A Pilgrimage
Apr 21, 2000 -
© Virginia Marin
Then, at some point, though I can't remember exactly when, I announced my decision to go to Alaska and live in an igloo with the Eskimo. My mother said, "No Way!" She forgot to offer me sandwiches. Well, I still smile at these incidents, but my unfulfilled wanderlust remains my goading companion. Possibly because the Ursuline Nuns to whose convent school I was sent did not have peanut butter and jelly. Many years have passed--too many. The Ursulines have shed their distinctive habits and few, if any, Eskimo live in igloos, but I still have a passion to undertake a pilgrimage. Adventure is worthwhile, so join me on my virtual pilgrim's way to legendary lands and to shrines that are otherwise hidden. Here is a clue for my first pilgrimage: My eyes are an ocean in which my dreams are here reflected, but I must hurry or my feet will get wet. Where am I? According to legend, in the early 8th-Century, St. Michael the Archangel appeared to Bishop Aubert of Avranges, and instructed him to erect a great ediface to the glory of God on a site which neither man nor elements could destroy. In time, a Benedictine monastery was built on a granite mountain island on the north coast of France near Brittany and Normandy. Located one mile from the mainland, it is known to have the greatest tidal fluctuation in all of France. At low tide, it is separated from land by about one mile of an exposed sandy ocean bottom which contains dangerous pockets of quicksand. During low tide, pilgrims can walk from the mainland to the island. They must not tarry, for the tide is unpredictable and rushes in quickly cover the exposed sand. Any unsuspecting dawdlers are sorrowly drowned.
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