Contemplation connection

 I spent yesterday morning in a church. I haven’t been in one for years, at least not one of bricks and mortar. I was at the funeral for a close friend. It was a Greek Orthodox Church and most of the ceremony was in Greek. I had familiarized myself with traditions just because I thought it would be good. I have been part of this family’s lives for nearly forty years now and only now finding myself at a funeral.

Of course it was very sad. His death was completely unexpected. He was comparatively young. His grieving family sat in the first two pews, all in black, as was I. The casket was wheeled in and opened. My research told me that was custom but I couldn’t see. A large man blocked my view of the casket. Without knowing what was being said and unable to train my eyes on the casket I gazed around the church. 

Every church has its own beauty and this was no exception. The depictions of saints and angels were everywhere, elevating my own thoughts as I sat there drinking in the sorrow, peace and solitude of the hour. I understood the draw of church to pull us away from our everyday existence to slow and meditate on things outside ourselves. It occurred to me while I scanned the angels, saints, Virgin Mary and her baby Jesus that a church coupled with the drone of the priest might be the only meditation or peace some people may allow themselves. 

I find my peace in nature, trees, woods, rivers and oceans but it’s sometimes harder to immerse myself within because the whir of daily life bleeds through too easily, and then there are ticks. I don’t think one church is any better than any other, for the value they provide our connection to the divine. I firmly believe that we need some connection to a divine in order to avoid insanity. I think that blindly moving through life without some touchstone leads to a harmful disconnect.

  Now I’m in my car in a parking lot while my beloved has an appointment. This part of the lot backs up to a lush wooded section. Acorns are dropping here and there, hitting the roofs of the cars and rolling through the lot. It’s as much like the church, my church, but the scream of the highway is ever present and there’s no incense. I like incense, always have. 

My son was very sad, often troubled as a little boy. He had lots of trouble in school. I used to tell him to think of ten good things and express thankfulness for those things. It could be anything, kitties, rainbows, snow, or comfy clothes in the cold. I told him that being grateful for things would help him. I know it helped me. My sons’ difficult time was also a difficult time for me. I was sharing what was working for me. I look back on those times as a beginning to my spiritual reconnection and journey. To his credit, my son seems to be doing fine these days. The journey is never actually done and I suppose, and like plugging our devices in to recharge, it’s a constant reconnection process. We just need to find ports to connect to when we need to recharge. 

Back to the church, the funeral and the saints; I took that time to reflect and once again, reconnect to the divine. That idea that the dead never leave us was very clear to me there, but not as some ghostly figure. He was there in the family he left behind, his legacy. It was as if he had poured all the love he had for everyone gathered there and they had absorbed it all, with connection. Absorbed it all with connection to the deceased, to each other and to the divine, however each perceives that.

I was moved, to say the least as I am nearer to the end of my earthly journey than the beginning so these things occupy my thoughts at times. Seeing the connections we all build, watching the process work, drinking in the peace around me fills me with peace. May we all find peace and feel the love along the journey.