What an easy travel day, or shall I say days. My flight was on schedule, as was the bus to Oban and the ferry-bus-ferry to Iona.
     It was sunny and hot, which suited me fine for my 24 hours in Oban and first afternoon on Iona. I was on a seafood diet: lunch of scallops along the quay and a dinner of fish and chips in Oban, and a smoked salmon sandwich to take on my travels here. Last night I went off the diet and had roast pork.
Each year on Iona I renew my practice to be present to the moment. I both succeed and fail, but it’s all quite random: I remember, or I don’t. This year feels different, however, because I’ve adopted a mantra for the trip: be present. On the bus ride across Mull I did nothing but look: the amazing scenery became the foreground of my existence.

     I’m gearing up for Wednesday’s flight to Glasgow. It’s a simple flight with a plane change in Dublin. I’ll arrive in Glasgow in time to enjoy a Scottish breakfast at the airport before catching the bus to Oban. Then a short walk along the quay to Maridon House, my go-to bed and breakfast on my way to Iona. I’ll enjoy an early supper of fish and chips at my favorite seafood restaurant before an early sleep. In the morning there will be plenty of time for another Scottish breakfast before the forty-five minute ferry ride to the Isle of Mull, the hour and a half bus ride across Mull, the three minute ferry to Iona, and the two minute walk to the Argyll Hotel.
     Next Tuesday I'll make the reverse trip by train to Glasgow, and then travel on for a week in Edinburgh. 
     A simple trip for one who has done it often; solitude since I’m traveling alone; silence inside my head.

If my computer didn’t tell me the date, I’d have no idea what number I’m on. On Iona, where it is light when I go to bed and when I get up, I measure time by the 9 AM and 9 PM services at The Abbey, and by my meals. 

   This must be at least my tenth stay on Iona. If seems that with each visit I have less desire to accomplish anything. More and more I am satisfied just to sit wherever I am and be content, or walk wherever and be content.

     As I write this, however, I am aware that I am still challenged to do this in a contemplative way. My mind flits from one plan to plan—sit here, go there, do this, read that. Maybe my challenge for the week is to resist the changes that pop into my mind and stick with whatever I’ve chosen to do, be it sitting or walking. In other words, stay put. It is not easy to change a life long pattern but I’m going to give it a try.  I’m not at all certain how successful I’ll be. I may not be able to do it. Only I will know, but just writing this is helping me slow down. 

      As a start, I’ll sit here longer than I normally would, which is really hard. I want to get up and get moving.

A random, ever-unfolding itinerary today: bought tomorrow’s train ticket to Oban, successfully activated my credit card, and unsuccessfully tried to join Edinburgh Book Lovers’ Tour. Instead, I attended a noon service and piano concert and St. Giles, before enjoying a salad in their tea room. Next I wandered to the castle but the scaffolding for the August Festival has taken over the entrance, so I quickly turned around and came to the West Princes Garden.

      Here, many people are enjoying themselves, but I feel solitude; they are conversing, but I am in silence. I have simple desires today—just sit and be. And so I do.

      P.S. Internet access is difficult. I’ll add a slideshow when and if local technology improves.

I arrived in Edinburgh yesterday morning. A long trip yet wonderfully uneventful. Transportation from home to Adria House included car, bus, airplane, bus, train, and feet. I spent the afternoon walking around the city with my niece, Kristen, who was visiting from the UK where she works. Early to bed for me.

     My plan today was to set out, with no itinerary in mind, to see where I ended up going and what I ended up doing. The first stop, however, was a planned visit to Barclays Bank on Princes Street to sort out why my credit wasn’t working in the ATM machines. I don’t feel like explaining it, nor do I want to bore you with the details, but the mission was accomplished, freeing me to continue my plan to live in the moment.

       I found myself wandering through the Princes Street Garden, the castle always in view, always grounding me. Here I was, in my second favorite city, the castle reminding me of the Duomo in my very favorite city. Both structures are formidable, both here to stay, both man made, both God inspired, both with very different histories.  

      There is always the surface experience of things, but there is also the deeper meaning there for the taking as long as you look for it and expect it. On an empty bench I saw a package. Rule One: be curious, and so I was. To my surprise and delight it was a Bookcrossing package. I write more about it another day.

