Up at 4AM for Vigils.
Still night. Cold stone church. Vaulted ceiling with columns arched in a ribbed pattern like the hull of a great ship.
The white hooded men stand at their stations, waiting for the bell to prayer. They are cloaked in solitude, a white army entrenched together in the watch of the night.
Their chant is soft like a gentle breeze. The young monks stand erect and the old lean, necks tilting humbly in reverence to time.
After prayers, I walk the church alone. The columns in gray shadow and only the light of the altar splashes on the floor.
My mind is as still and open as the space around me and a loving presence arises. I can not locate it, grasp it or conjure it, it is just present. I smile gently and nod gratefully.
A Poem written on my mid morning hike :
Enchanting Conifers
I walk among the glorious Georgia pines, standing like monks in ordered rows, chanting softly as the wind moves high up into their branches.
What is this pine-presence, this soul aching, yet fresh awaking ? I draw it in, chest expanding, feeling a warm welcome in this airy gage of roots and limbs.
The sun was upon me all morning along the open path, but here amidst the pines I can almost see light itself, resting between the poles .
Men of old built stone altars to honor such encounters. But why search for heavy rocks to construct images when I am in the airy likeness now.
No, I will gently pass through the monks land and honor these majestic pines by just breathing in and carrying this presence out into the open fields and through the hard woods ahead.
Craig, quite the poet/mystic. Very calming. May the good God bring blessing to you & to all your loved ones this day & thru the coming week.