CHAPTER 4: Reflections on the Pilgrimage

WHEN I FIRST STARTED OUT my tunic read PEACE PILGRIM on thefront and Walking Coast to Coast for Peace on the back. Through theyears the message on the back changed from Walking 10,000 Miles forWorld Disarmament to Walking 25,000 Miles for Peace and ending withthe present message of 25,000 Miles On Foot for Peace.This walking hastaken me several times into the forty-eight states and into Mexicoand into all ten Canadian provinces.
I finished counting miles of walking in Washington, D.C. in thefall of 1964. I said to myself, “25,000 miles is enough to count.” Itkept me tied to the main highways where mileages are recorded onroad maps. They’re not good places to meet people. They’re justgood places to count miles. Now I’m free to walk where people are.
Also, mileages are not given for my favorite places to walk: beaches,forest paths and mountain trails.
Some things don’t seem so difficult, like going without food. Iseldom miss more than three to four meals in a row and I never eventhink about food until it is offered. The most I have gone withoutfood is three days, and then mother nature provided my food—apples that had fallen from a tree. I once fasted as a prayer disciplinefor 45 days, so I know how long one can go without food! Myproblem is not how to get enough to eat, it’s how to graciously avoidgetting too much. Everyone wants to overfeed me!
Going without sleep would be harder, although I can miss onenight’s sleep and I don’t mind. Every once in awhile I miss a night’ssleep, but not for some time now. The last time was September of1977 when I was in a truck stop. I had intended to sleep a little butit was such a busy truck stop that I spent all night talking to truckdrivers.The first thing after I went in, a truck driver who’d seen meon television wanted to buy me some food. I sat in a corner booth.
Then truck drivers started to arrive, and it was just one wave oftruck drivers after another that were standing there and asking mequestions, and so forth. I actually talked to them all night and I neverdid get to do any sleeping. After awhile somebody offered me breakfastand I ate that and left.
Another time, a truck driver pulled his truck to the side of theroad and said, “I heard you say over television something about thatendless energy and I just wanted to tell you I had it one time. I wasmarooned in a town by a flood. I got so bored that I finally offered tohelp and I got interested in getting people out. I worked withouteating, I worked without sleeping, and I wasn’t tired...But I don’thave it anymore.” I said, “Well, what are you working for now?”
“Money,” he said. I said, “That should be quite incidental.You have theendless energy only when you are working for the good of the whole—you have to stop working for your little selfish interests.”
That’s the secret of it. In this world you are given as you give!
I usually average twenty-five miles a day walking, dependingupon how many people stop to talk to me along the way. I have goneup to fifty miles in one day to keep an appointment or because therewas no shelter available.
On very cold nights I walk through the night to keep warmWhen the days are very warm I do a lot of walking at night to avoidthe heat. I have walked when the nights were filled with the scent ofhoneysuckle, the sight of fireflies and the sound of whippoorwills.
Once a six foot fellow, confident he could out walk me, walkedwith me for 33 miles.When he gave up, his feet were blistered andhis muscles ached. He was walking on his own strength; I wasn’t! Iwas walking on that endless energy that comes from inner peace.
Another time a woman asked me if she could accompany me onthe pilgrimage. She told me she wanted to get away from “that husband”
of hers. Maybe she did have a calling, but her motive was notthe highest. Another lady who wished to accompany me for a daycould barely walk by afternoon. I sent her home by bus!
I have never experienced any danger on my walks. One time acouple of drunks did follow me in a car, but when I moved off theroad they left. Only once has anyone ever thrown something at me:
a man in a speeding truck threw a fistful of crumpled dollar bills. Isimply gave them to the next church where I spoke.
A college student once asked me if I had ever been mugged.
“Mugged?” I answered. “You would have to be a crazy person to mugme—I haven’t a penny to my name!”
There was a time when I was walking out of town at sunset and awell-to-do couple in a big house called me over.They had read aboutmy pilgrimage and felt it was their Christian duty to warn me thatahead on the way lay a very wicked place called ‘South of the Border.’
They just wanted to warn me not to go near that place.They did notoffer food or shelter, however, so I walked on for several hours.
It was a very dark night with a heavy cloud cover and all of asudden it started to rain. Big drops were coming down, and I wascarrying a lot of unanswered mail. I looked for a place where theremight be a shelter and nearby I saw a combination gas station, restaurantand motel. I ducked under the roof over the gas pumps andstarted to put the unanswered mail into the front of my tunic so itwouldn’t get wet. The man from the gas station came running outand said, “Don’t stand out there in the rain, come into the restaurant.”
The man in the restaurant said, “Oh,we read all about you, andwe would like to offer you a dinner or anything you want.” By thattime I realized where I was. I was in ‘South of the Border.’
