John Tyler - Noland Trail

I am sitting at the expansion of a great field. After emerging from the crowded woods I can now see hundreds of yards in front of me. The crickets are getting louder as the sun dips below the unseen horizon masked by the treetops. I am surrounded by colorful space omitting greens and browns. The grass underneath me is cool to the touch and the blades are severed at the end.  White paint has been sprayed across thousands of these severed blades forming a straight white line. Man has been here and changed the face of nature. The severed, painted blades of grass are different and exposed.  I try to imagine what this field looked like before humans ever made a mark.  What if the very ground I am positioned on served at one time as a place of worship for Native Americans?  It is possible that I could be treading upon sacred ground without even knowing its story.  

John Tyler – The Reciprocity of Sacred Place (Lane)

“This sacral relation to the earth involves a reciprocity between person and place. As one has been nurtured by the soil and ambience of a given locale, one learns – in turn – to revere the site that has become the anchor of memory” (Lane, 6).

The earth is full of sacred places ranging from temples to fields which give rise to religious expression and personal discovery.  In some sacred spaces, people find themselves removed from life’s distractions and in tune with the Divine, or Ultimate Reality.  Generally, after an encounter with God, people leave changed and emotionally connected to that experience.  There are pilgrimages to the Holy Land because they serve as a place of encounter.  It is through these sacred journeys that people find new meaning to life and a fresh project to implement.  The Bible in particular, is full of accounts where men encounter something greater than themselves; the living and relational God.  It is in these interactions that the Holy appears and the subject becomes present.  An emotional bond is formed between the person and the surrounding environment.  This sacral relation to the earth, according to John K. Wright, “involves a reciprocity between person and place.” (Lane, 2002, pg. 6).  Thus, the Christian expression of communing with God provides purpose to both the subject as well as the sacred place itself.   

Amanda Ewen-Nolan Trail

Nolan Trail

A slab of concrete edged by a worn iron fence, overlooking onto the river.  The water is brown and not very nice looking but so full of life.  There were hundreds maybe even thousands of small fish. The fish weren’t beautiful or colorful but the fact that there was such life in such an urban place surprised me.  When I stepped up onto the concrete overlooking the water the last thing I expected to see was fish.  They were all swimming into some kind of urban tunnel. Why would the fish be fighting to swim into the tunnel when they had the whole river to swim into? The whole time that I was watching them swim they never got closer to their goal of making it into the tunnel, however, they kept going, never stopping.  This experience stood out to me out of all the life we had seen on the Nolan trail because it was so relatable to our society.  The fish had a whole river to swim in but they were fighting to become a part of the urban environment.  We also do this.  We have so much land to explore but we only want to settle down in the urban environments. 

Karl Brown Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture Appendix A 10/26

I like the concept of the distinction of symbol vs. sign. It seems important to have an open and modifiable icon with the potential to add one’s own meaning, the symbol. However, at the same time there is a more concrete manifestation that does not necessarily have to require likeness, the sign. The author defines them in such a way that they are such polar opposites that it is almost as if one cannot exist without the other. Open vs. closed system, likeness vs. non-likeness, etc. I also like that the individual has the power to change the symbol if they can manage to exert influence over the necessary authorities/groups/religious orders/etc. I just wish the book went more in depth into the defining of signs.

                      

Building onto this concept with dominant symbols, I have a question. Does changing the dominant symbol (we mentioned earlier that symbols were alterable) modify the ritual itself? The text says that the dominant symbols "represent a crystallization of the flow pattern of the rituals over which (they) preside" (246). What are the ramifications of altering a dominant symbol significantly? Can you change the core concept of the ritual itself, or is it not possible to alter such dominant symbols due to the resulting changes that would occur in the ritual? This just occurred to me, and I think I will have to remember to ask in class or during a Tuesday Tea to find out just how this works.

I love the idea of root paradigms. I feel as if social order and social norms are everywhere, and root paradigms seem to sort of sum that up in an almost religious context. I think that we are influenced by our peers significantly, from things as little as where we sit in the classroom to things as large as how we choose our life partners. I find that root paradigms are corrupted by TV and media in general, and have been skewed greatly. I wonder how the author factors in those outside influences to his definition. I believe they certainly play an enormous part in how humans interact and are "molded" per say. I think in this day and age it is not just each other that play a part in shaping us, its electronic boxes and printed press that form, for better and for worse, our beliefs and practices. I think that the author needs to address media when looking at social models for root paradigms; it really plays a huge role in society today.

