AUSTRALIA
Eureka Street
Ailsa Piper | 06 August 2013
Shadows cast by pilgrims on the Camino MozárabeI grew up in outback WA, where there was no church, or neighbour, within easy driving distance. Stories were what we had, and they were sacred.
Some were poems — ‘The Owl and the Pussycat’ may be responsible for my wanderlust, forever seeking that land of bong-trees. Some were from the Yamiji people — they instilled reverence for this land over which we stomp. Some were Bible stories — angels, miracles, water to wine and dead men walking. Those stories helped form my wish to live an honourable life. To ‘do unto others’.
Later, at convent school, while I resented not being allowed to serve on the altar, I did love the rituals and the rosary’s mantra. I also loved one Q and A from catechism:
Q: What is God?
A: God is love.
As I grew, I reassessed. My mother insisted I make my own choices on morality, faith and ethics. I was not to parrot inherited stances, but to form opinions based on experience and listening.
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