Hazelnuts of Wisdom forum: Sacred Ground

Quoting:
By Robert Kirby

The Salt Lake Tribune

Updated Jul 23, 2010 05:30PM

The world is covered in religious sites, holy places and spiritual spots. Mormons have the Sacred Grove, Jews the Wailing Wall, pagans have Stonehenge and Muslims have Mecca.

For the more secular minded, other places conjure feelings of deep meaning and reverence: Appomattox Courthouse, Plymouth Rock, Woodstock, etc. There’s Taco Time for Larry Erdmann.

When it comes to any sort of pilgrimage, human beings have a deep-seated need for geographical orientation. We all have hallowed ground we turn our hearts toward.

I’ve been to many of the major ones: St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome; the Hill Cumorah in New York state; the temple ruins of Malta; and even Machu Picchu in Peru. All were inspiring to one degree or another.

But when it comes to spiritual places, the spots that hold the greatest meaning for me are mine alone. They are common places to everyone else, but sacred ground to me.

Last week, Killer and I got off the freeway in Boise. We drove through the old neighborhood and then past one of the holiest spots in my entire life.

There’s a crack in the sidewalk in front of Garfield Elementary. I didn’t put it there. It just happens to mark the exact spot where a skinny girl named Cynthia shyly told me I didn’t smell bad.

I learned the truth about girls and cooties that day. It changed my life. Forty-seven years and I could still feel the energy in that spot.

There’s also my Sacred Manhole Cover of Second Chances on Wasatch Boulevard. In 1970, I landed on it after hitting a car on a motorcycle. I blew out both knees but didn’t die. Whenever I drive over it now, I remember to feel grateful.

When it comes to places of sorrow, there’s the used-car lot I was standing in a year later when I heard my military draft number announced over the radio. It’s part of Grand America now, and may explain why I feel a little nervous when I walk a particular hall.

That’s what historical or spiritual places are: geography where a singular event transformed your life and has the power to keep doing it to you.

When it comes to that, I’ll stack my parents’ front yard against anything a church or a bunch of historians ever marked out. Although it’s sacred ground now, there was a time when I cursed it. Typically, whenever I had to mow it. But that changed.

There’s no historical marker there, and probably never will be. But I can point out the exact spot where my entire world stood still 35 years ago.

On July 6, 1975, that patch of grass became the scene of a major turning point in the long and bitter battle for my soul. Right there, in that very place, I persuaded a gorgeous woman to marry a fool.

You probably have places like that. Visit them often. You can’t tell where you need to go if you don’t honor the places where you’ve been.