Laura Béres (2018) How travel might become more like spiritual pilgrimage: An autoethnographic study, Journal for the Study of Spirituality, 8:2, 160-172, DOI: 10.1080/20440243.2018.1523048
I came across this interesting article on SBS which shares of the scientific theory behind this experience. Known as contextual-binding theory.
It is well established that learning in the brain happens by a process of association. If A and B occur together, they become associated. Contextual-binding theory goes a step further: A and B are associated not just with one other, but also with the context in which they occurred.
What is context? It’s not just your physical location – it’s a mental state that also comprises the thoughts, emotions, and other mental activity you’re experiencing at a given moment.
Adam Osth Senior Lecturer, University of Melbourne
Looking at photos of past family members triggers moments of past family experience. The article goes on to share that our brain is like a google search engine. The clearer you are in what you are searching for the better results will be retrieved, same with your memory.
Every time I travel back to Melbourne this mass of emotions, feelings and memories come flooding back. Whilst I have fond memories of Melbourne, actually being there amplifies my experience and deepens the feelings.
Ancestry.com provided me with a sense of belonging at a time in my life within which this was missing. Recently divorced, my adult kids transitioning into adulthood, my identity smashed; what I belonged to, my family, home and roles as a wife and mum were gone.
In a massive process of re-identification – who and what I identified as was required. Often painful and disorienting the need to belong became paramount. Through belonging I could begin to anchor my roots, connect, docking station – slowly begin to anchor to spread my roots in the newly turned soil.
Belonging is a basic human need. Only through its absence did I experience this. But what and who do we belong to? Ultimately we reach a point where the truest sense of belonging is to oneself. Deep within we belong to our core, our centre, our conduit as spirit. Until such time that sense of belonging to external may be necessary.
For me tracking back through my ancestral lineage provided a belonging not only to people but place.
This sense of place, belonging to, I soon realised was important for me. To be connected to land and place through time became a stepping stone for my true connection to self. To become aware of sensations of Googling place of continents far away over oceans to lands not seen, showed me the eternal aspect of self. Some places were so familiar I could smell the air and feel the earth under my feet from sitting at my desk. Names of places such as Dunkeld, Perth… suddenly I was transported to other times. The familiarity soothing, a reminder of previous life times. ‘I’ as spirit had traversed these lands. I belong ‘there’ and I do ‘here’, all co-existing simultaneously.
So gently through researching I came to know that I indeed belong to many places, through experiences and that the imprint of experience is carried within. I belong where I am.
Ancestral searching for me played a key role in re-identification, providing a sense of belonging to place and ultimately self.
She felt the fear rising from the pit of her stomach. Thud! It landed in her throat. For a split second she couldn’t breath. Fear disabling air from entering her lungs. Air unable to enter her lungs. Constriction.
“Get a grip” she scolds
herself. “It’s not as if we’re never
coming back”.
The empty suitcase lay there on
the floor. Open. Empty. Terrifying.
“Argh!”
Around it lay pile upon pile of
clothes. Neat and tidy. Waiting.
They could be waiting a
while.
It’s a common pattern. The joy and delight for Beth always comes in the planning and pulling it all together. Then slowly as the days to departing begin to creep upon her, so to the dread. Like the slightest wisp of air against her check. Apt at keeping herself busy she is the mastermind at distraction. Years of well tuned practice has ensured Beth the ability to distract herself when the slightest tremor of fear appears. Best to ignore it and get on with things, the motto. Well trained as a child to dismiss her feelings. Now however she has been slowly learning that this is not so wise and definitely not healthy. Its been taking time but slowly and patiently she has been changing her relationship with her feelings. Instead of clamping then down tight, like an airtight lid on a container, she is now allowing them to be. Practice.
However there are many times when
she doesn’t catch them, like now.
“Argh geez” she exasperates.
“I don’t understand my
problem”.
“I should be enjoying this. It should be exciting. I should be revelling in it. But I am not.
