PLITVICE

“... and I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.”

— EMILY DICKENSON

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SEEKING MYSELF IN THE WILDER PLACES

a story in three parts.

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Part One.

THE LEGEND OF THE HERMIT AND THE LAKE.

According to reports, a monk or hermit, (in Croatian: a kaluđer), used to live either in Šupljara Cave, just next to the waters of Kaluđerovo Jezero, or in Golubnjača Cave at the canyon edge.

People used to seek advice from this hermit.

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Part Two.

A DISCOURSE ON THE HISTORY OF SEEKERS,
& THE ETYMOLOGY OF DISCOVERIES.

People will go far to find answers.

In times past, a seeker would undertake a pilgrimage, and through that holy act of journeying, would find answers to questions posed in well-worn words:

"Who am I?"
"Where am I?  |  Why am I here?  |  Where am I going?"
"What is my relationship to the divine?"
"How can I heal all my hurts?"

In a similar fashion is the 'walkabout' - a rite of passage for the aboriginal males of Australia; and a deeply spiritual practice in which the young man must find his own way, surviving alone for months in the wild. 

Seeking is an act that finds fulfillment in the discovery...

. . .

DISCOVER

noun | dəˈskəvər
Latin : dis = reversal
French : couvrir = to cover

{ synonyms }

find

locate

stumble upon

learn

realise

recognise

uncover

unearth

track down

. . .

Discovery... the word itself implies:

1. That a journey of sorts was undertaken - as in the journey one must make to find gold, or a lost sock; one must go further than oneself to find it.

2. That whatever was found had existed already, and was merely un-covered.

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Part Three.

THE CONTINUING DISCOVERIES OF MYSELF

When I wish to find myself again, I go out - outside, to the wildest place I can find. Then I go in - inside myself, to the deepest recesses of my mind and body. It is there, at that exact point, where I will find myself.

There I am - in the air (the air in me), in the earth (the minerals in me), in the water (the water in me), and in the plants (the plants in me).

This is a simple discovery - an uncovering of my essential blueprint and base nature.

If I had not married, or if I had been born in another place and time, I would certainly have become a temple-living monk, or perhaps even a cave-living hermit. 

...

We drove into the hills of Croatia, far above the sea-scape towns. Up there it was cold. Everything was blanketed in snow, but the roads were clear for the most part. In the early light of afternoon, we reached our destination of the day: a series of hanging lakes, each one falling into the dark green pools of the next. As it was the dead of winter, the place was quiet, and our board-walk pilgrimage was made in a friendly kind of silence. I happened upon a cave, where I sat for a while, breathing, watching the ducks. That evening, as we descended from what felt like calm oasis in the mountains, I found myself in the midst of a violent storm, and re-learned what it means to be alive - to survive, as a small, warm-blooded body on this planet. 

This event still sits prominently in my mind, as one of a series of lessons in becoming deeply grounded - finding all that is essential to me and my existence here. It was an excavation of the root chakra, a survival course, a learning-to-live-away-from-home experience; my very own walkabout and pilgrimage.

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Epilogue.

I want you to ask yourself this:

“Who am I,
wild and untamed?”

TEMPLES

OR

... a story in which many rambling thoughts come together to form a whole new idea.

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DIOCLETIAN'S PALACE

{ a memory }

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We begin our story in the town of Split, on the shores of Croatia. The city is in our sights, and we are a small beam of light that travels through the atmosphere on this sunny, windy day. Now the Old Town is visible, with its warren of walls and hidey-hole apartments. As we descend, we see, at the very centre of the town, a large open space - a light, bright, white space - the perfect place for a light wave such as ourselves to descend into...

But what is this? Our attention is caught by the building next door: in its ceiling is an aperture, a round opening like an eye. Curiosity takes ahold of us, and we zip along through the ether, to take a peek...

Inside is a round, pink, stone room, and on the floor is a girl. Her cheeks are red with the cold, her eyes closed, she seems to be thinking. Outside are the calls of other humans, sounds of life. Inside is quiet. She is somehow more present, and yet more distant, than those in the outer world. Her focus centered, the room is a vessel, she fills it with her presence. 

...

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ON TEMPLES

{ their nature | in nature }

&

{ our role in their creation }

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What is a temple?

