journeying through the mountains in fall...

We are travelling slowly by car north through mountains and forests towards Ottawa. For me, this is the best season to be on the road: the maple trees are turning red, the oaks are becoming brown, the birch boughs are yellow, while the pines remain ever green. The farm fields are flat after yielding their late summer corn and the apple orchards are ripe and ready for picking, too. The sun at twilight rests low in the sky, its angle casting long shadows as well as warm, amber rays everywhere. It is glorious.

In some of these hill towns there was the first frost last night. And it won't be long before some see snow. A few years back, we had a blizzard on October 1. It was rare and that may have added to the serenity it brought as business and
 schools shut down, the roads remained empty, and silence ruled the day. We took Lucie for a long walk  through the wetlands and woods so she, like those who wait upon the Lord, could "run and not be weary, walk and not be faint." (Isaiah 40:31) For most of this trip, however, we'll be basking in the warm, late summer sun of September as it moves towards the autumnal equinox on Saturday.

The more I listen for the prayer cues from God's first word - creation itself - the more grounded I feel. My cousins in Judaism are preparing to greet the New Year with the High Holy Days - and these ceremonies and prayers ring true to the mood that abounds at this time of year. My Christian tradition used to honor this seasonal shift too with the Feast Day of Michaelmas the Archangel. It takes place on the cross quarter day of fall in the Northern Hemisphere when both day and night are the same length. The sun is half way between the solstices. Darkness grows. The harvest ripens. Shadows lengthen. Change is palpable as
evenings cool. According to the ancient archetypal tradition, the Archangel is doing battle against Satan for the soul of the church. The feast day's proximity to the end of autumn harvest helps link the abundance of God's grace above and the bounty of earth's blessings below.

These days, however, most Christians are too busy to notice Michaelmas: it is barely mid-September and Halloween paraphernalia clogs the stores before they're littered with Christmas glitter. These long drives to Ottawa are cleansing both for my eyes as well as my soul. Rather than feel overwhelmed by the gllitz I get to look upon the land - and it tells a very different story. The land speaks of cycles and trust, it articulates a rhythm through size and color, it rises and falls, grows and rests only to start again. The Reverend Dr. Cynthia Bourgeault has noted that creation's journey from darkness into light back into mystery is mirrored by the prayer/work life of traditional monasteries. The day begins with boldness - a psalm of celebration - in a typically masculine Yang chant; but closes with the Magnificat of Mary - a tender Yin song to re-enter the stillness. Living close to the land reinforces this ebb and flow and invites a respect for the way we interact with the land as well as the way we spend our energy.

We human beings are the consummate artisans of energy. It is our cosmic role, and we wield it whether we like it or not. But most of the time we wield it unconsciously and destructively, thinking we are doing something else and unaware of the delicate homeostasis by which the visible and invisible worlds are held in harmony. If we were to take a snapshot of present day America, from the imaginal or inner-visionary standpoint, looking not at the deeds themselves, but at the quality of energy they generate, what we would see might be a sobering picture. When we lock up our homes and become obsessed with personal safety, we are generating "fear." When we bulldoze farmlands and forests to build tract housing and strip malls, we are generating "greed." When we fill the planet with sixty-hour workweeks and destroy family harmony to make big bucks, we are generating "stress." These psychic toxins poured into the imaginal world quick make their effects known in the sensible realm. It is clear that the real pollution of our environment is not just at the psychical level - the destruction of the forest, global arming, industrial and nuclear waster - but at the psyoenergetic level as well. We poising the well from which our being flows and then wonder why cancer has reached near-epidemic proportions. Tragically, it often the most sensitive and most cosmically attuned individuals who sicken and die... We must now regain the balance in the only ways possible: consciously and voluntarily seeing and assuming our part in creation. ( Bouregault, The Wisdom Way of Knowing, pp. 57-58)

Beyond the beauty and meditative joy of this journey, we're heading to Ottawa to join with the L'Arche community in an evening of conversation and prayer concerning non-violent communication and forgiveness. Honest and clear acts of forgiveness are essential in community. Later in the week, we will gather again to celebrate the wedding of two beloved friends and colleagues. This too feels right at this time of year. In my smaller community of family, we will soon be celebrating Louie's sixth birthday on the Feast Day of St. Francis. Then we'll regroup again for a pumpkin festival. And when all the feasting and festivals are over, L'Arche Ottawa will leave for Taize, France and a pilgrimage of trust. When they return, it will be winter - time for deep reflection and waiting - and a new charism in God's grace.