Regarded properly, anything can become a sacrament, by which I mean an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual connection. Barbara Brown Taylor, “An Altar to the World”
The sense of connectedness with the world has brushed up against me over the past few years. Looking at those around me as I go to the store, meet in the halls where I work, on my walk with my dog and those heard about in the news stories on NPR I want to think they are not really mine to hold. To look at all of humanity with honor. I’d rather not this heated political season and long enduring pandemic.
Outside the window I can see a lone Canadian goose feeding off the floor of the shallow water as the snow gently falls on the very unfrozen lake. Where are the companions to this creature? Why alone and not with the others heading South. It is hunting season. I choose not to imagine.
My sense of connectedness to nature has always been deeply held. My heart drops as I spot another dead racoon on the side of the road. Dear Sweetie, I cry. Gunshots as autumn brings about another hunting season. I know it is part of life, yet it turns my stomach and I hope for an unsuccessful day for some poor hunter.
This sense of sacrament feels easy. Nature does nothing to offend me. It wants only to coexist with me. Probably wants just to be gift to me. Human’s not quite the same. Most of us are really in the moment to get through it intact. We aren’t in it to see each other much learn from each other. This crazy season we are in does not seem to make room for compassion.
How can nature be one of the teachers to my soul as I go ahead? The solitary goose is now joined with 2 pairs of Mallard ducks. All looking for sustenance for the flight ahead. As they eat find they need each other as this weather turns. Maybe that’s the lesson for this time in life. We just have to accept each other where we are. Go with one another whenever needed. That’s the sacrament.