I want you to ask yourself this question, let the query sit with you as we delve deeper into the subject. Here, in my world, there are no right or wrong answers - only reflections and contemplations. So, let us begin by asking ourselves: what constitutes a temple?

A temple exists in space and time. Is it an object? A noun? Most of us would presume so.

Not only does a temple exist in space and time, one could argue that it is made of space and time. Humour me for a moment, if you will. How is a temple defined from the space around it? What defines it, where does the boundary lie between "the temple" and "not the temple." In physical and historical terms, the boundary of a temple is set by the walls that surround it. But what of the inner space - how might a few walls cleave the air so as to denote the space contained therein as being of a 'holy' nature, while the outer space remains comparatively mundane? Is it not the same light that illuminates each, and the same air composition, and the same stone in the walls that resides in the ground in the nearby fields? Here we are met with an interesting thought - we are forced to move beyond the confines of the logical, physical world, and into the realms of the mind and of metaphysics.

When a witch draws in a sacred circle, calling in the elements, she is creating a temporary space of a sacred nature, within which to perform her work. Does this circle exist within physical space, or in her mind, or in some other realm? 

When building the beautiful cathedral St Denis, the Abbot Suger had this to say about the vast inner space:

“Thus sometimes when, because of my delight in the beauty of the house of God, the multicolor loveliness of the gems has called me away from external cares, and worthy meditation, transporting me from material to immaterial things, has persuaded me to examine the diversity of holy virtues, then I seem to see myself existing on some level, as it were, beyond our earthly one, neither completely in the slime of earth nor completely in the purity of heaven. By the gift of God I can be transported in an anagogical manner from this inferior level to that superior one.”

— ABBOT SUGER OF ST DENIS - c. 1144

Nearly a millennium later, one Albert Einstein worked out his theories about space and time:

“Since there exists in this four dimensional structure [space-time] no longer any sections which represent “now” objectively, the concepts of happening and becoming are indeed not completely suspended, but yet complicated. It appears therefore more natural to think of physical reality as a four dimensional existence, instead of, as hitherto, the evolution of a three dimensional existence.”

— ALBERT EINSTEIN - RELATIVITY, 1952.

Since then, the unfolding realities of space and time continue to surprise us. It seems, the two are intimately connected to one another, creating what is now referred to as a kind of four-dimensional fabric that pervades every part of our universe: Space-Time. When we examine the properties of a string, or a rock, we cannot do so in a void, as Space-Time is integral to not only the being-ness of that thing, but also to our observations of it.

And yet, the world of physics tells us that space and time are not as constant as one would assume, the fabric of Space-Time can become warped, and the experience of both space and time is relative to the observer. Furthermore, our perceptions of time as being linear and chronological may be illusionary. It has even been theorised that all of time could exist right now, in space - the past, the present and the future.

...

What then, of these temples?

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TEMPLE:

noun | ˈtempəl

From:

- Latin : templum - an open or consecrated space

- Latin : tempus - time or seasons

- Greek : temenos - a place 'cut off' for special purposes

1. The dwelling place of a deity.

2. A place that is set apart as divine.

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When the Abbot Suger of St Denis, (quoted above), referred to feeling 'transported' to higher realms, he felt it was the beauty of the cathedral within which he meditated, that lifted his thoughts to a space between Heaven and Earth. Many of us will have felt the same effect, upon entering a sacred space: the feeling of calm coming over us, allows us to enter our bodies, to go deep within our minds, and to transcend our everyday worries. The very nature of a temple, cathedral, or sacred space lends itself to this effect - by enclosing a space away from the bustle of a city, away from the domestic tasks of life, the temple is separated from our 'daily' interactions. We see this, too, in the list of traditional acts performed within a temple space:

- rituals, prayer, confessions, absolution, purifications...
- memorials...
- banquets, celebrations, processions...
- healing...
- supplication, prayer, asking for divine aid...
- divination...
- the enacting of miracles...

Evidently, the temple provides a space in which all of time may exist at once: thus, the future that we pray for, and try to scry out from the shadows; the present moment that we celebrate, or mourn; and the past, which we confess to, seeking to be absolved of; all of these may exist or be accessed in the one sacred space. At the same time, a temple is a space out of time altogether. For instance, those temple goers wishing to heal themselves may remove themselves from the daily grind, "taking time out" to bring their bodies into a slower state called rest.

