Where we are staying there is an ancient Native American Burial Mound on which less than sensitive white settlers, placed a Gazebo on top. Many people have commented on how obtuse and crass the person was, who dared to plant the Gazebo on top of sacred ground. Still there is an argument, that had the Gazebo not been placed there, the mound and its remains, would have most likely been mowed down and forgotten like so many other ancient, sacred places. That reminded me of the parable of the old farmer questioning whether the labels of “good or bad” ever fit any situation. Often things that are good for one group, are not so good for another group. In short, when considering most happenings, it is what it is, and you can find good and you can find bad in just about anything, if you spend enough time pondering about it. But, I am digressing. Back to the scene: within half a mile of the mound are two beautiful, old charming protestant churches. The whole area looks like something out of a story book. Each quaint church has its own tiny little courtyard filled with fading tombstones, decorated with colorful flowers and ribbons. The ultimate truth of this lovely space on earth is that many, many different people from different cultures and from different periods of times in life, considered this very spot of land to be sacred enough to honor their dead. This lovely place which I am visiting is hallowed grounds. And I can feel that sacredness in the depths of my heart, as the memories of many, many lives spent in these parts, are carried in the gentle autumn winds, swirling around in the fallen leaves.
“There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.” – Wendell Berry