Landscapes and Prayer
I recently started reading John O’Donohue’s book, Walking in Wonder: Eternal Wisdom for a Modern World. In the opening chapter I found some words about landscape that resonated with me. I suspect they will with many of you as well. O’Donohue writes: “I love mountains. I feel that mountains are huge contemplatives. They are there and they are in the presence up to their necks and they are still in it and with it and within it. One of the lovely ways to pray is to take your body out into a landscape and to be still in it. Your body is made out of clay, so your body is actually a miniature landscape that has got up from under the earth and is now walking on the normal landscape. If you go out for several hours into a place that is wild, your mind begins to slow down, down, down. What is happening is that the clay of your body is retrieving its own sense of sisterhood with the great clay of the landscape. Water in a landscape is a fascinating thing as well. I often think that water is the tears of the earth’s joy and sadness. Every kind of water in a landscape has a different kind of tonality and a different kind of presence to it… I also think that trees are incredible presences. There is incredible symmetry in a tree, between its inner life and its outer life, between its rooted memory and its external active presence. A tree grows up and down at once and produces enough branches to incarnate wild divinity. It doesn’t limit itself—it reaches for the sky and it reaches for the source, all in one seamless kind of movement. So I think landscape is an incredible, mystical teacher, and when you begin to tune into its sacred presence, something shifts inside you.”
O’Donohue goes on to say, “One of the lovely developments in consciousness…is this dawning recognition that we are guests of the universe, and that landscape was the firstborn of creation and was here hundreds of millions of years before us. It knows what is actually going on. To put it in a theological way, I feel that landscape is always at prayer, and its prayer is seamless. It is always enfolded in the presence. It is a high work of imagination, because there is no repetition in a landscape. Every stone, every tree, every field is a different place. When your eye begins to become attentive to this panorama of differentiation, then you realize what a privilege it is to actually be here.”
I appreciate what O’Donohue has to say and can relate to it. I believe God does make Himself known through the Creation. All of God’s works bear the mark of the Creator. This includes the landscape. This helps explain why many of us find ourselves closest to God in nature. It also explains why prayer seems to come easier for us when we are out in nature. Is it too much to believe that rest of Creation prays alongside us and contributes to our prayer? O’Donohue specifically mentions mountains, water and trees as elements of the landscape that draw him to the presence of God. These three elements have contributed much to my own experience of God as well. I don’t think that is a coincidence. In the Scriptures God is often found in mountains, water and trees.
If only we had eyes to see we would discover God all around us, in all the different parts of the landscape. And O’Donohue is right, “when your eye begins to become attentive to this panorama of differentiation, then you realize what a privilege it is actually to be here.” What a privilege indeed!
–Chuck
(I took the images shown above on a recent trip to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.)