Peace

It has been a while since my last post. The world, for me, seems to have been turned on its head....and let’s leave it at that.

As a response, I went inside. When I was a boy growing up in Youngstown, I lived on the edge of Mill Creek Park. One of the nearby features was an area in a small ravine through which a tributary of Mill Creek was nestled. Surrounding this melodious brook were massive glacier-age boulders, many covered with moss and surrounded by ferns. I don't remember exactly when, but one day I found myself there alone, and something connected with me. The cold air, the quiet that held space for the thread of the water voice, the feeling of being small yet so safe in the midst of the ageless rocks…all of it allowed for an overwhelming sense of PEACE.

Lanterman’s Mill in December, Mill Creek Park, Ohio

I think now that it was my first "encounter" with God, in a way that was so different and so alluring as opposed to the Catholic catechism that was my daily religion. And once that day happened, I could not undo it. I went back over the years of my youth when I couldn't find what I needed in my family, my friends, my school, my sports...and it was always the same. Often during times of guided imagery as an adult, this is where I go. I am there now, in a sense, as I type. 

So, this seeking the solace, of going inside recently, is not new. And I have learned that being IN nature anywhere is a portal to allow me to connect to that "something". As I was waiting to realize what I needed to write about now, my time in nature here, in the woods and ravines of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, allowed me the peace that I needed. And, somehow I found myself this morning re-visiting my original blog posts from years ago. I am sharing this post from my archived blog called "Myles" (the significance of that name is for another post). I hope it in some small way resonates with you in this time of waiting...and may it all be for good.

From December 24, 2009:

Two roads traveled today, both for more than an hour. The first in late-day sun as I drove from church to see late consults at a hospital, my mind reflecting on the church service message about the great gift of Jesus, about the relationship that he offers with God as God in the flesh. The second in the cold darkness as I drove through rural country to home, the scattered houses with their Christmas lights glowing sharply, prompted me to turn off the now-annoying standard “holiday music” on the radio and hit the CD player. On came a series of medieval liturgical chants, sung in  beautiful, haunting layers of vocal tonal harmonies.

When people say they were “moved” by a musical piece, a play, or a book, it does not involve neurotransmitters or the limbic system, it is not cerebral. There are two kinds of knowing, I believe: that of the head and that of the soul, and being “moved” is of the latter. That happened on the second road, for a second, the veil was parted. No, I did not see God or hear God. But I “knew” that [GOD], where all the music and math and truth resides, is so utterly beyond comprehension, that to have Jesus ‘with us’ (Emmanuel), is just the tip of the eternal iceberg. We do indeed need both, we need to say ‘yes’ to both, to know God through relationship and to know [GOD] through contemplation and prayer with a sacred awe…

I am Who am…

To all of you who stop now and then to read my read my blog, my wish is that you have a season of awe, and years and years of gratitude and wonder.