Two of my Churches:
1) Midnight sunlight in Iceland 2) My mom and sisters- (at an old family 'church'- a Cubs game).
Last week I accidentally found a new church. Like many of my 'churches' it happens to be a forest. It's called Maudslay State Park, and it may be the most beautiful forest I've seen here to date. I accidentally ended up jogging there for over an hour one night, becoming so physically and emotionally charged with energy I didn't quite know what to do. I could have run for hours- is it weird to feel that happy jogging alone in the woods at night? Anywho, I fell asleep with a smile spread across my mind and could hardly wait to return the next morning for another fix. I ran it again, hard and happy, feeling a little guilty that it would replace another workout I had planned that evening, but sometimes you've just got to go to church.
I really don't believe in god, or anything even remotely god-like. In fact, most of you know I find the whole idea a little ridiculous and I get that icky-squishy-nose face when I think about organized religion. But like most intensely spiritual people, I do have 'churches'- several of them in fact.
These churches are places, events, people, activities in life that have for some reason or another, become part of us. My churches make me feel centered and so filled with emotion that I can barely breathe. They are safe places- they keep me raw and kick my ass, and I like experiencing most of them alone. I've shown some people these churches, but I rarely reveal their spiritual importance. I would defend many of them with my life and protect them with ferocity, always knowing that they may cease to exist in any moment- and that's OK. If one of them falls to the ground, there are always several others to bring me back to myself if I need it.
Mount Tamalpais is a church for me. Climbing Eldridge grade, running uphill for an hour and a half, only to scarf a cliff bar at the top and then pound back down, makes me feel raw, clean and distilled down to who I truly am inside and out. If I'm feeling particularly ballsy and need an extra long sermon, I'll tackle it via one of the steeper fire roads or throw down a second summit of Bald Hill and really kick my own ass into submission. It is easy and hard and heavenly all at once, and I find myself in that "happiest place on earth", having done a whole lotta thinkin', smilin' and hurtin' over the course of 15 or 20 miles.
The entire country of Iceland is a church. It once provided the time and space (and endless hours of light) to force me to finally, FINALLY, be honest with myself about more things than I have time to recall. My life came together and crashed back down all at once, and in the end, all that was left was Me and an army of question marks that Iceland had prepared me take on. If I ever travel back there again, stepping on that sacred ground may bring me quite literally to my knees. Now that, my friends, is a church.
There's a pub in Eugene (OR) that is one of my churches, a fenced-in grave site under some buckeyes in Martinez, a particular view at the top of Hill 88 in the Marin Headlands, the Little Shamrock in SF. Oddly, Full Sail Amber Ale is a church- drinking it becomes something intentional and worth pause, reminding me of recovering from hard day at the lab with Kristen, or welcoming Anna, Lenny and their cleverly packed sixer to my new home in Ecuador. I found a church in a hollow tree trunk in Fairfax where an old lady stuffs wildflowers every day- I started poaching her little church by putting things in there too, but nobody knows I do it. Thinking about my grandmother is a church for me, and so is listening to Melody A.M (Royksopp). You see? They're everywhere and every thing- like a horcrux, but a nice one.
My sisters are a church, one I am most devoted to. The four rings on my finger that represent each of us are a constant reminder that they are pieces of my whole, sort of like wearing a cross or messing with a bunch of beads.
Oddly, I have two churches that are actually physical churches. One of them is in Denmark and the other is in Cambridge (UK). I could literally spend all day and night sitting in a pew at the King's College Cathedral in Cambridge- I secretly took communion there one night last year, turning my head to make sure no one I knew was looking. I don't know why I did it, but I wanted to be part of that church in that moment, because I felt it becoming part of me.
Similarly, there is a church in Denmark that I walked into one morning on a wander. Old churches in Denmark have big wooden replicas of old boats suspended from the ceilings to commemorate sailors who have died in shipwrecks, which I find particularly charming. But that morning, Maya was in chemo again and I was thousands of miles away from my family and really, really hurting for them. It was early and quiet, and I stepped inside and felt immediately soothed by the boats and the soft twinkling glow of a table of candles. I went over and lit one, (again, turning my head to make sure no one I knew was looking). I felt like I was with Maya, Anna and Len in that moment, and it solidified that little candlelit cove as sacred ground for the 4 of us forever.
These churches are a source of spiritual crack-cocaine for me, and they provide overwhelming space and time for me to do whatever I need to do there. Sometimes they scoop me up and fill me with that crazy born-again elation, possessed and giddy by their power, unable to contain my emotion until someone slaps me on the forehead and pushes me back into the arms of reality. Sometimes I just feel wrapped up in their presence, my senses soaking in what they have to offer, and feeling like they are somehow speaking to me in a low and soothing whisper- we have a plan for me, an understanding.
A wise mom once told me that really, all you have in life is you. If you're lucky, other people will come in and out of your life, some hang for awhile and some of them are just passing through. But in the end, all you can really count on is yourself. This sounds a little depressing, but I find it awfully comforting. All she is saying is that you should always make yourself as solid as you possibly can, continue to fill up your tool box and surround yourself with churches to remind you of exactly who you are at your core.
I guess the idea here is to let your churches charge your batteries so that you can sit back, relax, and enjoy life. They are a great place to visit and just be. And if shit starts to crumble, your anxiety escalates, or you are faced with that intimidating sea of question marks, you will have the self understanding and strength to (in the words of another 'church') "take them all on one by one, and run them off their feet".
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