I woke up the other day to 3’ (1m) of snow on the ground. It had been quite a winter storm and many places in Colorado shut down for the day while we dug ourselves out. The snow continued to fall throughout the day, but the next morning brought brilliant sun and clear blue skies. It was a winter wonderland that beckoned me to come experience it without the shovel. I bundled up and went outside, muddling through the hip-deep powder and making my way to the beloved forest.
Everything’s different with so much snow. The trees bend down, offering secret hideaways beneath their laden branches. The jagged rubble of the forest floor is smoothed over with gentle crystalline contours. Sounds are muffled near to silence, and the entire landscape feels refreshed and new. Everything sparkles too. At 6° (-14°C), clouds and drifts of crystalline jewels glisten in the morning sun.
Taking in this world of silence and wonder, I enjoyed the tranquility for a while, then checked in with the local elementals. Turns out they don’t feel cold the way we do; to them, everything is magical, and they love the snow. In the same brief “conversation,” I was informed that they really like fire! Not for the heat but for its rapid process of transmutation. It made sense when I realized what a critical role metamorphosis plays in their magic. I made a note to remember that next time I get the fireplace going and invite them in for a spell.
With a smile, my attention turned back to the crystalline silence. As I breathed, the whole area swelled with a feeling that eventually transformed into words: “This place is holy ground.” Tingles of knowing and grace ran through me, and everything seemed a little clearer, kinder, softer, quieter. If my body didn’t need warmth, I could have stayed out there for hours.
This feeling of reverence is why some people go to church, because they find it there. It’s the reason others pray or meditate, sing songs of praise or spend hours and days in nature. It’s a feeling that we crave, because it provides a moment’s glimpse of Home – the forgotten Home within. Every search for God, every religious path, and every spiritual practice is ultimately fueled by the desire for reunion. And in those brief but holy moments when we feel something like awe and wonder all wrapped up in love, the subtle connection to our own divine opens just a little wider. But is it the place that makes the moment holy? Or is it our presence?
I recently had the experience of attending church with a relative who was visiting. It has been decades since I sat through such a service and I wondered how it would be for me. Would it feel repulsive? Boring? Interesting? Nostalgic? In fact, what I experienced was two-fold.
First, from a very deep level, I was aware of bidding farewell to my angelic family. Tobias stated many years ago (here) that many of the angelic families are reconnecting on Earth through some of the various sects and religions, each with their own specific rules and dogma which served to keep the family together. The service I attended was in the religion I grew up in, which means it had definitely been my earth family, and could very well be an extension of my angelic family. Sensing this, I felt only love and honor for the gathering. I also knew that on other levels they also honored my journey, for perhaps one day it will help illuminate their own.
Second, as I looked around at the people attending, I could feel into each one. Some were there because it felt like the thing to do for now; maybe a spouse or friend was into it or they had some other reason for choosing to participate. But many were there because it felt like Home. If asked, no doubt they would point out all the logical and theological reasons it was the right place for them. But the fact is, they felt the comfort of Home, of family, and that’s a very strong pull. Their specific theology – available elsewhere in thousands of variations – simply served as the rationale for their human selves. And so, their sense of Home and their openness to Spirit (regardless of where they think God lives), served to sanctify that place and make it holy ground. Beneath all the other layers, that is what I felt.
There have been a lot of interesting moments in the news these days, especially in the political scene. One of them stands out to me today. A personal pastor of the current US president was recently filmed strutting around a stage declaring, “Wherever I go, God rules. When I walk on White House grounds, God walks on White House grounds. When I walked in The River, God walked in The River. When I go in to the dry cleaners, that dry cleaning place becomes holy. I have every right and authority to declare the White House as holy ground because I was standing there and where I stand is holy.”
It generated a lot of polarized comments, everything from those who felt she was anointed by the Almighty to those who dismissed her as utterly insane. Personally, I couldn’t watch more than a few seconds of the video because this person is deep, deep into power games and that turns my stomach. But if I take away the distortion of power, her words ring very true. You see, it isn’t the setting that makes a place holy; it’s the consciousness that’s present. My backyard isn’t any more sacred than yours – until I am there.
When I show up, conscious and embodied, every piece of ground on which I step is holy. Every place and object I observe is sacred. Every breath I take consecrates the air. Every human being I behold embodies the divine.
This is the season when we celebrate God descending to become embodied here on Earth. Yes, a lot of religious rhetoric and tradition has been layered over the essence, but Christ did indeed manifest in human form and to help us know it can be done. In fact, that’s why we’re here, to do just that within ourselves. With apologies to those not familiar with Christian traditions, what else could it possibly mean to have Jesus in your heart? Every step of the way, we’ve given ourselves the seeds of truth. And, no matter how obscured they’ve become with man’s agendas, the seeds remained pure and now are bearing fruit around the world.
Writing this, I pause to gaze out my office window at the trees still clothed in sparkling white. In one of them, a jay is gleefully flitting from branch to branch, dodging the falling snow he’s stirring up, as if pleased to simply be alive and play in the winter glory. It’s a joyful and sacred scene – because I am witnessing it. Otherwise, it’s just a little bird trying to survive the elements. My presence brings the sanctity. Now, look outside your own window and see how the view changes according to the consciousness you bring.
Reality exists when consciousness is present. What consciousness do I bring to my daily life? There are indeed moments of sublime peace and beauty, making it easier to remember who I am. There are also moments of chaos and confusion, when ugly things are happening in the world. Can I bring my Self to those moments too? If so, it creates the space for magic, because when I perceive something as holy, it’s much easier to allow it, as energy, to serve me.
Take a good deep breath, my dear friends. It’s for such a time as this that we are here, to leave footsteps of light, moments of illumination that can brighten the path of anyone who’s ready to remember. We’ve been through the darkness; we know what it’s like. And that brings such richness and wisdom to the light that we carry.
The place whereon you stand is holy ground – when You are there. The scene that you behold is sacred – when You are looking. The forgetful human angels all around are God embodied – when You remember.
I wish you the most joyful Christos time.