Places of the Soul

Published 2001 - Suite101 - By Thomas James Martin


[In cultivating the soul] we have to live that spiritual life which is ours -- somehow find some way to contemplate, to pray, perhaps, to find some imagery, poetry, paintings, sculptures, or some architecture that takes you to a place that is so much beyond yourself that it is part of your spiritual life.--Care of the Soul, by Thomas Moore


I have places that take me out of myself, that show me the spiritual side of my life. In my case many are natural places that inspire me or raise my spirit when I cannot by ordinary effort and my own attempts at love or reconciliation with my life and relationships reach the extraordinary, feel that oneness and joy with all life. They are special places, my places, places that hold beauty for me, places where wonder enchants my spirit and my heart leaps toward the infinite.

While many of my special places, like my grandparents’ farm in the Piedmont of North Carolina or the small park near our house in Beaverton, Oregon, are not of worldly renown, others are natural treasures celebrated in poem, song and essay. I certainly count the Muir Woods National Monument and other redwood groves that I have visited some of the many treasures of nature that never fail to uplift my spirit. Nearly every time that I visit the redwoods, I find myself dwelling in joy, drawn upwards and held speechless in the presence of their majesty.

When I first stood among the redwood trees (the taller, coastal variety), I remarked to my life partner, Joyce, that I felt as if I were in a cathedral. Later in the park’s gift shop, I was thrilled to read that the great western naturalist, John Muir, actually described the presence of the trees as a cathedral.

Anyone who has visited the great European cathedrals, such as Notre Dame or Chartres, is struck by the power of the sacred space created by the light filtered through the incredible stained glass windows and towering, vaulted ceilings. The ego recedes, the spirit quickens, and the gaze is naturally drawn upward.

In similar fashion the long trunks of the redwoods draw the visitor up into an incredible experience of light and majesty in a sanctuary vaulted by green and blue. One is pulled deeply into a silence that seems the essence of the soul. Quite powerfully, one not just understands but experiences deeply the adage, “Be still and know that I am God.”

When I camp in the redwoods, I always feel cleansed. My sleep is always deep and mellow, full of wonderful lights and seemingly enlightening conversations, which I seldom recall upon awakening. No matter, I probably wouldn’t understand anyway. Joyce and I always feel as if we have merged with various divas and nature spirits during our stays among the trees.
After returning from a weekend in the redwoods or other places of the soul’s joy, I usually have trouble readjusting to urban life. I often go outside into my backyard at night, and looking up into the white-washed, city sky with its pitifully few stars. That's when wish I could simplify my life such that I could live closer to nature, experiencing the grandeur of living among the redwoods everyday.

Yet, in these sentiments, I am reminded of this saying by an unknown Zen master:

Before a person studies Zen, mountains are mountains, trees are trees, and stars are stars;
after the first glimpse into the truth of Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and trees are not trees;
after enlightenment, mountains are once again mountains and trees once again trees and starts once again stars.

I am glad to at least have my life with all the chances it offers to appreciate the Creator and his/her creation and cherish the simple love that happens between human beings. Alas, at this stage of my life, I cannot always find the luminous in the ordinary world, and must seek those places of inspiration where I can renew my soul with the extraordinary. So, I suppose I will just have to commit a heresy (much admired by Zen practitioners) and rewrite the ancient dictum:

Before I saw the Redwoods, they were just trees in a picture;
upon seeing the Redwoods, they seemed more than just trees;
now that I have experienced the Redwoods, I realize they are just trees.

Thankfully, the joy and wonder are all mine!

Copyright 2002-2010 Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.