For this she felt bad. Ungrateful.
Which only compounds her experience.
“Okay take a deep breath”
“We’ve got this”
She put her hands on her stomach and consciously takes a slow deep breath. And waited. Waited for her hands to rise slowly suggesting the air had reached her diaphragm .
Nothing.
“Okay this will take some time”.
Once more she took a deep breath and allowed the throat to relax. Air began to trickle down, like rain on a window.
Not quite to the stomach but closer.
“Once more” she whispered to herself.
She closed her lies and allowed herself to lie on her bed, amongst the pile of clothes. Resting her hands gently on her tummy she took a slow deep breath.
This time her hands raised slightly. She could feel the movement. A sign of life. Without force, yet with consciousness, she focussed on her breath. Each inhale and exhale resulting in a deepening connection with herself. Expansion.
Her throat now relaxed, her heart
rate slower Beth welcomes the release.
Her bed a welcome place of
refuge.
She feels the warmth of the
sheets under her body and the comfort of the pillows for her weary head.
Love would lay here.
So she does.
She allows herself to doze off.
When she awakens a shift has
occurred. A common experience for
Beth. Sleep a way to integrate and heal.
“Okay so lets have another go”.
This time paying attention to what is going on within her, Beth looks at the empty suitcase.
“Why do you frighten me?”
She looks at the clothes surrounding it. Waiting patiently.
“What if I get you wrong? What if I pack you but you work out not be right?”
“What if I don’t pack you and wish I had?”
The pressure was rising once more.
“What if you are all I will ever have?”
“What if something happens and everything I ever own will be what I choose to put in you?”
A quiver in her heart, a welcome sign that she was on the verge of learning something else about herself, that had previously been out of sight. She knows not to push it. Simply breathe, allow the feeling to move and explore what comes.
“And what if what is in the suitcase is all I will ever have?” Beth asks herself.
“I can’t pack up my life. I don’t want to. I have done this before been forced to pack my life into one suitcase and flee. Not in this lifetime. Yet the feeling still sits in the recesses of her soul. Don’t make me do this again. Please. It hurts. Deciding what to take. All I see is what I am leaving behind. More is left than taken. How can I do this again?”
Packing up my life in a
suitcase pressured to make the right
decisions in a split second. No I won’t
let you do this again. You must
stop.
“Oh my, my precious one. Is this how you feel? Oh goodness”.
Beth embraced herself to soothe this wounded one within her. “I had no idea”.
“Sorry”.
“This is not what is happening here and now”.
“I feel your terror however it is not now. Come and rest, allow these feelings to come into my heart, so together we heal. Our heart”.
Gently, gently now. She will tread.
Aware of this unlocked trauma within her Beth will undertake this process with care. Each item she picks up and places into her suitcase will be done with gratitude and love.
She will be gentle and kind. Knowing that when she reaches her destination if she needs anything she hasn’t packed she will be able to find a solution.
Packing her clothes, she realises, is a symbol of packing up who she is now. Putting who she is in a suitcase as she departs. She nows within this however, that what she unpacks at the other end will most likely be a different being to the one who departed. Who boards the plane will be transcended by the one who returns.
For this my
love is the joy of travel.
Transformation. Expansion. Growth.
One cold blistery early March evening I checked into this tiny little hotel ‘The Bosville’ in Portree, Isle of Skye. From the outside it was like every other building in the street. Only one thing differentiated it. There was a soothing light emanating from the tiny windows. It was a welcome sight after the long day journeying through from the Scottish lowlands into the highlands, weaving through Glencoe and finally ‘over the bridge to Skye’.
Whilst the sun had come with me most of the day, the clouds had rolled in later in the afternoon and the rain with them. I was weary, wet and hungry.
Dulse & Brose Restaurant, Portree, Isle of Skye 2019
In anticipation of the later than usual arrival, I had rung earlier and booked a reservation for one in the restaurant ‘Dulse & Brose’. A wise choice as time was to reveal.