The man from the motel was sitting across the table from me andhe gave me a room for the night.They also gave me breakfast the nextmorning.
There may have been gambling in the back room; something wasgoing on there. But they treated me in a much more Christian fash-ion than those who warned me against them. It just demonstrates mypoint that there is good in everybody.
I have received hospitality in the most unusual places.These haveincluded a conference table in the Florence,Arizona, city hall and theseat of a fire engine in Tombstone,Arizona. Once I was inadvertentlylocked for thirteen hours in an icy gas station restroom. My accommodationswere quiet and private, although somewhat chilly!
I sleep equally well in a soft bed or on the grass beside the road.
If I am given food and shelter, fine. If not, I’m just as happy. Manytimes I am given shelter by total strangers. When hospitality is notavailable there are always bus depots, railroad stations and all nighttruck stops.
I remember being offered a queen size bed at a fashionable motelone evening and the next evening space on the concrete floor of atwenty-four hour gasoline station. I slept equally well on both. Severaltimes a friendly sheriff would unlock the door of an unoccupiedjail cell.
When no shelter is available to me, I sleep in the fields or by theside of the road with God to guard me.
Bridges always offered protection from the elements, as well asdilapidated barns and empty basements of abandoned homes. Culvertsand large pipes often served as lodging. But one of my favoriteplaces to sleep is a large haystack piled in an accessible field on a clearnight.The stars are my blanket.
Cemeteries are also wonderful places to sleep for the night.Theyare quiet, the grass is always neatly trimmed, and nobody ever bothersyou there. No, there is no intrusion upon the departed spirits. Iwish them peace; they understand. But a picnic table at a nearby roadstop, a gathering of pine needles in a nearby brush, or the cushion ofa blossoming wheat field would serve as well.
One morning, when I was sleeping in a Kansas wheat field, I wasawakened to a very loud noise. I looked up only to see this hugereaper bearing down on me. I immediately rolled over several timesto get out of the way of its swirling blades.
I feel a complete protection on my pilgrimage. God is my shield.
There are no accidents in the Divine Plan nor does God leave usunattended. No one walks so safely as those who walk humbly andharmlessly with great love and great faith.
I remember a time of the year when it got very cold at night. Itwent below freezing, but then it warmed up a little in the daytime,so the days were fairly pleasant. It was in the fall, and there were dryleaves on the ground. I was in the middle of the woods and therewasn’t a town for miles around. It was sunset and it was a Sunday.
Someone had read a thick Sunday newspaper and tossed it beside theroad—like they shouldn’t, but they do. I picked it up and walked offthe road and found a thick evergreen tree. Underneath it was a littledepression where some leaves had blown. I pushed a lot of leaves intothat depression. Then I put some paper down and placed the rest ofthe paper over me. When I woke in the morning there was a thickwhite frost over everything, but the evergreen tree had kept it off ofme, and I was snug and warm in my nest of leaves and paper.That’sjust a tip in case you get caught out some night.
Most people interested in vacations are those who are doingthings they are not called to do, which they want to get away fromfor awhile. I couldn’t imagine feeling the need of a vacation from mypilgrimage. How good it is to travel south in the fall of the year,experiencing the tranquil beauty of the harvest time—but stayingahead of the frost; experiencing the brilliant beauty of the autumnleaves—but traveling on before they are swept from the trees. Howgood it is to travel north with the spring, and to enjoy the springflowers for several months instead of several weeks. I have had boththese wonderful experiences in the middle of the country.
During a 1,000 mile walk through New England (which began inGreenwich, Connecticut and ended in Burlington, Vermont) I zigzaggeda lot to walk through not only the large towns but also thesmaller towns to which I had been invited. I started among the appleblossoms—I walked among them when they were pink buds, andwhen their falling petals were as white as falling snow. I ended amongthe ripened apples, which supplied me with some tasty meals. Inbetween I feasted on luscious wild strawberries and blackberries andblueberries.
Throughout the country I saw much superhighway construction,and I noticed that these super-roads tended to run in thevalleys, tunneling through the mountains and sometimes under therivers. I’m glad that on my pilgrimage I usually followed the oldroads that climbed the mountains.What wonderful vistas there wereto reward those who attained the summit: sometimes views of townsor roads where I had walked or would walk, sometimes views of valleyscovered with fields and orchards. I know that this is an age ofefficiency and that superhighways are much more efficient, but Ihope there will always be some scenic roads, too. Some roads thatclimb the mountains.
