Announcing (quietly) Place of Peace Sanctuary
Good Morning Friends,
It's been awhile. My life has been a moving and shaking. I'm writing to you this morning from high in the hills of Odessa NY, a sweep of summer grass swaying before me, alive with bobolinks, barn swallows and redwing blackbirds, the soft green hills of Ithaca some 20 miles distant. I've let this grass grow to its full expression and I revel in whatever it wants to do. I was a farmer for years, and have had many acres under my jurisdiction, but in all that time I never had the chance to just let a big swath of grass have its freedom.
What joy! What fun to see what comes up and who joins in! I could go on about this grass for a long time, and maybe I will someday, but for now, other news, including how I come to have legions of grass dancing in the hilltop wind as I sit here with you.
In a flurry of near effortlessly aligned miracles and human kindness, and without warning ofits approach, I bought a house and several acres this March that just might be on the lip of heaven. Only now, 3 months later, do I have a chance of looking out the window or walking out the front door without shaking my head in disbelief and laughing in pure amazement at what I see. A very small chance.
It is near impossible to describe this property; for the first month the only words I texted my mom were “Beauty crowds me.” Mary Oliver inspired I believe, and well put.
The land and sky were a glut of gorgeousness, overwhelming in their bulk and vast embodiment of peace and perspective. I felt like a goose prepped for foie gras; rather than grain fattening up my liver it was the slow fall of raindrops on the pond in the dark grey afternoon, or the clouds a gleaming silver river in the valley far below, the morning sun drenching gold the highlands of the homestead.
Relief came when I realized that everything would still be here tomorrow, and the next day and the next, that I didn't have to breathe in every drop of hyacinth tucked into the grassy slope of the pond, nor witness each duck and turn of cloud shadows as they climbed the hillside across the valley at sunset.
In the past when I stood in places such as this I would drink and drink, trying to take in as much as I could before I had to leave, setting by a store of radiance for the lean times. I don’t have to do that now, it is here, every time I want a sip of beauty. Foie Gras fatemercifully averted.
I told a friend where I had moved, describing the high dirt road, and they said “wait, I know that place, it's where you take a turn through the woods and suddenly it opens up and you can’t believe where you are. It’s my favorite place in the world.”
Truly, I cannot believe that this hilltop exists, and have cause to wonder if it is possessed some sort of magical cloaking device it can throw around itself. There’s a purity and old-fashion feel here, a pocketed eddy in the flow of time.
Good Morning Friends,
It's been awhile. My life has been a moving and shaking. I'm writing to you this morning from high in the hills of Odessa NY, a sweep of summer grass swaying before me, alive with bobolinks, barn swallows and redwing blackbirds, the soft green hills of Ithaca some 20 miles distant. I've let this grass grow to its full expression and I revel in whatever it wants to do. I was a farmer for years, and have had many acres under my jurisdiction, but in all that time I never had the chance to just let a big swath of grass have its freedom.
What joy! What fun to see what comes up and who joins in! I could go on about this grass for a long time, and maybe I will someday, but for now, other news, including how I come to have legions of grass dancing in the hilltop wind as I sit here with you.
In a flurry of near effortlessly aligned miracles and human kindness, and without warning ofits approach, I bought a house and several acres this March that just might be on the lip of heaven. Only now, 3 months later, do I have a chance of looking out the window or walking out the front door without shaking my head in disbelief and laughing in pure amazement at what I see. A very small chance.
It is near impossible to describe this property; for the first month the only words I texted my mom were “Beauty crowds me.” Mary Oliver inspired I believe, and well put.
The land and sky were a glut of gorgeousness, overwhelming in their bulk and vast embodiment of peace and perspective. I felt like a goose prepped for foie gras; rather than grain fattening up my liver it was the slow fall of raindrops on the pond in the dark grey afternoon, or the clouds a gleaming silver river in the valley far below, the morning sun drenching gold the highlands of the homestead.