   Rule Two: wander, slow down, take your time, and so I did. I must have spent a couple of hours wandering about the burial groups of  St. Cuthbert Parish, the castle keeping watch over the souls, gone but remembered.

      It is now Tuesday morning and I must post this before I take a bus to Pebbles, an hour south of Edinburgh, to visit a high school friend.  Internet was not working. Now I'm back from Peebles, but that's for another day's post.

Here I am, happy as can be, sitting in the Glasgow airport waiting for my flight, via Dublin, to Boston. Happy because I’m heading home, and happy because, as I’ve mentioned before, I love airports. If homeless, this is where I’d live.

     Yesterday, was another stellar day as I made my way from Iona to the airport. Why? Along with airports, I love public transportation. Ferry, bus, ferry, bus, bus, every leg of the journey was on time.

    My love of solitary travel includes a delight in public transportation. In Scotland the services are excellent, citizens count on them, and use them. My days of renting a car, now behind me, removed me from being part of humanity going from place to place. My face has now become one with many.

My walk today to the north of the island: it’s all in the pictures.

Silence: soft breeze, song birds, crows.

Solitude: just me and the horse.

Simplicity: no thoughts.

The fog is rolling in and rolling out; my umbrella goes up and down. I’m grateful that it isn’t windy or cold; I’m grateful that I’m here, at the moment enjoying a soup and sandwich.

    Inclement weather drew me into Iona Gallery and Pottery selling local paintings and pottery. Different artists’ renditions of Iona. The woman tending the shop was crocheting. “No, I don’t paint; my passion is weaving.” She went on to tell me that after coming to Iona on and off for thirty years, she moved to the island five years ago. Her small house has a tiny bedroom and kitchen and a living room for her loom. She hopes to buy a bigger home where she can weave and have her own shop.    

     I figure Maura to be in her early sixties. She admitted that her finances are limited, always have been, so when she started dreaming of moving to Iona she focused on the all financial obstacles. Added to that, her friends thought her dream was impossible/crazy. “Then, when I started thinking of possibilities instead of obstacles, things fell into place and here I am.”  She doesn’t know how it will all work out, but she believes that if she keeps her dreams, whatever happens will be just right for the moment.

      We agreed how essential it is not to create our own ageism by limiting our dreams. “I may pop tomorrow, but I’m living today.”

      We talked about craft, about the need to do something with our hands. Women’s work through the ages. I told her that as a writer, I sometimes feel out of balance—too much in my head. I’m now inspired me to pick up the simple knitting that that I brought from home.

     And then there was the topic of solitude, which permeated the entire conversation. I told her about my need for solitude and about my solitary travel. She told me that when friends come to visit, she makes certain that she has time alone. She loves working in the shop because of the conversations with strangers. We agreed that our encounter was a perfect combination of community and solitude for us both. Then off I went.

I haven’t yet had the opportunity to ask anyone how they experience solitude and I’m thinking that if I do, I will be setting myself up for failure. You see, here I am on Iona with the intention and desire to be in solitude. So how can I ask the question without breaking the very solitude that I’m looking for? And besides I don’t want to research solitude, I want to live it.

     Yes, I want to live my life surrounded by silence, solitude and simplicity, but not as an end in itself. The end, as I see it now, is gratitude; the means are silence, solitude and simplicity. I’m a long way off from living gratitude, but it’s an idea that keeps coming to me and one that from time to time I experience in my everyday life.

    How to start? By remembering to be grateful for the little things that happen. Just today I’m grateful that my flights were on time and hassle free, that the ATM machine worked at the airport, that the sun was out in Oban, that I have made it with ease to Iona. Of course I blew it with a mild complaint that I had to empty my water bottle before going through security. Why fuss about the little things that don’t go my way?

      For a few years I’ve been playing around with the idea of living a life of gratitude. It started with my mom’s last words nine days before she died at age 101. “Very grateful,” was how she viewed her life. Recently the Word of the Day from Gratefulness.org. was by the Peace Pilgrim:

     If you realized how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought.

      What would happen if I just thought gratitude? The possibilities are mind boggling, no, more than that, they could be world changing. How can I be negative if I think gratitude? If I walk around thinking gratitude I’ll be looking and acting positively, I’ll be putting out positive energy. I think it would matter in the universe; maybe just a little, but it would matter. What if more and more people lived a life of gratitude? Then, maybe it would matter big. I think of Peace Pilgrim; I know she made a difference.