Karen Tamminga-Paton
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Shelter

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I once read an article about two elderly Muslim women who, at the end of their lives, embarked on a pilgrimage to Mecca. It was an 800 km walk for them, yet they could not face the end of their lives without making this one, final journey. It was understood, within this intense gaze, they would likely be parted along the way and forever loose sight of one another. This was their farewell at the start of a pilgrimage that would cost them everything.


What is it that stirs us up to become "pilgrims"? Why are some so compelled to journey?

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 Copyright 2026 Karen Tamminga-Paton.    Crowsnest Pass, Alberta, Canada
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce and sell images based on her art.