Be bold. Be humble.
Peregrinatio means holy wandering, pilgrimage, in Latin.
A German friend of mine sent me a photo recently of the reliquary of Hildegard of Bingen, and that particular word -- peregrinatio -- flashed out in gold lettering from beneath that reliquary in the parish church in Eibingen, Germany, describing the abbess-theologian.
Peregrinatio sounds fancy, but it's a fundamentally common human word. It describes my life and vocation, and I think it also describes yours.
As a newsletter, Peregrinatio represents a new season of writing for me, with a slightly different focus. I'm giving it a try, boldly and humbly, and I thank you sincerely for subscribing, reading, and sharing it with others as you deem fit. In this newsletter, I will focus on writing, intellectual life, and whatever has put me in contact with joy. It will help me stay accountable to my tasks in this season by giving it that particular focus.
For many years, I have sent out written hellos and regular life reckonings, usually in emailed updates and blog postings. These forms of writing have had their season and shapes, serving me and whoever happened to read them in different ways. This newsletter might feel a little different than those other communiqués, but it's still the same me here in these words.
Earlier this week, I spent a few hours at the All Saints Sisters of the Poor Convent in Catonsville, Maryland. I sat on a stone slab in the warm, bright sunshine near midday, writing with a pen on paper and allowing myself to be distracted by the Eastern bluebirds as they darted across the convent's front lawn, and by shadows of a turkey vulture and a red-shouldered hawk as they hovered far above.
Later I ducked into the gift shop of the sisters' Scriptorium, another place of precious pilgrimage for me and so many others who love this convent and have been blessed by it. I purchased a heap of little cards from that shop, one illuminated with simple drawings of a bird holding a twig in its mouth on one and a snail on the other, which read, respectively in a Fraktur-like calligraphy: "A small beginning can become a great ending," and "Waste no time in beginning." Another simply reads, with no illumination: "Help Lord, Help!" These little cards bring me great joy, as does meditating on the gifted hand who designed them years ago.
Beginning anything takes boldness, and if it is truly courage, then it also holds hands with humility. So begins any journey, the first bold step, the first halting word on a page, the first iteration of a new online newsletter.
Welcome to Peregrinatio. I hope you'll continue to walk with me in this new season.