From the diary of the pilgrim James

I hike toward Stans. But although the path is easy, I make slow progress. The highway in sight makes me wonder how comfortably a stretch of road could be covered in an air-conditioned car. Instead, I chafe my feet, drink lukewarm water, and imagine that this is a way to find myself. As if my personal pilgrimage would contribute anything to world peace! Will I be able to abandon my doubts once I've found a suitable hostel in Stans and had a good meal?

For reflection on the way

"Cars and touring coaches race along the highway, packed with tourists hungry for sun and seeking a thrill of adventure. They often get stuck in traffic jams for hours before they can relax in the crowds on sandy beaches or in wellness oases. Despite my aching feet and the sweat on my forehead, I wouldn't want to trade places."

Which angel will carry me over the threshold? Tell me, which angel will it be who removes the ashes from my clothes and from my eyes? Which angel will pull the gray veil from my heart and gently touch it with its light wings? Tell me, which angel will it be, and when?
EM Quieter

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