John Tyler - Different Degrees of Kenosis?

"To encounter him, we must also empty ourselves. Through such kenosis, we provide a space in which he can appear. Self-emptying is, in other words, a form of receptivity" (Mensch 67). 

Mensch describes the term kenosis as a self-emptying and surrendering of one’s will to God’s divine will.  This is ultimately depicted in the life of Christ when He emptied Himself to become an obedient servant to the Father’s will.  This action, according to Mensch, perfectly embodies receptivity to God’s creative action.  With Christ as the Mediator, the sacred is to be related to by both self-emptying and receptivity.  Through openness and kenosis, one can create space for the Holy Spirit to fill and manifest.  God creates a dwelling place in man by breathing out His Spirit.  In this ‘spirit filling’ man’s preoccupation with the self is transformed into a preoccupation with God.  The ego is lowered while the Wholly Other is lifted. 

The Oxford American Dictionary defines kenosis as the renunciation of the divine nature, at least in part, by Christ in the Incarnation.  Is Mensch using a different definition of kenosis or would he ascribe divine nature to man?  Are there different degrees of kenosis such as that of the incarnation vs. the surrendering of one's will? 

Karl Brown Landscapes of the Sacred Chapter 3 10/21

                I find it very fascinating that the Navajo intertwine both spiritual life and heroic standing in their culture. It is stated in the text that one of the most difficult things a Native American hero can do is ascend to the highest point in the area then proceed to locate and name each and every sacred place that he can see. One might assume a hero’s most difficult task would be a warrior’s task, such as the scalping of enemy tribesmen or an epic emotional duel with a wild animal. Instead, the true test of his mettle has huge religious connotation. Are all the Native American tribes like this, or is it primarily the Navajo?

                One thing I can relate to personally is the ongoing connection to soil as a means of relating to earth as sacred or at least with strong emotional connection. It is mentioned in the text in all kinds of contexts, ranging from Native American rituals to farmers relating to the ground as earth when they go to tend to their crops. It correlates to me on two levels. First, I get the basic concept. The idea that we are attached to the ground and the earth and that we can draw power in some form from it makes sense to me. Furthermore, I know I personally brush up against leaves as I walk past them, touching them, sometimes breaking them off, and feel somewhat closer to the area and the trees, getting general vibes of energy at times when I do so. There is something so concrete about my experience which I feel resonates with the dirt experiences the Native Americans and farmers have.

                I think it is tragic that there are instances of Native American sacred sites being desecrated as a result of legalistic rulings seeking nonspiritual gain. Although I am an atheist and not the most religious of people I have a lot of respect and sympathy for the Native Americans. Native Americans are not only one of the most downtrodden and exploited cultures in America today but also one of the most ritualistic and religious groups present in our country today. The fact that we stole so much of their land in such horrible ways (Trail of Tears comes to mind) is bad enough, but the fact we continue to damage or destroy their land by means of federal court cases just sickens me. A court case citing the fact that Native Americans are using an “unconstitutional establishment of religion”, no matter how legally sound, is morally abhorrent to me. I sincerely hope that Native Americans are able to resist further encroachments on their sacred ground.

Karl Brown Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture Chapter 1 10/20

I found the idea that once you could no longer confess to your sins you would go on a pilgrimage very interesting. The concept that confessed sins could pile up and become unmanageable seemed very interesting to me, as I had previously been under a different impression. I had thought that there was never a full buildup, and that confession was an end-all in all cases for Catholics looking for a way out of their misdeeds. However, the concept that a “load can no longer be borne” makes a lot of sense to me.

The fact that there is an initiatory quality of pilgrimages seems intuitively obviously to me. How can someone undergo such a journey without something first happening to them to start them on that path?  I understand one can simply dive headfirst into a pilgrimage, but upon doing so I still believe that it would be impossible to avoiding an initiation of sorts upon entering if properly embarking on a pilgrimage. I was wondering if this applies to all sacred journeys, or just pilgrimages? I understand that in many cases there is not even a distinction, but when there is a sacred journey that is not a pilgrimage is an initiatory quality involved? I’ll ask this during our next class that I remember.

