Getting from here to there

Much like going somewhere in your vehicle, sailing has approved lanes of travel.  And they are referred to with such phrases as channel, roads and freeway.  A channel is a specific area that is deemed safe for boat travel, and is typically maintained for that travel by dredging.  Often channels occur in areas that may be, too shallow and have been made deeper by the dredging.  For example, Galveston Bay is   a relatively shallow bay, but right through the middle of the bay is the Houston Ship Channel.  The depth of the channel is maintained at about 40 feet.  This is for the big ships to bring cargo into the Houston Port.  I say big ships, but not the massive ships.  Those must wait out in the Gulf of Mexico.  

Roads can be places where multiple channels meet.  One of the busiest seaway roads in the US is Bolivar roads, just outside of Galveston Texas.  At Bolivar Roads, the Texas City channel, the Houston Ship Channel and the Inter-coastal Waterway all intersect.  So you have big ships, long barges being pushed by towboats, shrimpers, pleasure craft, and for an added bonus, the ferry between Galveston and Bolivar trudging to and fro.  It is one of the busiest water crossings in the US.  Freeways are pretty much like vehicle freeways, vehicles moving about freely, avoiding one another.  It is not a place to anchor.  Of particular importance in the Gulf of Mexico is that you are not allowed to plant oil or gas rigs in the freeway.  Think of building a skyscraper in the middle of the interstate.  Not a good thing.  

One evening on a Gulf of Mexico crossing from Galveston to Port Aransas (9 hours by car - 42 hours by sailboat), my friend and I were on evening watch.  She was at the helm, I was on watch.  The moon was full.  The silence was only interrupted by the lapping of the waves against the boat and the occasional and infrequent clanking of a mark.  It was perhaps as quiet as you can imagine the earth being.  And as I scanned the horizon, and the surface of the water, as my job on watch was to do, off our port side probably at least 5 miles away was the silhouette of a massive ship.  Silently gliding parallel to us.  It was a hauntingly beautiful moment, one that revealed the beauty of nature and the thankfulness of technology which would have alerted us to her presence, had she been any closer. 

It was a strangely thin place.   

Sailing vocabulary

As with all things new, there comes a new vocabulary.  Or at least new definitions for words you may already know.  Clearly in sailing, there is a completely new vocabulary.  Let me introduce you to a few of these, and introduce you to the boat that I spend a great deal of time on, however, never enough. 

The boat that I sail on is the Katie. And whether named after women or not, all boats are referred to as females.  Some sailors say it's because they are fickle, others because you must spend time with them to know them well.  The Katie is a slow, comfortable boat.  Think recreational vehicle.  Think Airstream.  She has beautiful lines, is very well designed and is very forgiving.  She sails magnificently, and once she finds her track in the water, she will stay on it.  

Down below she is fully equipped. There is a galley (kitchen), in which one person at a time can stand. It has a two burner stove top and oven, a double sink, ample storage, and most importantly a fridge with freezer.  This is a massive refrigerator, think double door 20 cubic feet.  Keeps all the provisions, just right.  In the Main Salon -- dining area and sofas, there are two banks of settees, and a fold up table that will seat 8 in a pinch.  Usually just right for the three of us.  This is also our entertainment area.  In the evening we may watch streaming video or even watch images from the days exploration.  The main salon can also sleep up to three if required.  

There is the head -- bathroom.  It has a sink with pressurized water.  There is a pump toilet that acts like most camping toilets or toilets in Mexico -- it isn't always happy about paper.  When you close the door to the head and pull back the shower curtain, the faucet can be removed to use as a shower head.  It is even complete with a hook for the nozzle so that it appears to come out of the wall.  

There are two distinct sleeping quarters -- the V berth (bed) and the quarter berth.  Both can offer complete privacy, but we rarely close them off.   Generally my friends sleep in the quarter berth which is smaller accommodations, but they like to be close together.  It is in the aft or stern (rear) portion of the boat, near the navigation station.  So it makes sense for the Captain to be near the instruments and radio.  Typically, I sleep in the V-berth.  It is in the front (bow) of the boat, and is V shaped.  It is the bigger of the two private accommodations, but we often store stuff in the other half of the berth.  And because of the V shape people taller than 6 feet have difficulty fitting.  Even at 5'5" I often bump my head or my toes.  

