Orient Point
I love nature. I once told my son I would like him to go with me to the far north, because it was in the wilderness that I felt closest to God. In the cities and suburbs we seek God in church–a safe, pleasant and convenient experience. But I can appreciate why the ancient Greeks had their temples open to the elements; on rocky, windswept slopes overlooking the sea. How can you not feel the power, the presence of God, by the sea?
Weekends, vacation, any day I can manage it, I get away to Orient Point to walk the road by the beach. I generally walk in silence, just soaking in the feel of the breeze, the smell of the sea and sea pine, the individual cries of birds. Sometimes after I start my walk, everything seems to blend together and envelop me; other times I’m aware of the slightest scratch and flicker of movement. It’s during these moments some special treasure of nature unfolds and leaves me in awe. This week I have had three such moments: watching a box turtle dig her nest; spotting a tiny baby bunny nestled a few inches from my sandal; and chancing upon a juvenile golden eagle. The young eagle was perched on some riprap right near the entrance to the park. Huge talons, curved beak–I recognized those from living in S.E. Alaska. I usually walk with binoculars slung around my back, so I whipped those around for a closer look. I couldn’t believe I was seeing an eagle. The brown eyes looked back at me calmly, steadily, unafraid. I see, but I don’t believe. Where have I heard that before? Something to contemplate on the walk back.
