The process that is now culminating in entering pilgrimage began long before setting forth. Returning home after my first month-long jhāna & insight retreat in 2017, the gap between what I had just been doing and the busy-ness of laylife felt painfully sharp. ‘Household life is dusty’, a phrase from the suttas, came to mind, along with, ‘something has got to change’. But soon that feeling had faded, and it was back to the normal day-to-day routine. Looking after my beloved collie, Nunuk, a nice house and garden, doing my work and volunteering — it was comfortable, and the niggle in the back of my mind was just that, a niggle. It was far enough back there in my mind that I could ignore it, for the most part.
Purges and prunings
But that niggle hung around. It was persistent. There were flashes of ‘something’s got to change’. I started doing periodic ‘purges’ of material items in my house, happily parting with ever more things, from books to clothes to garden implements to furniture. Some would be replaced, but most wasn’t. These purges were greatly support by the advice of Marie Kondo in her book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.
And then there was the psychological tidying up. Always one to volunteer, I started to do serious ‘pruning’ — letting go of activities that weren’t nourishing, just as a tree self-prunes its lower branches. Some activities felt very on-path and were kept, but it was with a sense of conscious choice and deliberation. I started journaling to work through old issues, and 100 pages later felt much clearer in mind and heart. And there was the pruning of unhealthy relationships, whether friendship or family ties.
The niggle intensifies
Fast forward seven years, and things felt lighter for sure, both physically and mentally. But by 2023 the niggle had become a strong, clear, insistent voice. And it was telling me it was time to let go of my house. It wasn’t saying to sell one house and buy a smaller one. Or downsize to flat. It was saying, ‘let go of house, let go of any fixed abode’.
My first response was a simple, ‘What?’ This impetus to let go of a fixed abode was as baffling as it was clear. I couldn’t see my way forward with it, but the movement of the heart was unmistakable.
The instruction: ‘Shed, shed’
In June 2023 in London, I met a Hindu teacher who was visiting to give a retreat. He’s a soft-spoken, down-to-earth fellow, very practical and with a powerful practice. I had a chance to ask him a question and clearly remember that two key parts of his response were to ‘go inside’, and also to ‘shed, shed’. This was fuel to the fire of the voice advising letting go of the house.
Within two months, my house was on the market. I still couldn’t figure out what was next. I only knew that that if I were to grow spiritually, having a fixed abode had to be given up. The comfort and ease needed to be relinquished, because somehow it was impeding growth. Sure, I was sitting retreats, doing sutta studies, studying Pāli and Sanskrit … doing all kinds of good things. But it felt like these things were skimming the surface, and the longing was to go deeper.
Strangely, it felt very much like when I had just graduated from university. That was in Santa Cruz, California, a beautiful beach town, very switched on and alternative. Great weather, good food, nice friends. It would have been fine to get a job, settle down, everything would be really nice… and then it would be 20 years later, and I’d not have done much with my life. ‘I have to get out’ was my thinking, and so it I left Santa Cruz. And it was definitely for the best.
So here, some 35 years later, the same feeling was arising in the heart — growth was being stunted, and it was time to shift things to be more conducive to growth. I just couldn’t figure out what exactly it looked like.
Eventually the thought arose that perhaps I couldn’t see where I was going because it simply wasn’t visible from where I stood. Just as you can’t see around a corner until you get up to it, perhaps the path was so hard to see because it was in fact impossible to see — perhaps it was necessary to start walking it first. And then things would unfold.
This idea at first felt 25% scary and 75% just fine. By the time my house sold in June 2024, those percentages had changed to 10% scary and 90% just fine.
This blog is to share how that path unfolds. A friend said there’s a Sufi saying that ‘the path leads’. These posts will provide a window into where that is.
June 2024 — Glascoed, Wales