From Terry
I must have watched The First Vision (that movie staple of 1970’s and 80’s era baptismal services) dozens of times. Joseph Smith, seeking for something more than he could find in the religions of his day, ventures into the sacred grove alone. Once there, he struggles with the darkness, and then experiences a revelation – a vision – that alters the course of his life. The best part for me was always when Joseph walks out of the sacred grove, with the birds chirping and the sun shining. Having overcome his demons, he carries with him a new understanding and a refreshed optimism and resolve. This was his defining, empowering moment. He was reborn.
As a boy in my early teens, I could easily identify with Joseph’s impulse to seek truth in solitude. Joseph’s example helped me see my own loner impulse in a more positive light. My almost daily retreats into the forest behind my house, alone, to walk and explore and think – It couldn’t be THAT weird – I was just doing what Joseph did after all. The problem was, the grove behind my house wasn’t sacred. It was just some trees that happened to be nearby, and I certainly didn’t see God there. It wasn’t until years later, after we had moved away and the trees had all been cut down, that it occurred to me that as Joseph stepped out into the morning on that spring day in 1820, the trees near his house weren’t sacred either – at least not yet. It was Joseph’s experience there later that day that turned an otherwise unremarkable stand of trees into the sacred grove.
As I’ve progressed into adulthood, and experienced doubt that I never did as a child, I’ve been thankful for the peace and solitude of sacred groves. The circumstances of life have caused me to expand my definition of what might qualify as a sacred grove – I no longer insist on the presence of trees, although I still prefer them. The groves I seek now are mostly about solitude, clarity, and intellectual quiet. I’ve encountered groves in movie theaters (I frequently go alone), or lying in bed next to the person I love as she sleeps, or alone in my office reading a book or contemplating the future. It’s the truth I discover in these places that makes them sacred. But once in a while I still like to escape to places where trees are more than metaphors, where real birds chirp, the sun shines, and demons await. Some day, I hope to venture into a grove of trees, overcome the darkness, discover my own defining, empowering moment of truth, and emerge, reborn.
These are some pictures of a grove here in Edmonton (Alberta, Canada). A quiet, still (mostly) wild ravine in the middle of the city. A place with trees, although the leaves await the greater warmth of the April sun. Perhaps one day, this place too will be sacred, even if only to me.
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beautiful, thank you–
we live east of the Mississippi–in the north, and what you show doesn’t look very unfamiliar–
Very nice to read something like this, here.
Not only do we need the sacred in our lives, but the ability to create sacred space around us, continually. The example of the Prophet helps us. In the West, there aren’t such incredible groves of deciduous trees as there are east of the Rockies, but a walk through a redwood grove, or any forest, or a mountain, or gorge, still has the ability to remind me of the sacred.