I have always been challenged dining out alone. At home its an easy one to avoid. I just didn’t do it. However, when you travel it is often necessary to do. Whilst the room service menu is convenient the options soon run out. There is only so many times you can have a BLT or burger!
At the beginning, dining out in the first hotel was confronting. I was often placed in the corner and it felt like the waiters weren’t quite sure what to do with me. I was very aware of how they were about me being there alone. Then there is the judgments and pity often projected from others. In fact, I feel this is the greatest challenge; managing and trying to not be impacted by others thoughts of me and perhaps the stories they were making up around me being alone. Combined with this were the stories I was playing in my own mind!
In amongst all of this how is one meant to enjoy one’s meal?
A new experience awaits…
‘a table for one’, Dulse & Brose, The Bosville, Isle of Skye – March 2019
Greeting me in the small intimate restaurant was such warmth. My body relaxed and my soul sighed. The warmth oozed from the staff, to the music playing, the soft candles, rustic yet comfy table and chairs and the dimmed lights. I was led to my table. It was not hidden in the corner, but beautifully placed at the window, looking out over the bay as the sun settled for the night. It was picturesque and prime restaurant position.
I felt welcomed and valued. Then to my delight the table was set for one person. Not two, but one. They had previously removed the second setting and in its place a small vase with flowers and a lit candle had been placed. I felt cared for. I had not experienced this before. Such a delicious experience.
I didn’t feel like I was taking up space or not wanted (which often is the case). The staff struck up a delightful conversation with me, which was so nice. My food was mouth watering and presented with care. It set me up for a relaxing and rejuvenating evening in my cosy room.
‘The Bosville’, Portree, Isle of Skye – April 2019
I had no hesitation when I booked ‘a table for one’ the following night. I knew I was in kind hands. What I took with me from that experience was to ask in future moments to have the second setting removed. It made so much difference as I continued my travels. Staff where happy to do it. “Ask and you shall receive”.
Along the way I also began to take a notebook and pen with me so I could write out my reflections of the day. I made my dining out experience about me 100%. Instead of worrying about what other was thinking, I used it to nourish my body and soul.
One small action of setting the table for one, by the staff in ‘The Bosville’ made such a huge impact on how I saw and related with myself.
It showed me that being alone does not mean second best. It does not mean I am less worthy of experiencing a beautiful dining moment.
All we need to do is look at honeymoons that newly weds embark upon. It’s an opportunity for them to transition from living two single lives into a new one of union. Of taking time away from family and friends to be alone just the two of them. A time of deepening communion and laying a foundation for a new life.
hilltop town of Todi, Umbria Region, Italy 2015
The experience of a ‘gap year’ is traditionally used by school leavers to transition from high school to young adulthood. Grey nomads hit the road with their caravans in tow as they move from working life into retirement.
For me, my trip to Italy in 2015 marked a transitional process from being married to divorced. Two years after my husband and I separated I had saved enough to take myself for a few weeks to travel through Italy. My first overseas trip alone. It was scary in many moments yet as the days progressed I settled into myself in a whole new way. Its a beautiful world regardless of what one is going through personally.
In a somewhat interesting Universal play out my divorce papers were finalised in the courts whilst I was away. I left married and arrived back into the country divorced. The Universe leaving her mark on the importance of this trip.
I feel undertaking a travel journey during or following a separation and/or divorce can be a beautiful and healing process. The opportunity to take self away facilitates a transformative journey enabling one to reconnect with self in a whole new way. It enables the transition from ‘us’ to ‘I’.
