Do you have to go to Machu Picchu to stand in awe of the beauty and power of God? No. But there are certain places in the world that not only shout in your face but invade your whole being; so that you become one with all that is there. And words cannot be expressed, only tears and laughter in light of the fullness and grandeur of the Divine. These places are sacred. Machu Picchu is one of these places. And in a certain way you (or at least I did) have a certain expectation that it will be this way, in places marked and known for their power and beauty. But this same power, the experience of the beauty and glory of God, is waiting to suprise you in the seemingly everyday ordinary, if you look deeply enough and listen intently enough. It is there waiting to capture and invade you in the same way in a beautiful flower, a smile, a child's laughter, a beautiful melody, a star filled sky, the hand of a friend, a kiss from the one you love, or a random act of kindness of a stranger. It is there in the story of a woman who survives each day, or the sweaty and dirty campesino who cultivates the earth, or hidden in the wrinkles of skin that map their own personal history of the struggles and joys of being human. Sacred, beauty-filled places, like Machu Picchu and Plum Village, are here present in every breath, if we are mindful.
In gratitude for the sacred and beautiful, large and small, world famous and unknown, always present with me and you in this moment.
This blog began with my experience in Peru as an Incarnate Word Missionary and will continue to chronicle the footsteps on the path I make by living each moment through thoughts, questions, reflections, and stories. The title comes from the Antonio Machado poem "Caminante no hay camino" which tells how there is no road, the road is made by walking (se hace camino al andar). Blessings on the journey! Bendiciones en el camino!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Remember
The Sacred Valley gets its name from the river that runs through it called the Sacred River. The Incas said the river was a mirror of the heavens. Water was also holy and respected. It could bring life and take life and all the land and peoples were connected to the Sacred River, as well as the mountains, the sun, and the moon. Today, driving or hiking through the Sacred Valley, the Sacred River runs brown, no longer reflecting the heavens but rather the dirt of erosion and pollution.
This culture and people that had so much respect for the earth and recognized their connection to it, was conquered, raped, and massacred right along with the earth for which they cared. This is the European history from which I come. This is the Catholic history from which I come. The Spanish Church and Pope with gold in their eyes and greed in their hearts eagerly approved and consecrated as a holy mission from God the genocide of an entire people; people who were able to use the rich natural resources around them for all they needed, who were able to create accurate calendars and markers of time and seasons, who built palaces and temples with minimal resources, and who celebrated and honored the divine presence in the world around them. But they were barbarians, heathens, devil worshipers ... at least according to the Church. Why? Because they recognized and revered the power of nature instead of claiming false power to control and dominate in the name of God Almighty. One of my tour guides at Machu Picchu said, "Men think they are the owners (dueños) of the earth, but they aren't the owners of anything. We are here for but a short time; from the earth we come and to the earth we will return. The Incas recognized this; the Spanish did not." From womb to tomb mother earth births us into life and receives us back in death.
And I found myself wondering where is God in all of this? God isn't in the giant churches and cathedrals built on top of ancient Incan temples and buildings. God isn't the giant White Jesus statue high on a hill with arms outstretched looming down at the city below, offering constant reminder to the symbol of Catholicism used to dominate and destroy. But God is present here and always has been. She is in the mountains, the soil, the trees, the crashing river, the rocks. Sophia still speaks to those who listen; ancient wisdom of unity, reverence, and care. She whispered to me in silent meditation on top of WaynaPicchu sweet melodies of love, joy, and deep sorrow. Remember we are One.
This culture and people that had so much respect for the earth and recognized their connection to it, was conquered, raped, and massacred right along with the earth for which they cared. This is the European history from which I come. This is the Catholic history from which I come. The Spanish Church and Pope with gold in their eyes and greed in their hearts eagerly approved and consecrated as a holy mission from God the genocide of an entire people; people who were able to use the rich natural resources around them for all they needed, who were able to create accurate calendars and markers of time and seasons, who built palaces and temples with minimal resources, and who celebrated and honored the divine presence in the world around them. But they were barbarians, heathens, devil worshipers ... at least according to the Church. Why? Because they recognized and revered the power of nature instead of claiming false power to control and dominate in the name of God Almighty. One of my tour guides at Machu Picchu said, "Men think they are the owners (dueños) of the earth, but they aren't the owners of anything. We are here for but a short time; from the earth we come and to the earth we will return. The Incas recognized this; the Spanish did not." From womb to tomb mother earth births us into life and receives us back in death.
And I found myself wondering where is God in all of this? God isn't in the giant churches and cathedrals built on top of ancient Incan temples and buildings. God isn't the giant White Jesus statue high on a hill with arms outstretched looming down at the city below, offering constant reminder to the symbol of Catholicism used to dominate and destroy. But God is present here and always has been. She is in the mountains, the soil, the trees, the crashing river, the rocks. Sophia still speaks to those who listen; ancient wisdom of unity, reverence, and care. She whispered to me in silent meditation on top of WaynaPicchu sweet melodies of love, joy, and deep sorrow. Remember we are One.
Things that made January 2nd the best day ever of 2010
(in order of occurrence)
1. Sarah Watson came to visit me!
2. Presents from home
3. Books! two particular highlights: a signed copy of Quest for the Living God by Elizabeth Johnson and Mirrors by Eduardo Galeano (which I can't put down!)
4. Letters from friends at SLU
5. Chocolate..mmm... thanks mom!
6. Eating Papa John's pizza for lunch at the airport (I miss pizza so much!)
7. Being in Cusco and exploring the city
8. Eating Thai food for dinner! curry is so delicious (there is no international food in Chimbote)
9. Playing Spanglish scrabble with Sarah at dinner
10. Ice cream for dessert (no perfect day is complete without ice cream)
11. Listening to a strong rain storm patter on the roof with thunder in the background (we don't really have any precipitation in Chimbote)
12. Falling asleep in the city of the Incas with a good friend from back home.
1. Sarah Watson came to visit me!
2. Presents from home
3. Books! two particular highlights: a signed copy of Quest for the Living God by Elizabeth Johnson and Mirrors by Eduardo Galeano (which I can't put down!)
4. Letters from friends at SLU
5. Chocolate..mmm... thanks mom!
6. Eating Papa John's pizza for lunch at the airport (I miss pizza so much!)
7. Being in Cusco and exploring the city
8. Eating Thai food for dinner! curry is so delicious (there is no international food in Chimbote)
9. Playing Spanglish scrabble with Sarah at dinner
10. Ice cream for dessert (no perfect day is complete without ice cream)
11. Listening to a strong rain storm patter on the roof with thunder in the background (we don't really have any precipitation in Chimbote)
12. Falling asleep in the city of the Incas with a good friend from back home.
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