That's just the way we work together. She knows what I like, and I sort of know what she likes.

So, the last time we traveled together, Michelle suggested we journey to a little town named Saints, in France, where she was living at the time. I honestly didn't want to go because we had been on the road for three weeks visiting chateaus and churches all over Normandy and the Loire Valley. I was a typical American just wanting the easiest possible journey.

But Michelle said there was an excellent example of Roman ruins there in a very charming small city. So, we packed up for the day and set off. And as we rounded a bend in the suburbs of Saints, on our left appeared a very impressive Roman amphitheater, completely dug out by volunteers and government workers and left for the enjoyment of tourists such as us.

For the next couple of hours we climbed the steps and sat in the seats and imagined what it must have been like. We walked the fighting field and peeked inside the tunnels where the animals came racing out to battle the gladiators. It was the most vivid glimpse I ever had into the scenery of ancient history. It was also a spiritual moment that turned our trip into a small pilgrimage because some of those people were dying for their faith.

That's an extreme example of a spiritual pilgrimage - people being chomped to bits by wild animals and heavily armed men.

But you get the idea. A spiritual pilgrimage ought to connect you with something profound, something that makes you think for a good long time.

Then I ran into a fellow who has spent most of his life traveling the world and finding places to do some exploring into holy moments. His name is Phil Cousineau, and he has been so many places and met so many holy people you just can't keep up with the banter. As he talks, it's the pope and the Dalai Lama and all kinds of lesser saints thrown in the mix. And my first reaction was, of course he has spiritual pilgrimages, he knows every pilgrim on earth today.

That's not quite true. He has, however, written a new book, "The Art of Pilgrimage" (Conari Press, $20).

Cousineau said most people can find their own pilgrimage and they also can probably finance it. Pilgrimages don't have to be expensive and they don't have to take a long time. But they do require concentration. Cousineau said all a person has to do is "put the sole of their shoe to the soul of the earth."

That's nice and poetic, but it really means we have to get our bodies out of the easy chair and hit the road. That's the problem - most of us are hopelessly lazy. For instance, I lived in this city for more than a decade before I had the nerve and the energy to enter the giant Cathedral of St. Paul and sit a moment to meditate.

Let's say you're anxious, tired, worrying about many things. Some of us would pick up the telephone and arrange a trip to a warm place where we can roast in the sun for a week or so. That's a plan to renew the body, but it may do nothing for the soul.

Cousineau says there is nothing wrong with those vacations if you also endeavor to discover something spiritual about your vacation spot. It may take only two hours a day, or it may take the entire day, but those special moments will transform a vacation.

Cousineau also says it's OK to get lost. The trick, he says, is to have lots of time to be found by the right people. Cousineau says getting lost is often when we discover the spiritual places that eventually mean so much to us.

But you have to visit the obvious places, such as cemeteries and old churches. I visited a venerable cemetery in Charleston, S.C., attached to a French Huguenot Church in the center of the city. Some of the tombs were so old that big pieces of stone had been broken from the corners. This produced gaping holes where visitors could actually look inside the sepulchers.

That's an afternoon I'll never forget, because the spirit was working on my imagination. If only I'd brought along a flashlight.

Clark D. Morphew