What is the main distinction between a pilgrimage and a sacred journey? From my interpretation, a sacred journey is simply going from A to B in a potentially sacred environment according to the 4 axioms. However, a pilgrimage is a sacred journey to officially predetermined sacred places and usually includes others of the same faith joining you. Am I on the right track with this distinction, or not? Once again this is something I am going to have to ask about in class.

I like that the pilgrim is not expected to anticipate any remedy upon his journey, in contrast to the tribal ritual. This goes along with what we have studied in other texts, in which anticipating a cure or result may even put you in the wrong mindset for such a sacred occurrence to happen. As the book says, “magical beliefs do in fact abound” but they are a result of the will and the attitude of the pilgrim as they set out, not the mere fact the pilgrimage was undertaken. This seems to have a parallel to the axiom of sacred place, “Sacred Place can be tread upon without being entered”, in the sense that it is not just participation that is required to reap the reward of the journey.

Natural Setting- Maymont- Catherine Buttner

The Syllabus says we have to write at least two blog posts about experiences in natural settings, so I decided to write about when I went to Maymont a couple of weeks ago.  I was visiting my parents in Richmond for the weekend along with my brother, my sister in-law, and my two nephews and my niece.  On the way to Maymont, I was kind of distracted and stressed about a couple of my classes, so I didn't know how much I was going to enjoy walking around at Maymont.   My mindset was kind of like "let's get this over with" because I was supposed to drive back to Newport News later in the day and I had a lot of schoolwork to do.  Additionally, I was really tired from spending the weekend around three small children who don't sleep. 

The first thing we did was walk to the bear enclosure because it was 10:30 a.m., which is when the bears are the most active.  They were running around and playing with each other and swimming, which was really cute.  After that, the children wanted to explore the hilly area that's covered with bamboo.  I had to help my youngest nephew (age 3) climb around in that area because of the steep terrain.  This reminded me of how fast he's growing up and how he'll be able to do climb steep hills by himself pretty soon. 

Next, we went into the Japanese garden area.  My nephews kept wanting to walk across the stepping stones in the pond over and over again, which reminded me of how I used to do the same thing when I was a small child.  The stepping stones seemed so far apart when I was a 3-year-old, but now, as an adult, they seem very close together.  It's interesting how our perceptions of things change as we age.  My oldest nephew (age 6) kept trying to push me into the pond, which was hilarious.  He kept asking me "Why won't you jump in?" and I tried to explain to him that it was a gross, algae-filled pond that probably contained a lot of bacteria.  I found it interesting how different the experience of being in a natural setting is when I'm with these children.  They are distracting in a good way.  Normally, I would see Maymont as a peaceful, spiritual place where I can "escape" from the stress of life and reflect on things.  But this time I was more interested in watching how the children enjoy the place with their innocence and playfulness.

Noland Trail - Catherine Buttner

Catherine Buttner


Although I was looking forward to this particular lecture because it would be a nice change of scenery from the typical classroom setting, I was kind of flustered when I arrived at the trail.  This was because I initially drove to the wrong location on the trail, so I was almost late.  I was relieved when I was finally able to find the rest of the group and I quickly calmed down.  The first thing I noticed was how sunny it was so I was eager to get out on the trail and enjoy the weather. 

As other students noted, the statue seemed out-of-place to me, even though it was interesting.  Statues tend to give off a cold, monumental vibe which was a strong contrast to the warm, inviting environment of the trail.  I was impressed with how Dr. Redick was so knowledgeable about the various species of plants that were on the trail.  If I had been on the trail by myself I might not have even noticed those plants.  At the beginning of the class, I noticed how everyone's "energy" was different from how it normally is.  Everyone seemed so peaceful and upbeat and spiritually connected to nature.  It really amazes me how nature is powerful enough to completely change people's moods.

