On Holy Ground: Grief, Awe, and the Invisible Strand of Nature

An early bloom, a quiet reminder: we’re never as alone as we think.

“Nancy, can you tell me about a time in your life when you felt fully alive?

A moment when time took on a curious quality.

An instance when you felt part of something bigger than yourself.

Some people might call that a spiritual experience.”

Nancy didn’t have to think very long.

Her eyes glazed over as she relayed the moment her beloved husband died after a long fight with cancer.

“Barry suddenly woke from his terminal sleep. As he took his last breath, and for the first time in months, he smiled at me. A tear ran down the side of his cheek. It felt like I was on holy ground. The room was charged with a sudden spiritual current as Barry transitioned to the other side, his suffering replaced by an expression of peace.”

Nancy’s moment of spiritual transcendence did not end there.

As she left the hospice that day and arrived home, the rose bush Barry had planted for her was in full bloom. It was mid-April—an entire month ahead of its regular blooming schedule.

As mystical as Nancy’s story may seem, in my tenure at the Center for Grief and Loss, I encountered numerous accounts of deeply spiritual experiences. Most arose through encounters with the natural world.

The Invisible Strand

The spiritual connection between humans and nature is ancient and undeniable. It’s like an invisible strand that ties us directly to the heartbeat of Mother Earth.

Every so often, a window opens. We become aware of that connection. Joy fills our existence so intensely that we lose the illusion of superiority and separateness.

For a few precious moments, we move from ego and separation into an eco-centric awareness of connection. We claim our birthright as part of a greater whole, part of an unnameable, benevolent force.

What if the purpose of the spiritual journey is to uncover those moments?And what if part of the work is placing ourselves in environments where transcendence is more likely to meet us?

We do not have to travel to space or stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon to encounter the strand. But we are far more likely to discover spiritual connectedness in a garden than on a social media page.

Awe as a Clue

When you think of the words awe, wonder, or beauty, what images come to mind?

If pictures of forests, water, mountains, or blooming flowers emerge, consider that a clue. We are genuinely bonded to the living world: to animals, trees, and the soil beneath our feet.

I believe human survival will depend on a re-awakening to our place in the web of life, and on fortifying the strand that connects us back to the source of all life on Earth.

The strand is there.

Sometimes it reveals itself in a hospital room.

Sometimes in an early bloom.

And sometimes, if we are quiet enough, it reveals itself right in our own backyard.