Sacred Ground

Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ Exodus 3:5b NRSV (Read in context.)

My mother taught me that God is everywhere.  Most Christians would agree with her; the One we call God can meet us anywhere. Indeed the sacred surrounds us, enveloping us. Each human being even reflects the divine (Imago Dei), according to most followers of Jesus.

We often co-create sacred spaces with the divine, the one I call God. In churches and other places we invoke the spirit with candles, prayers, or incense. (I often burn incense and light a candle to remind me of God's presence. They help me to remember that my gifts are from God.) Some indigenous people burn cedar or sage. Most faith traditions of which I am aware have ways to draw our distracted human minds to focus on the One, on the sacred. These rituals are not limited by location.

But there do seem to be places in which God's presence is palpable. As I've been hiking the Columbia River Gorge this year, I have happened upon places that draw me in, call me to prayer and meditation. Some of these places are simply pretty spots where the artistry of the Creator's brush compel me to awe.

"Some of these places are simply pretty spots where the artistry of the Creator's brush compel me to awe." Photo by Tim Graves

Others have been co-created by human beings. Another person has felt compelled, for reasons I am unaware, to modify the location. The zen rocks along the Coyote Wall trail, for example, demand a sabbath along the journey to the peak.

The Coyote Wall Zen rocks are flanked by Mt. Hood. Photo by Tim Graves

Sometimes the sacred ground I encounter is long, narrow, and winds through Mother Earth's majesty. The experience of putting one foot in front of the other -- of the journey -- is itself holy. Being present on that trail as it wanders through the forest, meadow, or along the river, the One walks with me.  The God who loves extravagantly heals me, prods and challenges me, and reminds me that the majestic unfolding realm of God includes each of us.

Photo by Tim Graves

Note: As I begin the long-term project of creating a spiritual guide to various trails within the Columbia River Gorge, I will be highlighting Sacred Ground that I encounter on my hikes.

A Trip Up the Mount

A trek along the rocky trail through the cool damp woods,

 leads me across a meadow of swaying grasses and wildflowers.

Finally within sight of the summit, 
   the walls of earth fall away leaving me vulnerable to craggy rocks,
      above the emerald river.

The sun above rises predictably toward mid-day,
   warming my skin in the cool morning.

Blowing and gusting winds from the west,
   threaten to take,
      my hat (or life) with one swift powerful burst.

Fearful of a trail-less descent, I continue my climb baboon-style,

   finally sitting before reaching the apex.
   

The rock beneath my bottom is, 
   hard, jagged, and solid.
Between sky and heavens,
   I exist on a narrow swath of earth.

Encompassed by the cloudless azure,
   I rest in the home of the eagle,
   the creature who soars closest to the Divine.


The topmost crest taunts me with its proximity;
   it is only twenty-five steps away.

The windy breath of God,
   whispers in my ear that peaks are not journey.


Ahead, a few paces beyond reach, is the land where the birds meet the One.
   It is where God,
      Yahweh,
         Allah,
            Father Spirit,
                Jehovah,
                    the Holy One communes with the winged.

The pinnacle above the raging waters, 
   atop the weathered rocks, 
      and guarded by billows that move my body against my will,
         is the place where love culminates.


Yet it is not time to reach the One.


It is time to follow,
   to rest,
      meditate,
         to learn to be.


Vulnerable.


Desirous.


Frustrated.


I sit.

I yearn for the view from above,
   the vista that answers all. 
Like the wanderers, I whine in the wilderness.
   At least as a slave I had regular meals, I rage!


I contemplate opposing the very gusts of the One,
   to be reminded that on this precipice my humanity could cease.

Stopping. Being. I trust.
   I listen to the heedfulness, the spirit within, that tickles my core and spine,
      and prevents my bodily ascent.


I sit on solid rock in the land of broad-winged birds,
   and feel the extravagant, loving breath of God on,
      my neck,
         my face, 
            and my heart.


And I journey.

Good Soil Among the Rocks

‘Let anyone with ears to hear listen!’ Mark 4: 9 NRSV

In our too-human rush to judgement, we can miss the central point of the teachings of Jesus. In the parable of the sower, Jesus emphasizes the receptivity of the soil - of our hearts - to hearing the Good News of love for all. He does not suggest the sower should withhold seed. Rather, he describes what we see all around us. Not all seeds or love we share take root. 