People sometimes ask me how I spend holidays—especiallyChristmas. I have spent many of them walking. Many people go for adrive on a holiday, so it is a good time to contact people. I rememberone Christmas Eve when I slept out under the stars. One planetwas so bright that just a little imagination could transform it into thestar of Bethlehem. The next day, at a temperature of 80 degrees, Iwalked into New Orleans to find poinsettias blooming abundantlyfor Christmas—and to find some fine, new friends.
I spent one Christmas in Fort Worth, Texas, where the towersand the tall buildings were outlined with colored lights, presentingan unforgettable picture as I walked into the city.That day I was giventhe welcome present of enough time to catch up with my mail.
People sometimes ask me if I do not feel lonely on holidays. Howcan I feel lonely when I live in the constant awareness of God’s presence?
I love and I enjoy being with people, but when I am alone Ienjoy being alone with God.
Most of the time in the early years I was offered food and hospitalityby people I did not even know. I accept everything as an offeringsent from the hand of God. I am equally thankful for the stalebread I received at a migrant worker’s home as the sumptuous mealpresented to me by a lady friend in the main dining room at theWaldorf Astoria Hotel.
You know, after you have fully surrendered your life to God’swill—if it is your calling to go out on faith—you will discover thateven the food and shelter you need come to you very easily. Everything,even material things are given. And some amazing things aregiven that still surprise even me.
I first got to Alaska and Hawaii through a wonderful gift from awonderful friend. Then some of my friends asked me to considerleading tours there, so I led one to Alaska the summer of 1979 andone to Hawaii the summer of 1980. I arranged the tours to be aneducational and inspirational experience for all who participated.Welived simply and traveled light.
I was not idle while in our two newest states. Besides showingmy friends around, I did a lot of speaking to groups and over the air.
Some of those friends wanted to get an idea of what my pilgrimagelife is like, and I think they did. It was a joy to share these inspiringplaces with them.
I’ll tell you another thing that happened: I was figuring out myschedule for North and South Dakota and I knew that in NorthDakota I would have to interrupt my schedule to lead the tour inHawaii. I knew it would be at Bismarck and I knew also that it wouldtake me about a week to hitchhike back from Los Angeles, and Ithought, “Oh, a week out of the North Dakota schedule and a weekout of the South Dakota schedule. I could really use those two weeksin North and South Dakota.” About the time I was thinking thesethoughts, someone wrote and offered me air fare to and from Bismarck.
It seemed almost like a miracle that it came. And of coursethis was something that I needed. I do not take anything I do notneed, but I did need the time in North and South Dakota.This was awonderful gift, which I accepted, and for which I shall be eternallygrateful.
So even the material things are provided.
I explained to a reporter one time that I just talk to people andafter a time they ask me if I want to eat. He pointed out that he hadtalked to people for months, even years, and they hadn’t offered himso much as a sandwich. I told him, “But you’re not a peace pilgrim!”
Once a sixteen year old Mexican boy, who had heard me on theradio, raced out as I passed his home and excitedly extended aninvitation to stay for the evening. His family lived in a poor itinerantsharecropper’s cabin, but I can remember being treated as theirhonored guest. After a dinner of tortillas and beans, the family rolledup their only rug and placed it as a blanket upon their only bed. Inthe morning, before departing, they fed me another loving meal oftortillas and beans.
While passing through Memphis, I scampered upon a woodenporch of a one-room house to escape a violent thunderstorm. Ablack family graciously offered hospitality for the evening. Theirwarmth was matched by the wood-burning stove that heated theirhumble home. They shared their meager food of cornbread andwater for dinner and breakfast.We all slept on a bare, well-scrubbedfloor. I will never forget the genuineness of their hospitality.
One bitter cold morning a college student in Oklahoma gave methe gloves from his hands and threw his scarf around my neck.Thatnight when the temperature had dropped below zero, an Indiancouple offered me shelter.
I was once warned not to go to Georgia—and especially not intoAlbany, Georgia, where fourteen peace walkers were in jail. But Icannot say I found anyone to be really unfriendly. In fact, hospitalitywas better than average.
The people of minority groups I met took it for granted that Iwouldn’t discriminate. When they read Peace Pilgrim on my tunic,they seemed to trust me. They didn’t hesitate to stop and talk. Ispoke in a number of minority churches and several of the ministersread my message to their congregations.
Of course, I love everyone I meet. How could I fail to? Withineveryone is the spark of God. I am not concerned with racial orethnic background or the color of one’s skin; all people look to melike shining lights! I see in all creatures the reflection of God. Allpeople are my kinfolk—people to me are beautiful!
We people of the world need to find ways to get to know oneanother—for then we will recognize that our likenesses are so muchgreater than our differences, however great our differences mayseem. Every cell, every human being, is of equal importance and haswork to do in this world.