As we progressed deeper into the trail, I found myself losing sight of everything that I was stressed about previously.  Before I arrived at the trail I was worried about some of my classes and the high number of papers I had that were due at the same time.  Those concerns seemed to drift away and I started to have the "flow" experience.  It was a pretty powerful thing.  I wasn't spaced out but it was like a different state of mind.  I was completely engrossed in what I was doing- absorbing the stillness of nature.  After the class ended I walked around on my own for a while, and I could hear God reminding me of his love for nature and how he put it here for us to enjoy it.  I can see how the Noland Trail could represent a spiritual journey or a sacred place to some people.  The sacred place doesn't have to be anywhere specific, it could be anywhere. When it was time to go, I didn't want to leave because I didn't want to return to normalcy.  I wish I'd had more time to enjoy the trail.  I will probably go back there soon. 

Karl Brown 10/4 Landscapes of the Sacred Reading 2

One of the most pulling parts of this entire reading for me is by far the section concerning the Vietnam War memorial. Although a lot of this class I have not had an extensive outside personal connection to, the memorial is in multiple ways a notable part of my life. As a Washingtonian I have had countless experiences driving by the memorial and watching others interact with it. I have even experienced it firsthand, walking alongside its black walls and absorbing its larger than life statues. I also have a close family friend who is a veteran that suffers from PSTD and mental illness as a result of chemical warfare during the war who visits on Christmas and Thanksgiving. I have heard tales from the war from a firsthand survivor and met someone who is directly connected to this memorial.

One of the things that fascinated me most is the idea that a sacred place could be made almost entirely artificially, set aside completely from longstanding natural formations and what my prior misconceptions of what constraints sacred places were held under. Also, there seems to be the lack of a direct religious or spiritual attachment, or at least potential for one to occur. However, after reading the author cite the 6 moments of nature for a subject to actively perceive a landscape by Edward Casey, it became clear to me that the Vietnam War memorial truly was a sacred place. I don’t think that I could have the same experience the author had; I do not know anyone who gave their lives I could realize in a vision-like moment. Regardless, I now intend to return to this convenient to access location and attempt to actively perceive the landscape, as described in the text, in a manner I had prior overlooked.

My favorite concept from the reading was by far topas and chora. The idea that a location could be transformed from mere location to an energizing intimate spot by result of an experience makes perfect sense to me. I can think of locations that I walked past countless times, but after one single act in my life now evoke emotions and are a part of me that I could never forget. The definite quick change as a result of specific, tangible events seem logical to me. But I wonder if the transformation from topas to chora can happen over time. For example, walking down my street in my house back home when all the flowers are in full bloom creates a sense of home, peace, that I belong, beauty, other indescribable emotions, etc. But it was not a specific experience during any one walk that did that to me, nor was it the first time I beheld the street in its beauty. Rather, the topas to chora transition happened over years and years of living there in that house and going on those walks. So now I wonder, is it possible for the transformation from topas to chora to happen over a significantly long period of time of exposure to a certain location (not simply limited to a specific event occurring)? My own experience leads me to question the criterion under which a location can become chora to oneself or others.

Karl Brown - Natural - Nolan Trail Visit 10/4

The trail walk started off bleak for me at first. I had been awaiting this excursion into the Nolan eagerly, and had prepared myself mentally as best one could for such an occurrence, but fate had other plans in store for me. My skateboard broke twice in an unsettling manner, setting my overall mental state into a sort of stress that resonated into the initial gathering of students. I remember wondering just how that would affect the outing en route, knowing quite well it could have quite the negative impact if I did not snap out of my state of mind. Fortunately, a ride back to campus was offered quite easily upon arrival. Although not in the heightened state of anticipation I hoped a relaxing cruise on my board would set me in, I soon recovered and set off to absorb and interact as best I could.

The blending of the concepts we had learned thus far and the setting we were placed in served to distract me from the lecture. Although I absorbed most to all of what was said, I still found myself occasionally drifting off into the sights, sounds, and smells around me, trying to integrate the concept of how a full immersion over a long period of time could cause a sacred journey to take place in ones self. I found the history of the location and the statue we saw initially interesting but also almost negative. The presence of a horse being tamed seemed to taint the overall objective we were attempting to achieve and served only to detract from the natural environment in my eyes. Should I be focused on the statue as a not sacred but maybe important place or symbol? I am not sure but it seemed to be to be a poor addition to the overall vibe that resonated from the escape into wilderness we were trying to achieve.

