It is merely a short stop-over that Balarama and I took in Santiago (population 7 million), the major city in Chile. I could see that while we were in the airport, we were snuggled in the Andes Mountains.
Mountains, oceans and prairies have always been the best locations for dreaming, in my opinion. Looking to the mountains through the glass, beyond the airport’s facility, I simply reflected on the exchange with the woman behind us in the queue. She was Canadian.
“Actually, I’m from Pembroke, raised in Niagara Falls. I was a police woman there.”
“Oh yes, I’ve walked through both those places. I do walking pilgrimage.”
The newly-made friend understood pilgrimage.
“Actually, I come from a Mennonite background.”
She mentioned it was her dad who was the generation to leave the strict order.
“When he acquired a car, he had to paint the bumper because it was too shiny,” she said, expressing the rigidness of the faith.
Somehow, we got to talking again about her job policing in Niagara.
“One man, who was near the falls, reached into his pocket and just handed me his wallet which held his ID and cash. He then took a few steps over, jumped into the water, and off he went.” The 175 foot or 53 metre drop to the bottom was his destiny. Like most people who attempt suicide in these great waters, there is a high success rate within this act of defeat.
Insert ‘faith’ and there’s less chance of giving up.
May the Source be with you!