submerged in the sacred

Growing up in North Jersey, urban enough but with plenty of access to green spaces, I can’t say that the natural world was where I went first to connect with the divine. It’s taken me decades to learn and unlearn so much I’ve been exposed to concerning God’s location. But creation began working on me and in me, and now not a day goes by without my finding a way to meet the deep need I’ve developed to be outdoors — and not just outdoors — but immersed in and attentive to what’s overhead, and what’s underfoot, and what and who surrounds. The play of light on water, the whistle of wind through trees, birdsong, the company of animals, sand in hand, the stinging intake of crisp January air, the taste of rainwater — all of it is rapturous and transcendent, and proof to me that God loves us very much, and perhaps trusts us too much.

I have lots to learn about the natural world: like what were those orange-breasted birds chittering, flocking and flying just before yesterday’s frigid sundown? One happy way I’ve learned to learn is simply by daily exposure and experience. Another could be this marvelous book that my husband bought me for my birthday, “Naturally Curious, Day by Day,” a daily set of lessons about the denizens of our NorthEast. I’ve added the meditations to my morning prayer time, mostly to learn, but also to spark gratitude and awe and reverence for our beautiful world, and as Blessed Francis would call them, our Sisters and Brothers of fur, and bark, feather and fin, sun and moon.

I am sure my ability to be outdoors during the Pandemic has forestalled any deeper sadness, anger, resignation — some of the emotional side-effects we’re all experiencing. But being in the woods, or in a park, or by the water has done much more during these dark months than lift my mood — it has lifted my vision, it has enhanced my connection, it is again changing my spirituality. We are immersed in God, and God really knows how to show off, even in the dead of winter, even at the height of a Pandemic.

The Mystics knew it and preached it. Poets know it and preach it. I wish more clinicians would prescribe it, and more clergy would point the way. Stepping out of the door, stepping out of ourselves, we are submerged in the sacred.

Go worship.