The Church of Higher Elevations

There is an underlying subject in the last two posts, but you probably haven’t noticed it. Until recently it wasn’t really clear to me either. I danced around it in “This I Know to be True” until I got distracted, forgot I was dancing, and walked away before the music had even stopped. In “Walking in Sixes” I danced, I sang, and I had such a generally great time that, as is too common for many of us in our fifties – even without Alzheimer’s, I totally forgot why I had hosted the party. It’s all become clear to me now though so let me clarify that both of those posts and this one, are about me getting religion.

After forty plus years of deliberate and conscious but admittedly not regular contemplation on the subject of religion, until just recently my assessment was that formal religions, western religions and fundamental interpretations of any religion in particular, are nothing more than devices for managing the masses; tools in the hands of those who want to stay in power to suppress ambition, free thinking and free will; and ways to give those with very little capacity for autonomous thought a system of principles and rules which if followed regularly would likely keep them out of major trouble. The only real benefit I’d concluded that practicing one of the mainstream western religions might legitimately bestow upon the regular churchgoer is a sense of community and the opportunity to regularly interact with friends. But for me the price of admission to that social club was way too high. I never understood why anyone would want to practice what always seemed to me such archaic dogmas and doctrines to get closer to God. Admittedly, while I’ve never doubted that there was a God out there, I’ve also never felt the pressing need get in close touch with Him.

To quickly resolve the potential for concern that has erupted in the minds of those who know me and are confounded by my use of terms here, please understand that I use “God” and “Him” in the broadest of interpretations. For me, these are terms that in essence acknowledge that there is something greater than the individual that has to be considered; infer that no woman or man is an island; and suggest that there is a spiritual component to living. It was that spiritual component that recently reawakened in me and forced me to consider some aspects of what are most commonly considered to be religious practices in a different light.

The Japhy Ryder quote referenced in “This I Know to be True” was an avenue of introduction to the notion that going to the mountains makes me feel closer to God. Climbing mountains, gaining elevation, getting higher into the clouds and sky is a workable metaphor for getting closer to heaven and God. Although, I have to admit, I didn’t find that metaphor on my own. Yet, I’ve known it to be true since I was about six. As a young boy who often went to the Elkhorn mountains south of Helena, Montana with his mother to a friends mountain ranch, I was once heard to say while climbing over a corral gate that led to a lovely mountain meadow that I was “going to go talk to God.” I had never been to church but I knew with confidence where to find God.

From that perspective you can imagine my surprise when from a very interesting book about avalanches entitled The White Death: Tragedy and Heroism in an Avalanche Zone by McKay Jenkins, I recently learned that to early Christians the “wilderness represented the moral chaos of an unregenerate world, with primeval forests the domain of demons and spirits all too eager to steal a good man’s soul.” Really! Further, in Mountain Gloom and Mountain Glory Marjorie Hope Nicholson reported the common belief among Christians of the 1600s that “mountains, like other distortions of the earth, were an immediate result of the sin of Adam and Eve...” Distortions of the earth? It’s no wonder Christianity has never appealed to me. To their credit and as far as I can tell, in the last four hundred years Christian religions have evolved a more benevolent, or at least less demonic, perspective on mountains. That’s an encouraging bit of progress so I’ve made a note to give them a thorough re-examination in another four hundred years or so.

In “This I Know to be True” I revealed that for me going to the mountains on a three day solo up Mt. Wood was much more than just a backpacking trip, it was intended to be a journey. The objective was to climb Mt. Wood but the journey’s destination was unknown. In “Walking in Sixes” I talked about chanting, but I didn’t reveal my motivation. The truth is as I began my hike up the West Rosebud valley I started to experience an emotion that was unfamiliar to me - fear. Three days and two nights high in the mountains alone, with no expectation of encountering any other humans to acknowledge my existence, let alone come to my aid, was outside my comfort zone. I was processing a long and intimidating list of unknowns that, in the dark of the night alone in a tent high in the mountains completely out of contact with anyone, might even include bogymen. At the least, I was walking alone up a valley known to be inhabited by grizzly bears. McKay Jenkins describes that awareness well.

“Your senses become more alert. You become aware of tiny sounds – every creak of a tree limb, every snap of a twig. In bear country, you become aware, perhaps for the first time in your life, that you are not at the top of the food chain. For once, nothing is so important as the direction of the wind; there is something out there that, with a mix of your own ignorance and bad luck, could finish you off.”

For the first time in my adult life I was feeling vulnerable, not adequately prepared, not in control. I felt the need for comfort and support but saw no immediate source. I was perhaps for the first time actually consciously feeling a weakness of spirit, the void that I had been benignly ignoring for more than thirty years. The conclusions of prior contemplations disallowed the option of surrendering myself to a superior non-being, a god whose holy attributes demanded emulation but were known to be unattainable by mere humans; a Pantene god who demands we confess our sins to him and then pray for our sins to be washed away, until the next time we soil our soul – shampoo, rinse and repeat.

In “Emptiness, Ghosts and Empties, Graceland, and Connectedness” I suggested that all living things share a connection; that there exists a collective consciousness, perhaps even a spiritual unity. I know with certainty that there is shared energy among all living things and that it is possible to access and utilize that energy. I very consciously did that once when I was younger, in danger, and really needed help. The outcome was astounding. Significant physical harm to me and a friend was avoided, tensions were eased, and the potential assailants just walked away. It was Luke and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s market-square encounter with Imperial guards on Tatooine. Afterwards I effectively blocked the whole event and behaved for thirty years like it never happened.

In the last few years as I’ve aged and begrudgingly relinquished some of the confidence of youth upon which, with that one exception I’d always relied, I’ve started to re-explore and embrace these concepts of connectedness and shared energy again. That’s what I was doing when I started chanting to myself while hiking toward Mt. Wood. With Om Mani Padme Hum and other mantras, I was connecting to the energy that all living things share. I was asking for strength, guidance, safe passage, courage and comfort. I suddenly got religion, that is to say I thought I understood it. I was acutely aware of a void within me that I’m assuming the acts of going to church, and praying fills for many people. My chanting sought to fill that void perhaps differently than many, but one could say I was praying, in my church, the Church of Higher Elevations.

Continue to follow if you are inquisitive - and have the time. Don’t if neither exists.

Regards,
JR