I am a rare bird. Perhaps "peculiar" is more apt! Whatever the adjective, it's not uncommon for me to view things in a light different from the norm. This capacity used to give me pause and create a wellspring of anxiety and uncertainty; more to the point, I felt as though I did not fit. However, as I grew and matured (the inevitable sign of aging), I began embracing this mystical way of observation and thought as a gem.
Before I started running down the road of spiritual pursuits, I had always found comfort and awe in nature. Smells. Sounds. Sights. All which is offered in the great outdoors, a smorgasbord of simplicity. Albeit, not very simple in the technical sense.
Embarking on my pursuit of God I experience enormous peace when praying outside amongst grass and trees, blue skies and clouds, critters and creepy crawlies. Okay, the bugs could be done without! Nonetheless, there appears to be a stronger connection with God when amongst the very things He created, the way He envisioned. I doubt God had anticipated us crafty creatures would come up with cement blocks, iron bars, and pollution spewing modes of transportation. It is suspected that skyscrapers are another oddity which were not in God's grand scheme either. Anyway, whenever outside praying, Cultivating my relationship with the big fella upstairs, the air seemingly gets into a stir. As a matter of recollection, I cannot remember a time when the wind did not rear itself. Even if it was otherwise a calm day, a breeze would develop as I progressed deeper into conversation. If my attention was somehow diverted to thoughts completely unrelated to prayer (which is common for me…. food, noises, worldly dreams) the wind would seem to dissipate. Now, I will be the first to admit that this could very well be coincidence. Then, too, it could be…. Silly as it may seem to you, I have elected to err on the side of caution and embrace that it is indeed God responding to prayer. Conversely, He may consider me a pest and is gently attempting to discourage me with fanciful wisps of air, but I am cantankerous enough to not heed such.
So, now that you think I am a kook (if you don't, perhaps you are riding the same nutty bus that I am), let's take my observations to the next level.
Leaves have always fascinated me. Well, that's not necessarily true -- there were many times in adolescence where my mother found herself behooved to point out the earthly colors of autumn and the bright greens of spring. All to no avail. I was more interested in, well, pretty much anything else. But, with maturity (there's that word again) I began to find solace and delight in the same shows of colorful brilliance. Magic. Because of nature's inspiration, it's not uncommon to find me staring at trees for extended periods of time, as if in a trance. I am particularly touched by the sounds they make - soul touching sounds. Which brings to question, do they somehow communicate? Oops, that may be an inquiry more appropriate for Native American spiritual traditions as opposed to Christianity….
Sitting atop a picnic table with my feet on the bench part (why us men choose to perch like this is unknown, but I succumb to the natural draw to observe the world pass by in this position), I prayed. It was by all appearances a particularly still day, but a breeze indeed began embracing me. After my prayer, I continued to sit and ponder. Specifically, ponder my relationship with God. The breeze did not slow. If anything, such elevated to a wind with periodic gusts. Quite comforting. But, there was something different. The trees were swaying. Which is nothing unusual, except, I was much more aware of their movement and presence. But as I watched, it became apparent that each tree had its own rhythm. For lack of a better description, they were dancing. And the leaves were responding differently, as well. Nature's symphony!
Taking all of this in, my mind recalled the following passage:
“[W]e are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1 RSV-CE). The preceding chapter (Hebrews 11) sets forth the groundwork that those who have gone to the kingdom before us are the “witnesses" (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2683). Wow!
Like any other person on a spiritual quest, I cannot help but occasionally ponder whether I am wasting my time (I may be in the minority). Is this journey all a bunch of malarkey? Thankfully, these concerns are infrequent and fleeting. Nonetheless, those unsettling quagmires do need to be dealt with from time to time.
Which brings us back to my fascination with wind, leaves, and prayer. All of this culminated in the most radical, but comforting, of thoughts. The stirring wind was God's way of caressing me, letting me know that I was indeed being heard…. and, loved. The leaves, on the other hand, were each representative of individual angels and saints, as if they were spectators in the bleachers, each one of them waving and cheering me on, reinforcing that I am on the right path, to continue and persevere. July, 2012