The liminal feeling of a temple - that notion that the inner sanctum is removed from normal space and time, while also containing the whole of it, makes it the perfect vessel for meditation, reflection, divination and manifestation. For, when the mind finds a space of quiet, beyond the rigours of daily life, and a wider perspective of existence is perceived, it becomes easier for the temple-goer to perform these tasks. It is also in that pocket of Space-Time that one may come into contact with deity: the immortal, the transpersonal, that which is more than ourselves.

Temples are a space containing all of time, and no time at all. We shall see that the same may be said of all of nature.

...

And what of the divine nature of temples?

The word temple, as outlined above, has its roots in nature. Digging down, through the rich soil of history, we can see many offshoots - those words that are in some way related to the word "temple;" conceptions of time, seasons, spaces set aside for kings... Digging further, we find that the word temple would once have been used to describe an open, consecrated space: a space that was set apart in the collective consciousness as being divine. Therefore, a temple need not be an architectural space set out by four walls, but could also include open, natural spaces without physical boundaries.

In fact, when we peer back into the depths of time, the first indications of sacred space were very much a part of the wider world. For example, a healing spring would have been adorned with flowers, just as an altar would be dressed lovingly today. A sacred hilltop may have been crowned with a stone structure, or a mound. In far off times, all the world was held sacred, all was the residence of the divine - the forest groves home to spirits, the mountains the abodes of the Gods, and the sea too.

“The grove is the center of their whole religion. It is regarded as the cradle of their people, and the dwelling place of the supreme God to whom all things are subject and obedient.
”

— TACITUS - GERMANIA c. 98 A.D.

We humans have sought out these divine spaces for millennia, seeking a place to enact our devotion and gratitude, our prayers and rituals, our healing and our search for wisdom. We have been Moses, going up the mountain, and listening to God's voice coming from a burning bush.

.
.
.  .  .
.
.
*

If we were to consecrate Each Space with our devoted gaze, all our World could be seen as a temple. 

The stone of the temple walls is the same stone in the Earth beneath our feet.

The pillars are the trees of those forests we came from.

The fonts are the same waters that flow through our world, performing the daily miracle of nourishing life.

The light that shines in rays through the high windows is that same light that pervades our Universe.

The air is the same air we breath into our bodies every moment.

The quiet is that same quiet that nature provides for us in the great outdoors, that we can provide for ourselves within our bodily temple and our mind temple.

I say this, not to degredate the immense power held within the architectural temples of this Earth, but to turn the reader's attention to their origins - the original abode of all that is divine.

All the world is a temple.

Our body is a temple.

Our mother's womb is a temple.

Our backyard is a temple.

This is a hopeful message, as it allows us to bring our spiritual practices out of the confines of four walls and into the world, into our everyday lives. In so doing, we may feel the same reverence upon entering a cathedral as when we enter our room, or stand on the shores of a lake, or on a hilltop; for, here are the archetypal blueprints for all temples on Earth, all that we hold sacred and dear.

If we look even more closely, it becomes clear that the basic elements of a temple: Earth, Air, Light, Water, Fire, Silence, Divinity, also reside within us, as our own bodies are made of carbon, water, minerals, electrical impulses, consciousness and spirit. And thus, the boundaries dissolve between the temple, ourselves, and the outside world. In the end, it is we who decide what is, and what is not a temple, a sacred space.

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ADRIATIC

POLARITIES

part one:

the coast of Croatia
is a map of snake's bellies
undulating,
dancing waves upon a rocky shore.

the sea lies close to
and kisses and caresses the shore.
valleys once home to birds
are now filled with salt water; 
mountains turned to islands
swimming in a Ria.
and even the round of the Adriatic ocean
seems like it is tempted onto the land
in a shallow sandy bay
of the European continent.
the melding of these two,
their ebb and flow,
land to ocean, ocean to land,
helps me to contemplate the polarities of life.

water is soft: yin

land is hard: yang

water penetrates: yang

land gives way: yin.

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THE TEMPEST

“This thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.”

— THE TEMPEST - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

TEMPEST

noun | ˈtempəst

1. Latin: tempus = time, season.
2. Middle English: tempest = violent storm.

It had been beautiful and sunny for days. In the hilltop villages of Croatia. In the first week, we had visited a goat farm, and had eaten cheese on the hood of our car while watching the larks fly over endless olive groves. We wandered lonely streets, alongside stray dogs, and then made our way to the coast where the water glittered at midday, and the fish markets were bustling.