While we are able to sleep on the boat anchored out, away from land, on the high seas if you will, that is not our preference.  We prefer to be in a marina, at a dock, attached to shore power and water.  That is how the AC runs.  

it is a form of living in community, albeit a very small community.  We each have tasks that we are assigned and the three of us depend on the others to complete their assigned tasks.  We meet others who travel in similar communities at yacht clubs, marinas, and other gatherings.  

it becomes a thin place

Sailing

I love sailing.  

My friends introduced me to sailing about 14 years ago, and I was addicted immediately.  It is freedom.  It is edgy.  It is driven by intellect.  Thinking people sail.  And perhaps, and best of all, it requires you to slow down. 

Two things.  Travel times are exponentially longer when sailing. For example, traveling from Houston to Galveston Texas by car takes about 45 minutes.  Houston to Galveston by sailboat takes about 6 - 7 hours.  The boat that I sail on has a top speed of 7 knots -- that's about 6 miles an hour. We travel at about 5 nautical miles per hour.  So you learn to take your time, because all you have is time.  And at most points of sail, you can't do anything but watch the world go by very, very slowly.  

Secondly, while it is easy to plan for the unexpected, the unexpected often occurs.  And that slows you down.  Once we were prepared for a quick 6 hour sail home, and the causeway was closed.  So we anchored out for 4 hours.  Waiting. Patiently for the bridge to open.  There was nothing we could do but anchor, and polish the teak.  Today we waited for a hurricane gate to open -- we waited for an hour and a half while workers finished the day on the gate.  So while we MIGHT have been at the dock at 5:00 p.m.  It was nearly 6:30 p.m.  So things that you take for granted in your daily commute, are actually not common place in sailing.  

This slowing of time gives you the opportunity to think and ponder on many things.  Most often I turn to prayer -- not for fear -- but for the beauty that surrounds me.  For this force of nature, water, that I get to be upon.  

And this is a thin place.  

Monastic timeshares

As you may be aware, I enjoy traveling.  Literally, that is what, in part, searching for thin places is about.

So on a mini-Isle of Iona reunion a couple of years ago, one of my more vollies and I traveled about Texas and on another fabulous island, Galveston we birthed the idea of Monastic Timeshares.  It's like sofa surfing, but with that monastic, holy flair.

While in Galveston, on Broadway we found an old, historic mansion for sale.  It was a 6 bedroom, seven bath home that had survived the storm of 1900.  We had a fabulous discussion about how we would operate a bed and breakfast for those seeking a holy retreat in an amazing setting.  It was located about 45 minutes south of Hobby Airport in Houston, and clearly not nearly as laborious to access as getting to Iona.  The only snag, well not the only snag, was that each of us wanted to have the blue bedroom. The larger issue was the price.  Which was a teeny bit more than our combined incomes, for the next 20 something years.

But the idea was born.  Monastic timeshares.  We decided that we each had "starter" homes for our timeshare, and could recruit more participants.  So a home in Brisbane, Australia, Bossier City, Louisiana and Galveston, Texas.  We worked on recruitng a member of the Iona community, but I am afraid that our extensive knowledge of squatters rights in the UK may have scared him off the idea.

Its a very cool idea.  To travel throughout the world, searching for the thinnest of places, staying with folks of a simliar bent.  That makes searching all the more enjoyable.

This could become a thinner place

Running right along

As odd as this sounds, I am becoming a person who runs.  I don't mean that I dash about to and fro.  No I mean a runner, as in one of those persons who simply puts on running shoes and runs.  

Now, I can wholly rationalize this.  I did not start out to be a runner. I am by nature and body habitus much more suited to walking.  I love to walk so much that I am planning a walking pilgrimage next summer that will entail lots, and lots of walking.  The fly in the ointment for next summer is elevation.  Some of the walking will be at altitudes -- different walking  altogether.  I asked a friend of mine, who is a serious runner, one of those extreme marathon dudes, what would be the best way to train to walk at higher altitudes?  His response, train for a 5k.  It will give you the stamina that you need.  While I could see the logic in that, I wasn't quite sure how to go about it. 

