My Spiritual Journey: Paradise tainted

Sitting on the front steps, cold cement and a breeze coming up the valley. Shivering, pulling my coat tighter.
Summer had faded and we were full swing into fall. I didn't like the end of summer, going back to school, or the weather turning cold. I was not over missing summer, but this was one pleasure that did not escape.
Just about every evening I would be out there on the steps watching the sunset. The mountains were alive with fall colors. That was cool enough, but then the sun would set. It was already below the horizon, and the light created a show that I wanted to see every day. The reds, oranges across the sky, against the backdrop of the mountains filled with fall color, took me back to the rainbow river. For just a moment there, I could feel that old feeling again. By now I recognized it as God. It never said anything, but I knew it was there. 
As night began to overcome the day, the mountains faded to blue and gray. As the stars started to appear,  
People around me, adults mostly, also appreciated the sunset. There was a dark side to this though. I thought they saw what I saw, and that they were enjoying what I was enjoying. 
But they said the things i said were cute. Or they just dismissed at childish imagination. Even worse, sometimes I would get scolded for saying things that were not “correct.” How the heck did I know what “correct” was? How was I supposed to know that? How did they know what was “correct?”
So I didn't talk about it anymore for a very long time.

Nature whispers the words of God

The Spirit of God speaks to us in many ways.

It is in the forest that I see god most clearly. There I find a cathedral made not with human hands, but by the word of God.

Twigs crumble beneath my feet. Leaves scatter as I walk. A squirrel shaking a limb, looking for acorns, or a rodent under the leaves scrounging for what others have left. Birds sound the alarm of an intruder in their midst.

Hearing my own breathing. My heart pounds with excitement of being with the earth again.

Looking in silent desperation for that secret spot. The clearing. A small space in the woods where I can be one with the earth. Away from the trappings of modern times. It is here my soul can find peace. The most glorious cathedral. It is not made my human hands, but by the word of God.

The clearing has been the same for 50 years. The location has changed many times. The song is the same, its just a different verse.

The small animals look for bits of food to survive. They dont know, or care, that I am equally as dependent on the woods for survival. If I am quiet enough, their fears will calm, and they will carry on with their struggle for survival.

I try to be quiet, not disrupting the holiness of the moment. The air is still. Wind is blocked by the ancient trees who stand guard over the holy ground. The wind whispers mysteries. I strain to make out what it says.

My spirit does understand the words even if my mind does not. There is a peace beyond understanding among the ancient trees. A heavy sigh and the cares of the world disappear.

Yet the dissonance remains. A low level nervousness looks for distractions. Like Adam and Eve with their fig leaves, I fear the nakedness of being with the earth.

Tempted to run and hide as they did.

I envy the animals. They have an advantage. They are closer to mother earth, to our heavenly mother who loves us more than we can know. They accept the love as easily as they breathe. They are not burdened by the chains of memory, emotion and even guilt.

Pine needles, leaves, and maybe some moss, provide a comfortable place. God provides for her creatures, whether its an acorn for the squirrel or a place for me to meet with her.

It is here I see the holiest of scriptures written on the breezes that manage to get past the ancient trees.

The Word of God is sharper than a two edges sword, dividing light and dark, flesh and bone. The holy writ I see here is the same even if they are messages that cannot be made into words.

Still a fear makes me tremble, I want to run and hide as the animals do. I am but flesh.

I am of earth and speak of earthly things. There is nothing good in me. I am guilty of eating Eve's apple pie.

Yet mother earth bids me come.

She accepts even me, along with the residents of the forest. Squirrels and small animals know this. Why is it so hard for me to know?