Earth, Sea, and Sky

As some of you who are following this blog realize, I haven't been keeping up very well with blogging my recent travel adventures. It has all been a little overwhelming, frankly. Last week I was bicycling through Danish farm country. Three days ago I was kayaking in the fjords of Norway. Two days ago I flew from Bergen, Norway, to Manchester, England, via Copenhagen, and then drove up through the exquisitely beautiful Lakes District to spend a night in the quaint English countryside south of Keswick. Yesterday, I drove from there, up through Glasgow, and on to Oban, Scotland -- another absolutely beautiful drive. I spent the night in Oban at a backpackers' hostel, and got up this morning to catch a ferry to the Isle of Mull, then take a bus across the isle to Fionnphort, and then catch another ferry over to Iona. That's where I am now.



A couple of nights ago I counted something like forty different beds that I have slept in since my sabbatical began in March. There have been some incredible experiences, and I'm going to try to capture as much of it as I can during this last leg of my journey. I'll be going from here to North Wales where I'll spend two weeks at St. Deiniol's residential library. I hope to do some serious reflection and writing, trying to pull all of it together in some meaningful way.



But for now, I'll just share a few images with you. I've been thinking about how much of my journey on this sabbatical has involved oceans. We started out on the Gulf of Mexico in Naples, Florida. From there it was on to a rural seaside home on the Izu Peninsula in Japan -- on the western side of the Pacific. Then George and I did our bike trip down the North American Pacific Coast. From there I was home for two weeks, with some time on Peaks Island, Maine. Then Carolyn and I flew across the Atlantic and down to South Africa, where we went to the very southern tip of continent of Africa -- right about where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet. Then it was on to Scandinavia and the Baltic Sea, first on an island in southern Denmark, with visits to other islands in the Baltic. I sailed overnight to Oslo, Norway, on the North Sea, then traveled across the country by train to Bergen, where I spent two days, one of them kayaking in the fjords, just inland from the North Atlantic. And now, I'm on the west coast of Scotland, on the Isle of Iona, back on the Atlantic.



In all of those places, I have noticed how amazing the interplay of the earth, sea, and sky have been. Endlessly fascinating. I've been very fortunate to have really good weather virtually everywhere -- even the places where I was told it would be cold or rainy. The only exception has been the coast of Oregon, but we had some beautiful days there, too. It was two days ago when I was driving to the Lakes District in England that I noticed how many and varied colors there can be in the earth and sky. As I was driving along on a partly cloudy Sunday afternoon, there were about ten shades of blue, gray and white in the sky, and at least as many shades of green and brown and heather in the hills -- hillsides perfectly sculpted by ancient stone walls that everywhere mark the grazing lands for the sheep and cattle. It was striking and beautiful. And then, when you multiply the effect of being in the places where you see not only the earth and the sky, but the sea as well, with all its many colors and moods, it often leaves me speechless.



I've put together a very brief photo journal of just a few images from these places -- all of them (except one) involving earth, sea, and sky. I offer it simply as a meditation on the beauty and mystery and grandeur of creation -- a visual articulation of beauty that is truly beyond words. There's something about being here on Iona -- where St. Columba founded his monastery in the 6th century, and where so many of the early Celtic Christians were nurtured in a spirituality that was much closer to the earth than later versions of Christianity that had more to do with empire and power -- something about it that makes me want to pay so much more attention to the earth and to all of creation and what it has to teach us. One of the ancient standing crosses here at the Abbey just next to the St. Columba's Hotel where I'm staying marks the spot where the monks would have gathered for worship -- outdoors. It was the only space they needed -- a cathedral made of earth, sea, and sky.

I can certainly say that I have felt my own heart opened more fully to God through the beauty of creation, not only here, but in all that I have been experiencing in these past months. The pictures hardly do it justice, but I hope you'll enjoy them anyway.


[Hint: If you'd like to see fuller sized versions of the pictures in the little scrolling slideshow at the top of this post, just click on the link in the bottom left corner of it and it will take you to the Picassa website where the photos are located in their original size. Once you get there, click on the "full screen" slideshow. ]