On the last two days of my recent pilgrimage trip to Greece and Turkey we stayed in Athens, Greece. I have had friends tell me that this great city is not one of their favorites, but I sure loved the little time I spent there including the palace, the museums and metro, the shopping and the street market. One of the men on our tour, however, did have his wallet stolen on the metro and there is almost as much graffiti as Los Angeles has.
The two thumbnail photos in this entry were taken from Lykavittos Hill; you can click to make them larger. The walk up several blocks of stairs to the funicular was personally brutal for me, but now I know, if I should ever return, that there are much easier ways to get there. The arthritis in my knees and feet is still in a major flare four days after my trip, but every ache and pain is worth what I experienced. The wind was blowing fiercely when we were at the top of the hill and later it rained. We had a wonderful lunch at the restaurant at the top of Lykavittos.
One view of the city of Athens shows the city itself with the mountains behind. You can see where they managed to stop the flames when the wildfires burned in Greece in August. The second photo shows The Acropolis and the Parthenon. The ruins are lit at night so I could peek out my hotel window and gaze at it, pinching myself that I actually got to see it in this lifetime. I have a feather story saved up for when I actually post about The Acropolis and the Parthenon in the days to come. Abraham Maslow used the term “peak experiences” in his work and for the eleven days of my trip, in spite of exhaustion and chronic pain, I had one peak experience after another. The feather story, however, was deeply meaningful to me.
This brings me to the epilogue of Mary Oliver’s 2006 book of poetry, “Thirst.” This is a must book for Mary Oliver fans. What you will read below is how I felt during my travels—and today as I look down into the Los Angeles basin. It has been 80 degrees in Southern California since my return.
Thirst Epilogue
by Mary Oliver
Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.
