Mt. Sinai

Two weeks ago today, I climbed the Mountain - Mt. Sinai. In many ways it was a focal part of this journey - not always for me, but often in the telling for others. It is a place people can imagine in their minds and possibly connect or relate. It's the place where folklore says Moses received the Ten Commandments. It's a destination even those who don't know much about the Bible recognize. The climb is physical, so athletes and adventurers see the appeal to it. It's the place I often mentioned when talking of going to the desert, "I'm going to climb Mt. Sinai."... and so I did. Yet each time I think of it, I remember foremost the drudgery and the day doesn't float to the top of my memory list from the trip.

Today, however, it is the place I am called to write about. I made a collage for that day the night before we climbed and this morning when I looked at that small piece, I heard in my soul, "It was hard AND there was Freedom." Each stone below my foot a reminder to pay attention. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Focusing on balance and presence to keep myself safe on the rocky terrain. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Each stone a reminder of those who go before me today, tomorrow, yesterday. Heel, toe, heel, toe. One foot in front of the other all the way up and all the way down for eight-plus hours. (An interesting side line - when I first wrote "heel, toe, etc.", it came out "heal, toe". I haven't quite decided which spelling is correct...)

Why do I recall the drudgery of this mountain? The Freedom looked different than I expected. So, what did I expect? A mountain top experience, of course! Silly me. Each day is a mountain top yet somehow I've managed to forget that regarding Mt. Sinai. Still, the words "Take off your shoes for you are standing on holy ground" come to my mind. Here is my journal entry from that evening:

"In you we are bound to one another, linked by threads seen and unseen, destined for love in eternity, when all that has been decayed is restored." J. Cotter

Today we pilgrims climbed the mountain - ten in reality and four in spirit with countless others around the world through space and time holding us in prayer. Our dear Sister J led the way as she mounted her camel before dawn (4:30 a.m.) to meet us @ Camelot for sunrise. Like a regal princess warrior in the moonlight, I dubbed her Queen of Sheba.

I didn't particularly like this day until I started connecting the threads through the eyes of my fellow pilgrims. The day started with laughter as my roommate's barking dog alarm sounded, followed quickly by my revving motorcycle @ 3:30 a.m. They were sharp sounds in this monastic environment and the silliness of it combined with the early hour and probably our own excitement sent us into giggling fits.

Our group met in the courtyard just before 4:00 a.m. The sun was still asleep, but the brilliant autumn moon glowed in the darkness. We were saddened to learn we would be two pilgrims short for the trek, however, comforted by the place they would hold for us at the foot of the mountain. Later as the pieces wove together, I knew their prayers were pivotal in our experience and they were with us every step of the way. Quietly, Dr. Rabia walked us to the edge of the monastery (which sits cradled at the base of the mountain) and then our guide, Hussein, took over.

With a waning moon of just over 1/2 full, our path was lit with no need for our flashlights and so the threads began. Our pace was slow - almost painfully so at first. I had to check in with myself and heed my inner voice that said, "Hurry up. Get going." Others must have been feeling the same thing, because one of our spiritual guides reminded us of how often excitement can get in our way and going at a steady pace would serve us well.

The serpentine of pilgrims slowly wound our way up and around the rocky paths and for what seemed like hours, we didn't even know which peak we were attempting to ascend. These mountains are layered upon each other, tucked together, making it impossible from the base to tell one from the other. They are unlike my home mountain of Rainier that stands like sentry for miles over the surrounding land.

There was a party of Greek pilgrims staying at St. Catherine's, too, who made the climb at midnight. They began to dribble by and pass us on their way down along with Bedouins and their camels offering rides to weary travelers. At times I considered taking a ride to break the dull monotony of walking so slowly on the dusty trail. We passed one ramshackle snack shack and then another until we met Sr. J in Camelot* @ Abraham's Tent for coffee, tea and the breakfast we carried in our backpacks. We had been climbing for just over two hours. (*Lest you miss the humor, Camelot is the highest place on the mountain that camels can ascend... thus this is their parking lot. It would be many more narrow steps before we reached the actual summit.)