I’ve always had a thing for taking photos of my feet wherever I go. My daughter doesn’t get it. But that doesn’t matter anymore. I have quite a collection now of ‘feet’ photos – from Rome to Uluru to this particular one in Chapel St, South Yarra, Melbourne. It may just look like someone with their feet up having some frozen yoghurt. And yes I suppose it it!
my happy place, Frozen @ Chapel St, South Yarra, Melbourne
This particular evening though was a marker of transition. A sign to myself that I will be okay on my own. Twice a year for the past 8 years I have travelled back to my home town of Melbourne and soaked up the city – from eating at numerous cafes, to shopping along Chapel St, to soaking up art at the National Gallery, to taking in a show at the Regent Theatre, to watching ‘the Tiges’ win at the MCG – and always with my daughter.
I was on my own though on this particular cold and winters evening. It made everything even more delicious. Whilst the arctic winds blew down the streets, the trams rattled along breaking the evening stillness and everyone was rushing in doors to get warm, I was out eating frozen yoghurt at 9.30pm. Why because I could. No one was there to tell me I couldn’t.
It was my last night in this city and I had just returned from a country drive. I was out one more time to soak it all in. My last little shopping trip saw me purchase my first ever pair of Vans canvas sneakers – in blue – my favourite colour. Even to this day I treasure those Vans, quite symbolic – new adventure, new shoes. Vans were always something my kids wore, they couldn’t believe I treated myself to my own pair. You would’ve thought the world had ended with their reaction.
So with my new shoes and warm jacket on I walked Chapel St one last time on this cold evening. There is something magical about the crisp fresh air hitting your cheeks to make you feel alive. I love it. The cafes never seem to close so I headed to one of my favourite cafes and treated myself once more to a healthy dessert, mango frozen yogurt topped with pomegranate seeds and coconut slivers. And to cap it all off I actually took a photo of that moment, not quite a selfie, but hey its a start.
It was during my first trip to ‘the Kimberley’s’ that I fell in love with them. Dominating the rugged and dry landscape, the boab trees commanded my attention. There was something about their bulbous shape that just made me want to hug them. This I did, more then once and with their wide girth my hands never fully surrounded the trunk. Adding to my joy and never ending sense of wonder was the uniqueness of each boab, never did two ever look the same.
Whilst the boab trees scattered the land, it was an incredibly rare sight to see a boab flower. The pods that encase and protect the seed have a soft velvet cover. They hang delicately from the branches in stark contrast to the solidness and security that the round trunk provides. Whilst I had seen images of the flowers in books and read of their healing potential and indigenous connection it was not until my next trip a few years later that I would witness a boab flower in full bloom.
During this second trip, I was moving through an incredibly difficult period with my marriage ending only a few months prior. I headed to this region as I knew the land would be very healing. It was a true gift for me to witness a boab in full bloom, it felt like an offering from the Gods. I resonated with the flower and reflected upon her process of blooming. What an incredibly amount of tension and force would be required for her to break free from the protective shell, a shell that once protected and kept her safe yet now it was limiting. As a seed within the pod, she hung unwavering throughout the rains, scorching sun, humidity and winds. Clinging to her one substance, the tree. Yet she knew she was more then the seed. Patiently she waited until it was her time to push through the shell and break free. She was still part of the tree, yet she was expressing her uniqueness and shone for those with eyes to see.
The reflection given to me was clear. I too needed to break free from the shell, to become who I could be, to bloom beyond what I knew was possible. It would take incredible effort and force; tension would be present through the breaking down of old ways. Yet it was a process already underway and one that could not be stopped.
My love and connection with the boab tree went to a whole new level throughout that trip. She is a healer for me. Some pods had dropped to the ground and opened revealing the innerness. Soft and velvet the petals still wrapped upon themselves, frozen in time. Yet those that bloom are exquisite to behold, the large fragrant flower with its fleshy white to cream petals commands your attention. Its numerous stamens shoot upwards towards the sky.
It’s a powerful healer as a flower essence as it can assist in the breaking of strong, deeply ingrained negative family patterns. Resulting in deep personal transformation, it is a profound healer working initially on the spiritual level, and then working its way down through the emotional and mental bodies.
