Yātrika (यात्रिक) - Pilgrim

When I was in college, I took a course on Chaucer. The Canterbury Tales is a frame tale: Chaucer paints a picture of 29 pilgrims on the road to Canterbury to make atonement for their sins. On the way, each takes a turn entertaining the others with stories to pass the time. The tales told by each character are set (framed) within the context of the greater pilgrimage, with every story inadvertently revealing something about the person telling it.

The Pardoner, for example, while a churchman, is a terrible human being. Five hundred years before Harry Potter, the Pardoner tells the story of 3 brothers swindling Death. While his tale loftily preaches against the evils of greed, he reveals to his traveling companions his favorite ways of cheating people. Like I said, terrible human.

The Miller gets credit for the most X-rated tale, but he's also a drunkard and looking for shock value, which he gets. And the Parson just gives a sermon that bores everyone to tears.

My class read the book in its original Middle English, and Dr. D made us memorize the General Prologue as Chaucer first wrote it. I can still recite most of it: "Whan that Abrill with his shoure soote..." Occasionally, I say the whole thing for the middle schoolers, and they freak out and tell me to stop talking like a leprechaun.

There's something magical about those "wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye" -- that number indicates a lack of completion, an "almost-but-not-yet-ness." 29 is just shy of, not yet at the top of, not yet at fruition. It could imply either possibility or lack. I suppose it's up to the reader to decide which.

Was that when my interest in pilgrims began? Maybe it was. 

Years later, I read To Shake the Sleeping Self. This is my favorite pilgrimage memoir of all time. I've bought at least 5 copies for friends (although one guy peaced out before I could give it to him, so you can have his copy if you promise to read and discuss). In the book, former attorney Jedediah Jenkins chronicles his growing disillusionment with Life and his decision to quit his job and cycle the 10,000 miles from Oregon to the tip of Patagonia. With zero training! He walked into an REI, asked the sales associates to load him up with what he needed, and set off for parts unknown.

He fell over as soon as he got onto the bicycle. That's how unprepared he was.

But Jenkins had been telling people for 2 years that he was going to make this trip, so he had no choice but to toss out the non-essentials, repack his belongings, and toughen his hide -- literally. He cycles in all weathers, for hundreds of miles through vast deserts, wrestling with God & arguing with his erstwhile sidekick Weston. (Weston bought a pink bicycle off of Craigslist the night before their trip, so they were equally prepared).

I love Jedediah's story because it's not really clear-cut. About halfway through the memoir, you realize he's gay, and that that knowledge has been driving a wedge between him and Bible-Belt-Jesus this whole time, his whole life... that the purpose of his journey has been to wrestle with God, much like Jacob did before he assumed his new identity of Israel.

Jed spends 10,000 miles struggling with his bike and with God, with no easy answers. In the end, he is gay, and God is God, and God allowed him to come into the world gay. He knew it since he was 7 years old.

I was so moved when I first read this book years ago. I tried to tell a dear friend about it, but the changing political landscape in America was already beginning to drive a wedge between us, and she struggled to get past the fact that "God doesn't make gay people!" That's not why the book moved me, though! It was one man's decision to ENGAGE with the Divine, to put himself again and again into deliberately uncomfortable, confusing, even hostile environments to strip himself down to his most essential self.

There's something so beautiful about that.

At a hostel in Trieste a few years ago, I met a woman about my age who was making her way to Porto to begin the Camino.

"What is that?" I asked her.

"The Camino is a pilgrimage," she said. "El Camino de Santiago, the Way of St. James. Pilgrims start from paths all throughout Europe and walk to Santiago de Compostela in Spain."

I was ENTRANCED. A real-life, honest-to-God pilgrimage with pre-planned routes and other travelers to swap stories with along the way!

When I caught up with her a few years later, the Aussie was still high from el Camino and planning another one, this time walking across the Pyrenees from France. They say there are as many Caminos as there are pilgrims. It doesn't matter where you start from, which monasteries or abbeys or hostels you stay in, or how many days it takes. As long as you walk at least 100 kilometers and eventually arrive in Santiago, you are a pilgrim.

I've been thinking about that ever since.

In Sanskrit, the term for pilgrim -- yātrika (यात्रिक) -- can be contextualized from "tirtha" - a crossing place. That's fitting. A pilgrim is one who comes to a crossroads, one who crosses over.

I'm teaching the 7th graders about the MONOMYTH or "Hero's Journey" right now. In every story,  there's a point when the intrepid hero crosses a threshold from the known to the unknown...

* Orpheus ventures into the Underworld.

* Harry Potter enters Diagon Alley.

* Frodo Baggins leaves the Shire.

* Thor falls to the realm of humans.

* Lucy walks through the back of the wardrobe.

Every hero in every story in every time in every place has to leave behind what is known, crossing the threshold to discover who they truly are and what they are capable of. That's the Hero's Journey. It's part of every myth structure.

I'm supposed to go back to Italy this summer. I already bought a one-way ticket. I'm not excited about it. Maybe because when I originally conceived of this trip, I was at a different place in life. According to my notes, I started planning my Italian travels back in 2020 (hello, COVID). In 2020, I had a secure but boring job with a boss I loved. Now that boss is retired, I'm in a different district, and my life is HELL.

August - In August, an anonymous online troll began doxxing me for booktalking 4 LGBTQIA+ books (in addition to the 61 non-gay books I also booktalked).

September - In September, she came out into the open and began making public radio appearances to accuse me of peddling pornography to my students. I lost count after 7 interviews aired.

October - In October, my name, building, subject area, grade level, and lesson plans were posted on a public facebook page to urge others report me. A reporter from the Post Dispatch began reaching out for interviews. And I was accused of "demonic indoctrination." My school, which had had 0 book challenges in the past 7 years, now had to juggle several at one time. Also, I hired a lawyer.

November - In November, my attorney sent Cease & Desists. One of the trolls announced her run for school board.

December - In December, the 2 concerned community members attempted to challenge more than 100 books across the district. 

January - In January, one of them was named president of the political action committee funding the election of ultra-conservative school board members. 

February - In February, the original doxxer claimed on her public web page that I deliberately tanked a grade in retaliation for her harassment. The reporter from the Post Dispatch came back around to ask if I was ready to give an interview yet. And I started looking for more progressive districts.

The school board election isn't until April. How much worse can my life get before then? I am the face of this culture war. As much as my boss wants to keep saying, "It's not really about you," it IS about me when I'm the one traversing this camino, pushing the boulder up the hill.

I've spent the last 7 months forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Some days I can't. Some days I call in sick.

I'm telling you this because after my recent interviews, I found myself wondering, "How can I make major career decisions when I am barely functional?" I am at a crosscroads. I am at a threshold, and I don't know how to cross over, or where to cross to.