My Own Cathedral
Could this be my cathedral? Sitting in the shade on a hot, sticky day, listening to weed trimmers and the pool pump? Watching my dog chase some mysterious foe? Feeling my breath and listening intently to my thoughts? Could this be my cathedral? Towering Redwoods and babbling brook, sunlight and leaves creating its own stained glass on the ground. Silence so deep that my thoughts could shout. Air so clean you felt purified after only two minutes. What is a cathedral, after all, but a place set aside for the divine. Do I need majesty? Do I need sacredness? Do I need holy? Or do I need now? Could this be my cathedral? Where I listen to the deepest parts of me? Where I provide time and space to pray, know. Where the chirping birds provide all the music I need. Where I strip bare the pretension and hypocrisy from within, the girdle that holds everything in like it's "supposed" to. Where I forget the ideal and the expectations of everyone else. Where I rele...