If you are finding it difficult to break free from limiting and/or repetitive patterns, behaviours and mental mindsets perhaps consider the boab essence?
The Doctrine of Signatures is interesting in so much that you will often seen groups or clusters of boab trees. Like a family quite often becoming enmeshed in one another, the boab essence addresses this restriction.
Personally the boab flower essence is the one constant on my bedside table. Its incredibly powerful and supportive through the personal transformation processes. Sometimes ‘the ties that bind’ also restrict and prevent your growth.
The boab provides the strength needed to release the old way and enable more of your true spirit self to anchor.
It was through reading Ian White’s ‘Bush Flower Healing’ that I became aware of the connection the Indigenous communities have with the boab. The traditional birthing practice in these local communities involved the use of the boab flowers. If they were in season, the woman would dig a hole and line it with boab flowers. The woman in labour would then squat over the hole and deliver the baby into the cradle of flowers. As the baby was birthed its first contact was with the boab flower, a cleansing of family patterns. Truly wonderful.
I do have a love affair/obsession with boab trees, even to this day 7 years on from my first encounter images of them adorn my study. I make no excuses for this strong connection with this tree that I feel.
A true gift that when prepared as an essence enables us to step fully into who we can become.
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself!” His words penetrated sharply into my heart. The awkward silence between us had been shattered. Feeling his frustration toward me shook my core. My husband always been my lighthouse, my rock, my safe shore. Ever dependable he was my steadier. Never had a harsh word been said. Until now.
This outburst of exasperation had rocked me. Leaving me vulnerable. My lighthouse had turned his light off.
It had been a long, hot, exhausting and challenging day. Today had been the beginning of our trek into one of the remotest regions of Western Australia.
We had done what we could to
prepare for the journey. The back of the
4WD was full of food, water and other necessities. Where we were heading there was no phone
coverage, no internet or shops. Whilst
we had travelled to Central Australia many times this journey would be
different, we knew that and were aware of the need to take this trek
seriously. Remote outback Australia it
not to be taken lightly. The land
commands respect. She is both rugged and
harsh whilst being breathtakingly beautiful.
My response was lightening quick. The words flowing like water from a damn that had just been burst. “I do this to myself because it helps me to grow. I love this country deeply and passionately and I want to experience it, and experience me in it. I need to get out and explore more of what I think I am.” I too was feeling frustrated. From the moment we hit the track I was engulfed with fear. I was scared and uncomfortable. The voices in my head already ripping into me far more than his words could. How stupid I had been to think that this trip could be done?
Silence once more permeated the air between us. Our outbursts releasing pent up emotions. Ilooked at him, searching his face for some resemblance of the gentle and caring husband, I had known for close to 20 years. Nothing. He had gone. The man with his hands on the steering wheel had his eyes fixed diligently on the 4wd track in front of us. Concentration taking its toll.
Months of planning and preparation
had gone into pulling this ‘holiday’ together for just us. Our first time away for many years without
our children. I thought it would be a
great opportunity for us to connect more deeply and get to know one another
once more.
I didn’t see this coming though. How was it that with every kilometre that we
drove deeper and deeper into Country the more further away from one another we
seemed? How was it that the more
remote we travelled, the more suffocated and claustrophobic I felt? The silence so deafening, I wanted to
scream. I needed to run back. Back to the safety of the life I had
known. Keeping all in order. It was too late though. We had begun.
The journey commenced.
Unconscious and out of sight we had agreed to undertake this
experience.
There is only one road in and out to El Questro. What was becoming increasingly clear was that who I was going in would not be who I was coming out. Already on day 1, I was unravelling. We were both challenged.
This was not a trip of coming together but of journeying deeper into ourselves. Two souls. Once we turned onto Gibbs Rd, it felt as if we had entered a completely different time paradigm. Nothing we knew would be the same again. What we felt we needed, we didn’t. What you think you want, you don’t. There was only one road in and out. No where to run or hide.
