The BDN Opinion section operates independently and does not set news policies or contribute to reporting or editing articles elsewhere in the newspaper or on bangordailynews.com
Kathryn Gatewood is a graduating senior at the University of Maine, studying ecology and environmental sciences. She plans to begin work in New Hampshire as an outdoor educator upon graduation.
When we think of “holy spaces,” many of us picture stained glass windows, rows of pews, or polished stone floors echoing with hymns. But what if the most profound sanctuaries are not enclosed by walls at all? What if a spiritual presence waits not in a building, but in the soil beneath our feet, the rain on the trees or the quiet stillness before dawn? It is time we start recognizing the sacred in the living world around us.
Researchers are beginning to study what so many of us feel when paddling down a river or hiking in the woods. Studies on awe, the emotion of vastness and wonder, suggest that daily encounters with nature can have a healing and transformative effect on us, much like the impact of religion. This is not a new revelation. Indigenous communities around the world have long understood the land as alive, as a teacher and relative, rather than just scenery. Many of their traditions blur the line between spirituality and ecology. The forest isn’t a place you visit to find the sacred. It’s a place where the sacred has always been.
Nature doesn’t rush. It doesn’t demand membership, perfection or certainty, nor does it always give answers. The natural world extends an invitation to slow down, pay attention and remember that you belong to something bigger and older than yourself. Even being alone in the wilderness can draw us into the larger community of life, where reciprocity becomes the necessary language that connects us all.
Nature invites us to match its slow, steady, ponderous rhythms. What would it look like to include non-human creation in our spiritual lives? Birds, rivers, soil and seasons; all of these challenge the idea that holiness is confined to buildings set apart from the regular world. Perhaps divine presence is found just as much in blowing wind and birdsongs as it is in sermons and scripture.
We can embrace spirituality offered by nature without a week-long retreat into the woods. Any contact with nature has a positive effect on cognitive, attentional, emotional and spiritual well-being. Working with the land in small ways, such as gardening, potting plants, raking leaves or even learning the names of trees in your yard, can become a form of ritual. There’s something deeply grounding about digging your hands into soil or the slow miracle of watching something grow. Larger commitments to outdoor sports, such as whitewater rafting, have been found to result in measurable improvements in well-being and stress-related symptoms. These spiritual disciplines don’t rely on doctrine, but rather on presence.
We should stop trying to fit religion into a white box with four walls. Go outside and experience the sanctuary that is always there — nature. This could be anything, from having a dedicated outdoor spot to visit every day or the feeling you get when floating down a river with some of your closest friends; spirituality will shine through because it transcends the boundary of walls.
We don’t need to abandon our religious traditions, but we can expand them. We can recognize the world around us as a living sanctuary. We can practice spirituality beyond the walls we’ve built. And we can treat the earth not as a resource to use up, but as a sacred text just like the Bible; a text that has been speaking far longer than any of us have been listening.