Relief came when I realized that everything would still be here tomorrow, and the next day and the next, that I didn't have to breathe in every drop of hyacinth tucked into the grassy slope of the pond, nor witness each duck and turn of cloud shadows as they climbed the hillside across the valley at sunset.
In the past when I stood in places such as this I would drink and drink, trying to take in as much as I could before I had to leave, setting by a store of radiance for the lean times. I don’t have to do that now, it is here, every time I want a sip of beauty. Foie Gras fatemercifully averted.
I told a friend where I had moved, describing the high dirt road, and they said “wait, I know that place, it's where you take a turn through the woods and suddenly it opens up and you can’t believe where you are. It’s my favorite place in the world.”
Truly, I cannot believe that this hilltop exists, and have cause to wonder if it is possessed some sort of magical cloaking device it can throw around itself. There’s a purity and old-fashion feel here, a pocketed eddy in the flow of time.
Every aspect of Place of Peace Sanctuary is its ministry, and each ministry is of the exact same power and profundity as the other, be it the expanse of blue hills falling to the horizon, the silent immensity of bedrock, the physicality of the soil and grass underfoot, the near constant frog song in the pond, or the sigh of wind in the white pines. Each one of these is enough to support healing, yet there are multitudes, and each one of the exact magnitude as the next.
When I told my son that the land said its name was Place of Peace he said “Yeah”, a pause, then “I sat out on the lawn on my Carhartt jacket with Izzy (our cat) last night and felt that.” For a 15 year old boy to instantly confirm the same deep quality of a place chances are pretty good that’s the name. (Oh the joy that my boy knows peace and knows the transmission of quiet with another!) What more could I want? I could want that for everyone.
So, I can feel it coming, a place for people to come and be together and heal. So far 1:1 clients have come here, but soon - maybe months, maybe a year, I will be ready to invite the public. I am pretty sure it will be in the form of a chapel or church. I see a gathering place with regular services, as well as a weekly meditation sit, and a weekly contemplative prayer discussion group.
I envision a natural building, built by a community of people that would love to be part of that, whether they are here for the healing, the experience and knowledge gained by building with natural materials, the joy of creating something of beauty for public use in a sacred place, or all of these wonderful things at once.
There is so much wounding and violence of dogma around Christianity, and I hope the word ‘church’ does not scare anyone. I have discovered, through many years of inquiry and a meditation practice rooted in my teacher Adyashanti’s Zen lineage, that there is a waft of Christianity in my foundation, one that is beautiful, sweet, and pure. It surprised me when I first felt it. It also surprised me when I heard a call to start a church about 8 years ago while on a meditation retreat. The call has never faltered, only I have become more ready.
The transmission of ancient patience and that we are each precisely and specifically loved and an inextricable part of it all is palpable here. I want to share and facilitate that transmission with people. A public place is coming, a place where you don’t need a special invite, a place that is open and ready and welcoming to anyone who wants to be here.
And for right now, I am to soak it in myself, it is my time to be held by this land and to let it flow into all the places inside that are ready for its tenderness. The church and totality of transmission and facets of ministry are already here, I do not need to create nor enhance them. I do want to take the time to understand them and allow the space for them to reveal themselves to me. What is here is so much bigger than my brain can make up. I need to do these things before I open it up to everyone.
Just as the ministry of each facet of Place of Peace is complete and equal in its offering, so is each human absolutely equal in their being. I can see that so much more clearly now. I have said it, but I fall at the feet of each of you. I see the bravery and love that brought you here, and I cannot but serve that. I know that my own wounding and unconsciousness are exactly the path I need to walk to be ready for that, and I am willing and welcoming of anything that needs to be shown to me as I heal, for myself, and for a position of leadership.
Please stay tuned if you are interested in what is happening at Place of Peace Sanctuary. I plan to write more frequently, and share the emergence of the church through email, posts on social media, and YouTube.