As we sat on the worn Bedouin blankets, snacking on bread rolls, cheese, honey, apricot jam and hard-boiled eggs, the sun made its appearance over the horizon. Layers of color tinted the air as dawn turned into day and outlines of mountain peaks materialized before our eyes. The sounds of Bedouin chatter, belching camels and other pilgrims danced in the air, punctuated by the occasional whistle of a bird. More than once someone said aloud, "Can you believe it? We're here on Mt. Sinai watching the sunrise!"

On the not-so-romantic side, after breakfast we found ourselves making necessary treks to the WC (water closet sans water), where we thanked God for our strong thigh muscles and mothers who had taught us at an early age to squat and hold our nose all at the same time. After our "ablutions," we gathered inside the tent for our morning liturgy. This was one of my absolute favorite moments of the day. As we began to set the space, our host, Abraham, graciously offered a beautiful cloth and spread it on our altar of well-worn wood. It was a piece both stunning in its magical appearance and the contrast of the rich tapestry inside a makeshift teahouse. Our host's humble gesture taught us all much about hospitality and how beauty permeates the most unexpected places.

The threads of our journey continued as our sacristans lit one candle and generously offered it around the circle. From the small flame, we each inhaled and breathed its precious gifts. My mind drifted back to St. Bridget's well in Ireland and my holy time with another pilgrim where I then, as now, was overcome with emotion and blessings offered without words. Following the ritual of the fire, poetry, scripture and our song leader's voice filled the air. My heart burst with joy at the immensity of this simple gathering and the awareness we were meeting together in a Bedouin tent - pilgrims in the desert - much as it could have been in the time of Moses. We were united where thousands - perhaps millions - of others had gathered for centuries. "Take off your shoes for surely this is holy ground." Giggles escaped my throat as the camel's guttural noises punctuated the Holy silence. Amen. Blessed be.

Why is it not this moment that comes first to my mind when I think of Sinai? Perhaps it will be now. Perhaps I just needed to dust the sand off my memories and remember that this morning on Mt. Sinai I walked on holy ground.

This holy day, I invite you to consider what memories of your own may beckon to have the dust removed. Take off your shoes for surely this ground is holy. Amen. Blessed be.

photos ©lucy

• pre-climb collage/journal page
• Sr. J & her steady mount
• view from Camelot
• sunrise on Mt. Sinai
• pilgrim C & Hussein
  

Confucius says...

A few weeks ago, I was asked to participate in a virtual book tour reviewing a new book titled, God is Not One. This is NOT the official review, just a brief stop along the way. ☺

God is Not One carries the subtitle, “The Eight Rival Religions that Run the World – and Why Their Differences Matter.” Three chapters into the book, I have just finished reading about Confucianism. The chapter begins: “To many Westerners, Confucianism seems about as relevant as a fortune cookie.” I don’t know about you, but my prior experience with Confucianism is pretty much relegated to the occasional “Confucius says” humor.

After reading the first few pages of author Prothero’s synopsis, I heard myself announcing to my husband, “I think I might be a Confucianist.” Now, this also reminds me of my psychopathology class where we started with a brief quiz and ultimately proclaimed ourselves schizophrenic, bipolar and/or major depressive, because we met at least one diagnostic criteria from the DSM-IV-TR. Nevertheless, I found myself quite intrigued with Confucianism and wanted to share a few inspiring highlights from the book:

• The earth is our home, Confucians have always insisted, and now is our time.
• …regard the everyday human world as profoundly spiritual.
• One of the hallmarks of Confucians is their conviction that ethics and ritual are inextricably intertwined.
• “self-transformation…is a communal act.” Tu Weiming
• Human beings are learners, and as we learn we become more ourselves.
• …we become ourselves, and transform society, through others. The path to social harmony runs through human flourishing, and human flourishing is made possible through right relations with other human beings.

