Chaucer caught me up a month before my birth, sent a signal through the amniotic soup to cue my DNA: remember, pilgrimage is part of your green heritage. I dropped to earth with boots and stick a faint prophetic sign, advancing Zechariah’s promise to those aged Jews. Then Bunyan found me learning how to walk and talk, he bent down, whispered ‘pilgrim soul’ and left me slowly climbing Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, until I met the lost camino, dust and destiny rough programmed into one word, ‘go’: then, ‘Go and plant some seeds to grow the world a little bit more whole.’ If Lindisfarn is on the edge, and Cuthbert’s Way a bridge too far, make pilgrimage a heart screen play.
Variation 1, doubling: Easy Praise Psalm 92
The righteous grow like palms, secure within the church
and flourish without qualms
or queries; ‘God won’t leave us in the lurch or fail to do his sums;
let every pagan search
and scowl; we’ll sing our psalms.’