Turns out, they have an app for that.  Actually they have MANY apps for that.  I started with an app that I already had to monitor my walking, and it turns out it had an option for training for a 5k.  However, one glance revealed that the app was WAY more optimistic about my ability than I ever may have been.  And I didn't want to make a false start.  I found this other delightful app, that started the running so slowly and slow insidiously, that at first it wasn't really like I was running.  And the time frame was good, I was to run about three times a week.  By the end of the first week, three days in, I was looking for excuses -- to run more!  I knew running was moving towards addiction when on a rainy morning, I donned my foul weather gear and RAN.  

Now by no stretch of anyones imagination, including my own, am I a future marathoner.  My pace times are only a little faster than I actually routinely walk.  But now I am physically able to use the other more exuberant app (because I finished the first one), which is building better stamina and increasing my pace.  One of the additional benefits I have received is the support offered to me by people I don't even know.  A couple of older fellahs, and by older I mean just a bit older than me, cheer me on as I run past their condos.  One of them told me he was so proud of me.  A much younger man, who was completing his run, told me that he felt my pain. Right, 100 pounds and 30 years you will feel my pain, but I appreciate the sentiment.  

All this is to say, you can do things that you can't possibly imagine that you will do.  Clearly, running doesn't sound all that much of a challenge, but you literally have to get off your butt, put on your shoes, and get out there.  Just like real life.  And, interestingly, it has become its own source of holiness.  My constant prayer while running is please don't let me fall, just like real life.  And for a few brief moments, while pounding the pavement in a new way, it is simply me and God, lumbering along. 

This is a thin place.  

from day to day

A real struggle can be finding the holy, the thin places in our day to day.  Because there is so much that goes on in our day to interfere with our search or awareness of how God is at work.  And even when we attempt to focus, things quickly distract us.  How might we be more attentive?

If a thin place is where the veil between heaven and earth can be brushed easily to one side, how can we be more attentive for those places?  How can we tune our beings to be more aware of those moments and places?  I think one practice can be to attend more to the moments and those that are around us in those moments.  For whatever reason, whether having worked in service industries or having had so many large classes of students or even from serving in the local church, I tend to ask people to tell me their names.  From the casher at the grocery to the waitress in the restaurant, I talk to folks using their first name.  Doesn't actually mean that I will recall their name later, but I will address them by their name.  This credits a level of familiarity and dignity between the two of us, which I find holds them in a place more credible than simply being the nameless person.  

Because of the variety in my past, I always make a point of knowing where I am.  Not simply in terms of geographically, but in terms of who is in that space with me, and what is taking place in that space.  The beauty or starkness of a place needs to be observed and appreciated.  It is a place, regardless of how we perceive it, that God has made.  It has a purpose, even when we don't understand it, that must be honored.  Often we look past areas which we are familiar with, or see too often, or choose not to see.  I think one way we can become more aware of thin places is in watching for them in places that we might not anticipate there presence.  Sure, the Isle of Iona is a thin place.  As is St. Joseph's Abbey, and any of the holy sites in Israel.  

But equally thin are the places like Bossier City, La, 

let's look in our own places for their thinness.

Among the brothers

Truly one of the most amazing places I have ever traveled to is St. Joseph's Abbey in Covington, LA.  A mere five hours or so from my residence, this may have been the first thin place that I encountered.  And although it is different for me today, both physically and spiritually, it remains among the thinnest of places.  Here the veil is truly drawn open.

St. Joseph's is a Benedictine monastery, nestled in the forest of the Northshore, north of Covington, north of Mandeville, north of New Orleans.  Like the Isle of Iona, you don't accidentally arrive here, you have to have the intent of showing up at the Abbey.  The grounds host a retreat center, the Abbey church, the monastery, a college and seminary.  And while there is nothing unassuming about its church, it remains quite simple.  None of the grandeur of limestone, it is constructed of brick and mortar, and the interior furnishings are constructed of the materials of grounds it sits on, the pews constructed of pine harvested from its forests. 