We continued onto the trail. This is where I truly started to feel immersed in the very beginnings of what in some circumstances could turn into a sacred journey. Being on the Nolan Trail once again felt good, a pleasant escape from dreary campus surroundings that I had unfortunately been immersed into these past weeks. However, at the same time the joggers, man-made trail objects, and other non-natural items served as a distraction. Am I expecting too much of a zen-like state, or are other individuals and the occasional sign something that one will have to expect if they ever do undergo a sacred journey? I'm starting to think that the latter might be the case. Fortunately, once we are allowed to roam free my ride is willing to venture into the woods, off of the path and into the semi-unknown. This is the state of the Nolan that truly interests me, devoid of human presence as much as the Nolan can offer. We walk into the woods for a distance, and I start to sink into nature. However, I am jolted back into humanity as when something unusual that catches my eye turns out to be a water bottle wrapper.

We walk a little further, then start to head off in a direction that should eventually lead us back to the path. I return to the car, happy with the outing but wishing I had more time to truly look into the Nolan. Something for my next visit, I suppose.

Curtis Pittman-Noland Trail

Class on the Nolan Trail was awesome. I’m from a small town called Surry and the woods are what I grew up around. The scenery on the Noland is very similar to that at my home. I enjoy hunting and during the fall and winter seasons I will spend the majority of my free time in trees and blinds taking in the great outdoors. Hunting, to some people, is a grisly sport that incorporates the killing of innocent animals, but to me, it’s a time to relax, reflect, and bring home dinner for the family. One of the interesting things that I found while on the Noland was bayberry. Dr. Redick pointed this out and told us that it has a very strong scent and can be used for hunting. In the world of hunting today, there are odor eliminating sprays, soaps, pants and jackets that protect human odor and keep it out of the air. Animals that are usually hunted, such as deer, have a very keen sense of smell and can sense a human from a mile away. From the Noland class, I learned that I can use natural smells to hide myself in the woods. Thank Dr. Redick, you just saved me a bunch of money! Another highlight of the nature walk was seeing an eagle soar across the water and land in a nearby tree. Watching this bird majestically fly through the sky was remarkable. This overall experience gave me relaxing feeling and a sense of being home, I thoroughly enjoyed in this outdoor classroom.

I was late on Wednesday (sorry again about that), so I missed the beginning of the class, and I assume the part where we talked by the river, but I picked up by the statue. Out of everything we looked at on Wednesday, it was the most out of place, it made no sense because it wasn’t at all natural. Paths can be formed by anything that goes the same way over and over, maybe not that well maintained, but they could be natural, a huge statue doesn’t occur naturally. And the point of the statue was to show taking nature and making it something less.
Walking through the woods was fun, but given how much time I spend in those woods, not to mention how much too close for comfort contact I have with the many varieties of prickly bushes so that didn’t give me much except memories of too many war games, and getting lost in the woods.
When we broke I went back to the water, stared over the James River from the bridge and then came closer. I went out onto trees that hung out over the water. It mixed blue, pink, purple, even slight gold tinges. It was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes you hold your breath and stare into the sky, the kind that demands pictures, the kind where you worship God in the silence and fall against the water, wanting to be a piece of it even if it’s just momentarily, longing for that connection, knowing that it has to mean something. It’s a hushed silence that can’t be touched, can’t be altered, but it’s tame. You want to stand there forever, but it’s a stillness that slowly fades away until it’s nothing. There is power to it, it isn’t the kind that stands up for itself, so like God. Something that is completely surrounding, but you’re asking where it is, standing there with it, wondering what it is and what it’s supposed to be.
I’ve seen other kinds, the kind of sunsets that you have to speak, or sing. I’ve seen the ones you have to scream they’re so drenched with power. I like those better. Sometimes it’s easier when God just comes out and says that He has power, is power. Otherwise you’re fumbling around in the dark, wondering where to go and watching sunsets. It doesn’t have to be that powerful, but the more of red, gold and flame there is, the more that the sky burns, the louder they are, the louder I am, and the easier it is to deal with the fallout. Sunsets go away quickly. By the time I had concaved myself to walk away the sun was beginning to dip and the sunset had already changed. Even the loudest one goes away and the only memory is the stars that burn in its place.