Sacred Place Chooses/ Nature experience- Christine Ellis

The idea that sacred place chooses, it is not chosen really struck me over spring break. I went hiking with my father for the first time. We had gone “hiking” before, but not like this. We had been planning it forever but I just always resisted. My father had this idea that we just had to get up at four in the morning to do anything physical. This was no exception. Somehow though, when I saw the place shrouded in dense mist, I didn’t care how tired and grumpy I was. I loved the feeling of the moss on my hands when I reached out to grab a tree. Whenever we would stop to rest, a wave of quiet would rush over me. I felt deathless and still, even in motion. It was like there was a complete cellular communion, a fusion, between me and the mist. I remember in Lion King’s documentary when one hiker, after reaching the end of the Appalachian Trail, said “I don’t got no words for this moment. I have nothing but feeling.” To some extent, I get it.