From My Nature Journal: The Desert and Hope's Intimations

Saguaro NP, Arizona

Sometimes these guys have
persona: Hans or Franz?

The desert. It can be an unforgiving place, with razor-sharp margins to match its cactus’ prolific thorns. Often punishing and inhospitable, it can be an austere, life-sapping environment that can make one feel they are sucking hot air as through a straw, seeming to say, “Go away. Go far away. Get not close to me.” I hike for an hour before I even find a single spot to sit that combines a flat and open, semi-smooth space with a little apologetic shade from an ironwood tree.

Yes, there is a stark and awesome beauty here. But one had better bring along their own margins, their own safety-nets, their own protections – something that covers arms and legs from the unfriendliness of the flora, shades the head and skin from the merciless sun, hydrates the body from the moisture-sucking environment, and prepares one to be responsive to the defenses of the fauna, particularly if one is going to be out here for some time. Scorpions, snakes, lizards and stinging bugs are one’s companions.

And the periodic desert of the soul, how different? Perhaps not much at all. The draining oppression of the enemy can combine with a God Whose refreshing can veil itself so as not to be easily encountered… One must protect one’s self out here as well. Is God there somewhere? It seems He’s left the county, that the territory’s not big enough for the both of us, Pardner…

But there are moments in my wilderness wanderings where there are hints of God’s graces within seemingly unfriendly surroundings. Though there’s rarely a place to sit, let alone sit in the shade, intimations of hope are here if sought after, sometimes surprisingly so. On my third day of hiking I come across a relict sign that points to a spur trail; it simply says “Windmill.” Say what? Here? Someone’s idea of a joke? But just a short distance away, a windmill as relict as the sign looks absolutely out-of-place, still, silent. Yet as I stare, wondering of its history, a small breeze presents itself, the blades catch air, and the turbine slowly begins to turn, squeaking loudly. To my utter astonishment I soon hear a faint splash of water, a small pipe releasing water into a catch basin I had not seen in the underbrush. Upon further investigation I find the basin spilling over into a small rivulet that quickly disappears beneath the sand. But it’s there. Honeybees and small butterflies flit about and attest to it, taking advantage of the contrite oasis.

Sometimes it is only a tiny stream that is necessary to see for one to know that the desert will not stretch on forever. Sometimes a single word from God is all it takes to press on through the drought.

~~RGM, from an earlier journal entry after

hiking Saguaro National Park, Arizona,

adapted for my blog October 8, 2013

QOTM...*: Parker Palmer

(*Quote of the Month)

The soul is like a wild animal -- tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient, and yet exceedingly shy. If you want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the wildness we seek.

~~Parker J. Palmer

Rocky Mt Bighorn near the trail

Parker Palmer is a Christian writer, educator and activist who has focused his career on issues of education, social change, community and faith. A Quaker, and founder of the Center for Courage and Renewal, his most recent book addresses the importance of civil public discourse, and is titled Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit. The above quote, however, was taken from page seven of a book my pastor and good friend Paul recommended to me a couple years ago, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation.

Black bear ambling through our campsite 

What I appreciate about the quote is that it is a quality expression of something natural and something spiritual at the same time.  I have sat in those woods at the base of a tree and I have crashed through them, both literally and spiritually. Of course, sometimes it is even literally sitting at the base of a tree that my soul discovers the spiritual meaning it seeks. It’s why I write this blog.

So, are you soul-searching these days like me? If you find it a struggle, as I sometimes do, perhaps you are looking for God

Hidden newborn whitetail fawn

in all the wrong places. Perhaps nature will speak to you as it does me and you will find God there. Or perhaps you will find God by pursuing a new spiritual practice, asking a friend to pray with you, reading through the Psalms or the Gospels, connecting with a Bible study or Bible discussion group, engaging a spiritual director, or reading a spiritual classic. Whatever, remember that there is often a wildness to that search, and a wild One to meet at every search’s end. Though that One can speak in a still small voice, he can also roar like Susan and Lucy’s Aslan.

~~RGM, September 27, 2013

P.S. Next up? From My Nature Journal...