We were told, more than once I will admit, to watch out for the coming weather. They said there was a storm brewing - that things would get much colder, and that sleeping in our car would not be advisable.

The locals were warning us of a seasonal phenomenon. Called the Bura, it is an immense wind, borne of the shifting airs from the Dinaric coastal mountain range. The Bura rages through towns, ripping trees from their roots. It has toppled building façades as if they were tiered wedding cakes. It has gained an infamous reputation.

The change in airs was swift. One day we were lazing by the waterside, watching fish dart beneath a silken veil that rippled in the sunlight. The next day, the ocean was tense, dark and brooding. Sea spray burst from the air into my eyes, and nose, and mouth. The wind was fierce and unrelenting, but worse was the cold: a gnawing, biting cold that pricked sharp teeth into my bones. At night the wind would howl around the car, and shriek in a pandemonium of sticks and branches that fell or were hurled any-which-way. It reminded me of the time my parent's bedroom window was sucked clean out of its frame, on a similar night.

The Bura lasted for over a week. It was like a set of hands, pushing us ever onward, along the coast. We tried trekking inland, and almost found ourselves locked in a box of blizzards, but neatly escaped back to the coast, where the rains had begun to pour down, blurring all outlines to grey smudges.

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THE SEASONS OF MY SOUL

I don't often talk about my life to strangers. I am a private person, for the most part - revealing only those parts of myself I choose to. Which is ok, possibly even the right thing to do, given the gravity of words and messages, (which are like spells cast out into the Universe, with so many resounding and rippling effects). I like my privacy, I like to choose my words carefully.

And yet... I feel there is something beautiful about revealing my beating, bare-naked heart, every so often. Perhaps it will remind my reader that, yes, I am human too. Or perhaps it will remind them that life is complex, and in it's complexity there is an element of beauty. Nothing is perfect, but in being imperfect, it is perfect for us imperfectly perfect beings... If you see what I mean.

Here I am, ready to bare my heart to you, for a moment. When I look at these photos of Croatia, a feeling of anguish and unease floats across my mind. Certainly, it was not an easy time, what with the weather, and the fact we were spending much of that stormy time in our tiny car.

But, more than that, I am reminded of the seasons of my soul... That ebb and flow within me, that sometimes brings me down to gather pearls in the dark depths of my being. If I was to put my feelings at that time into a word, it would be:

loneliness.

I was not alone - having Oliver by my side, every step of the way, is one of my greatest blessings in this life. Also, we made a few friends in the villages we visited. But there it was, this overwhelming feeling of loneliness bordering on despair. I remember sitting by the ocean and just weeping. Not knowing why. (For, sometimes there is no material, reasonable-reason to my sadnesses.)

...

Heart-ache, 
breaking ribs, 
sobbing till there are no tears.
calm nihilism, 
straight-mouthed, 
clenched throat, 
rising angst, 
battered against the walls
of a boat in a storm. 

I know these feelings
like the freckles on the backs of my hands. 

Just like I know the

dancing joy, 
pure bliss, 
fizzing, 
crown-splitting, 
harmonizing, 
elation

that I feel
in the Summer days of my soul.

...

Winter had come to my being, and in so doing, I was tasked greatly, to retrieve myself anew from a dark room where I did not know which way was up, and which was down. 

But, oh, what wonder when I surface again into the world, and see its beauty once more as if I had new eyes; and here is a thought! - as it seems that my eyes really are new, when I come into that Springtime. Just as my body reforms its cells in cycles, and I become a wholly new being, so does my spirit renew itself through death and rebirth. The lessons I learn in these dark times help me to grow. Like the aching bones of a child. 

I am so thankful for all the seasons of my life, for both the difficult times and the easy ones. I would never have learned half as much, if I had not journeyed through all those harsh Winters. I hope that you, too, can say as much, and can find the beauty in the ebb-and-flow. It is not easy, and I know everyone's path is different, but here I wish to speak a jewel of truth - let it tumble from my lips, and lay in my palms, in an act of offering.

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POLARITIES

part two:

We live in a world of polarities
we are made of star dust
and fire, and soft earth
and death, and breath
and yin and yang,
the one kissing the other close.
let them kiss, do not separate
what is meant to be embraced.

...