To access the grounds, you have to cross a single track bridge, one lane, either going in or out, no opportunity for indecisiveness halfway across.  Years ago, the abbey church and other structures were not visible from the bridge, towering oak and pine blocked the view, but those were wiped out by Hurricane Katrina, which not only redecorated the grounds, but changed the life of the monks. 

I was drawn here many, many years ago, having the beauty of Benedictine traditions revealed to me through books I had read.  It was here that my call to ordained ministry was affirmed.  Affirmed by a monk whose own tradition would not ordain me.  I include a few images to catch its beauty, and perhaps in small part its holiness. 

And so it goes

Doing a quick visit/tour of NOLA (New Orleans, LA), Covington, Denham Springs, and Baton Rouge.  These are all great towns, big and small in the southern part of Louisiana. New Orleans and Baton Rouge account for the majority of our population center, with New Orleans claiming the capital of fun and Baton Rouge claiming the state capital.  

I have done alot of time in both places, not a prison sentence, well almost.  Following Hurricane Katrina the church that I served made a one year, which became an 18 month, commitment to send a team each month to help rebuild.  Some of the most rewarding, and devastating work that I have done.  And  our jobs changed as the time passed.  We began by mucking out homes and clearing debris, and ended by hanging drywall and painting.  All that to say I have a fairly good understanding of the town.  I tend not to visit the tourist spots, where newly emerging college students are attempting to determine what their alcohol limit may be.  I love to stroll through the garden district and view the great homes, and the smattering, big smattering, of churches.  If nothing else you must remember this place was settled by the French and the Spanish -- we got us some fine churches.  

And we got some fine and different people. Geographically New Orleans sits essentially surrounded by water, as you may have learned, which makes it an island.  An island, although attached very much apart.  And islands, as you may not have learned, attract an especially odd assortment of characters.  Now clearly some are here to entertain the tourists, but others are here because they belong here and wouldn't fit anywhere else.  A couple of fiends of mine and i used to come to NOLA for Halloween.  The game that we would play was "who is dressed up and who looks like that every day of the year?"

As I was riding in on the trolley last night, a tall middle aged man with raggedy clothing got on and sat a couple of rows in front of me.  He looked tired.  Not sleepy tired. Bone tired.  Life tired.  And he had hair.  Lots of hair. Hair that was unkept and reached the floor.  Seriously.  Would not have been surprised if not so tiny creatures were living in his hair.  It was pretty stunning.  He arose from  his seat to exit before me, and I gave him a big smile when our eyes met.  And he smiled back.  I offered "enjoy your evening," and he responded "thanks, I will."  He was just a big ol' scary, hairy guy headed home.

it was a thin place. 

In the everyday

Here it is the summer time and my plans for this year are rather mundane.  That is to say I am not traveling amazing lengths of time to any far off and glorious place.  And that is not to say that I am not going to visit glorious places, they will simply be closer to home.  As it turns out, if you want to travel extreme distances, someone has to pay for that, and I would be that someone.  So this is a working summer.  But if my premise has become that thin places are where we are, and we only have to them where we are, then what greater excuse could I have to search for thin places in my everyday.  

Now the inherent problem is perhaps two fold -- the largest of which is what if the everyday is not a thin place or doesn't actually have the potential to become a thin place -- well certainly no other way to discover that than by jumping in with both feet.  The second problem, one that I encountered when attempting to write this blog during Lent, is that "real life" can impose itself with such voracity that I am not permitted or not able to keep up with the blog.  The beauty of writing when removed from the day to day is that you actually have time.  So the challenge is maintaining the blog, and the search for thin places in the midst of reality.  

And what about those glorious places.  Well on tap this summer, a quick multi-purpose jaunt to New Orleans, 10 days sailing the Texas coast, a pleasure and business trip to Colorado, and a host of summer school classes.  Plenty of potential for the thinness of places.  

Will you come along?