Nonetheless, Jesus calls us to plant seeds of love extravagantly. We may fear there is not enough love, withholding seeds from those we deem unworthy or bad risks, but this is not what Jesus teaches. It is not our role to pre-judge others and withhold our love-seeds from the rocks. To do so, is to assume that we know where the Realm of God will take root and blossom. Sometimes the seed planted among the rocks, finds good soil where we least expect.

Photo by Tim Graves

Again he began to teach beside the lake. Such a very large crowd gathered around him that he got into a boat on the lake and sat there, while the whole crowd was beside the lake on the land. He began to teach them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: ‘Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and it sprang up quickly, since it had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose, it was scorched; and since it had no root, it withered away. Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. Other seed fell into good soil and brought forth grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.’ And he said, ‘Let anyone with ears to hear listen!’ Mark 4: 1-9 NRSV (Read in context.)

Wings

You have seen . . . how I bore you on eagles’ wings
 and brought you to myself. 

Exodus 19:4 NRSV (Read in context.)

An eagle as seen from Coyote Wall in across the 

river from Mosier, Oregon. Photo by Tim Graves.

Their broad, protective wings surround me in the the sky above the tiny Oregon town in which I live. I've seen them - as many as seven in number - surveying the town when I return home in the early evening. In the early morning I've seen them circle in a spiral to the surface of the river to catch a fish. When the winds for which the Columbia River Gorge is famous, bring out human windsurfers and kiteboarders, these magnificent birds can be seen rising thousands of feet above colorful kites and sails to catch the wind currents. Watching, they seem to float in mid-air in even the most powerful gale. 


When I walk along the Columbia, I eye the shore where they sometimes perch just beyond human reach. When I journey to hike the Coyote Wall and Labyrinth trails across the river in Washington state, they follow me reassuring me that I am not alone nor far from home. 


And, today, a feather lay across my path reminding me that the One is blessing my journey.

The Journey of the Bent Tree

Another rainbow crosses the Columbia River as I write this morning. I do live in a magical land filled with rainbows. It is also a place in which trees are deformed by the same robust winds that lure windsurfers to the area. 

photo by Tim Graves

These are not the model Christmas trees, shaped like so many isosceles triangles. Giving up their westward facing branches, they more accurately resemble right triangles. Hunched over, they bend away from the wind.

photo by Tim Graves

This is particularly true of those trees on the edges of groupings, along the river, or at the top of hills. Exposed, they match the persistence of the wind as they reach upward toward the energizing sun. Sometimes damaged, or appearing dead, the trees resurrect in the spring.

photo by Tim Graves

photo by Tim Graves

The trees remind us that beauty is not found in chiseled abdomens or wrinkle free skin but in the Divine journey.

Though I am barraged by fierce winds,

I will reach upward to the One.


Matching the tenacious gale,
I persist under blue skies and grey, wet blankets.
I dance with the wind making him my partner.


As I journey toward the One,
the Divine is already with me,
surrounding me in the mossy green of winter,
and the purples and reds of spring and summer.


And when I finally succumb to el viento,
I will be the soil that feeds my offspring,
living within all those who follow,
and seek the divine One.

photo by Tim Graves

A Lone Blossom

A grey day,

   a lone blossom.

Divinity within,
   yearns to burst forth,

      touching all of Creation with love.

In the Midst of the Grandeur

In the land of giant, jutting rocks,
   carved out by glaciers,
      and filled by the powerful blue river...


In the realm of the mighty wind
    that bounces wind surfers,
       deforms tall green trees, 
          and powers homes...


In the dominion of waters of teal that crest white,
    house prehistoric sturgeon below,
        and are protected by majestic eagles from above...


In this majestic land,
   you will find God in the small, reliable blossoms.

photo by Tim Graves

A Birthday Hike

These are photos I took today as I walked along the Columbia River.

Whitecaps of the One

photo by Tim Graves

The blue water of the river,
   absorbs the joyful sunshine,
      warming itself and,
          the abundance within.



Bedraggled, she walks the bank,
   the sparkling, divine water,
      radiates outward greeting her.


Joyfulness cannot be contained,
   by a rocky, sandy edge.
Whitecaps reach upward and outward,
   finding an ocular entry.


Burdened by the human-made,
   in a mere glimpse of the glistening joy, 
      the Divine rays of abundance, 
         flow into an arduous life.


The sun-water within her ripples into,
   her dispiriting presence,
      creating hopeful whitecaps in muddy waters.


Blueness saturates her brown eyes,
   and the divine sunshine flows downriver,
      breaking out of its banks into towns north & south.