So what do you think? Anything about this ancient philosophy strike your fancy? I’m not sure I’m ready to convert given a few of the more traditional tenets, but I definitely enjoyed learning more about this ancient tradition that emphasizes human-heartedness.

For my "official" review of God is Not One, visit here Monday, April 26 when I’m featured on the TLC Book Tour.

Letting Go - Ritual

Ritual Saturday. A walk to the beach to celebrate letting go of vestiges of 2009, and to unite fire and water. My heart says to let go with fire (not of it), knowing that fire and water will both work to purify me in the coming year.

I begin today’s journey at the top of 300 stairs. Each step down a reminder to let go, until I finally reach the beach. It is windy and cold – not quite deserted. My first moments, I find sea glass – a rarity on this stretch of sand.

A small sailboat races across the Sound. “You are the boat. Life is the sea.” The sails are at full tilt. Shall I move head first into the year? A giant piece of ancient roots sits like a sentinel in the sand. It is the focus of my attention – grounded and solid.

Continuing down the beach, I seek a fire pit to burn my list of good-bye’s. I know my matches will not take hold in this mighty wind. My lone fire will not be enough. How can I burn my list? I need fire to let go. Spying a family gathered around a flame, I understand I can ask for help. I don’t have to do everything alone. Fire is meant to be shared. Someone else can help warm me.

“May I feed your fire?”

“Of course,” they respond. And so I drop my list of good-byes into the pit. It doesn’t light at first. I feel silly for a moment – old judgments stir inside my gut. The man tells me it is an “inherited” fire, left by someone who came to burn a Christmas tree. The flame is being passed. My list crinkles at the edges, bursts into flame and then it is gone – just like that. I thank them. They thank me and I realize how deeply we have shared without full explanation or many words at all.

As I walk away, there is a tugging in my heart. Did I expect to feel lighter? I have let go and now I feel a little shaky and not sure what to do next. So, I head back toward the stairs, but first I must pass through the tunnel under the railroad tracks – retracing my steps. My shakiness dissipates as I witness what is before me in mosaic-form– fire and water together. It is a sign to me that I don’t have to give up one to receive the other. I can have them both.

But, just in case my thick head won’t remember and forgets too quickly, there is another gift on the wall. “May your soul always be on fire.” I am overwhelmed by the welcoming of the Universe – God surrounding me. I am the boat and life is the sea. We are in this together.

One foot in front of the other, I begin the climb back up the steps. Step. Receive. Breathe. Step. Receive. Breathe. Upward and onward into the year. Fire inside. Moist air surrounding. Solid ground beneath my feet.

all photos taken Saturday, January 2, 2010 © lucy

Ritual

It has been said (and confirmed) that I have a knack and need for ritualization. Breaking dawn is often my time for ritual. The lighting of symbolic candles. Gentle music. Settling into a cozy corner on my daybed. Setting aside time. Greeting God. Saying, 'I am here'.

My mind wanders, but the blank page and fountain pen call me back. Books to my left. Coffee to my right. Quilt over legs and cushy pillows behind my back. Surrounded by the lilting sounds of chanting monks.It is dark and quiet inside my own little womb created here.

In the womb, we are surrounded by water. It is the air we breathe while attached to our mother. In my womb, I am attached to God. Present. We are one. For brief moments, there is no separation. I swim in the amniotic fluid that is life. No separation - like a fish in the ocean.

“You are the boat. Life is the sea,”.* We are not separate. My earthen boat of humanity is held by the sea. Surrounded. Air above. Water below. Fire within.

Where (or does) ritual manifest in your life? Also, has your word for the year found you yet?

*quoted in The Book of Awakening.

'setting sail' © lucy - taken @ shilshole bay, january 2, 2010