Most people are content to seek divinity within buildings. I, however, am not one of those people. I believe that most of those same people would find it difficult to conceive of me as a spiritual person. Perhaps this may have something to do with the fact that they will rarely ever encounter me within their buildings of worship. I prefer to find such solace and sustenance elsewhere. I turn to the forests surrounding my home.
The woods to me are a natural cathedral imbued with more vitality and majesty than those of their feeble man- made counterparts. I am sure that the Gothic churches were on some level intended to echo those qualities in the forest. The soaring height of the trees and the immensity of the heavens are poorly reflected by the stone pillars and vaulted ceilings that one finds in those structures. Although the stained glass within those places is indeed beautiful, it is destined always to remain the same. The corresponding feature in the forest changes on a regular basis. The multi-hued sky hangs suspended by the sprawling tree branches like myriad shards of glass, and instead of perpetually displaying the same scenes within the webbing of the lead, the sky alternates eternally through its cycles of dawn to dusk and back again. When attempting to construct our sanctuaries, man has limited himself in design to designating only one inner sanctum. Nature has no such restrictions, and so everywhere in potential expresses the same level of sacredness. Not contained by the rigid requirements of architecture and structure, the woods lend themselves to interpretation. An entrance during one visit may serve a different purpose during another. There are always more perspectives in the woods. While cathedrals of stone and metal require the creation of various gargoyles and grotesques to stand guard, an organic cathedral is naturally accompanied by animals that serve the same purpose. The forest needs no additional upkeep because it is an ecosystem contained within itself. Such cannot be said for our buildings, which may require many people to keep it in a satisfactory condition. Many of the same traits occur within our churches, but in comparison with the natural world they are poor imitations, mere shadows of the originals.
This is why I am more inclined to pursue my spirituality within the wilder places of my area, rather than within the structures most of our society deems as the appropriate ones for theology and anything related to the sacred. I personally feel closer to a creator when in direct contact with the creation.
I recently had the supreme good fortune of discovering this piece of poetry. I had no knowledge of this sonnet before I wrote this essay, but obviously it was written many years before my essay. I feel it is the perfect accompanyment. Enjoy!
My Cathedral
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
The arch beneath them is not built with stones -
Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved the graceful arabesque of vines;
No organ but the wind here sighs and moans,
No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones,
No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves,
Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled,
And learn there may be worship without words.
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