Holy

Is there anything more holy than the tree in my yard on whose rough bark I place my hand? I know that in this moment the tree I touch is standing in the unlimited now. There is no past or future, only the eternal unlimited now. Nothing could be more holy.

If I must think about it, the tree has a history. Every particle in it has been around since what I imagine to have been the beginning of time. I think that is something over 14 billion years it has existed, but that is simply the limit of my imagination. Even though every part of me was also there at the beginning of what I know as time, my memory of that presence only goes back a relatively few years.

I can also imagine that this holy tree has a future, but that too is outside of what I am knowing right now. As this tree has an unknowable beginning, so does it exist as far in the future as I can imagine. I can see no beginning and no end, and that must be something like eternal. I know that some speak of the tree and my touching it as impermanent, but there is some aspect of this tree that is permanent, something that extends beyond time. That seems holy to me.

When I experience the tree in all its holiness, I know that the same applies to my hand. It too is holy, has existed as long a time as I can imagine, and will persistently be present in whatever future I can imagine will arise. The holiness of my hand extends to whomever and whatever my hand touches. Everything I perceive has rested on the altar of eternal timelessness. All I perceive is holy.

So I walk into the sunshine of another day, aware that all I see and touch is grounded in holiness. There is nothing I perceive that is not holy. I move my holy body forward, enjoying the holy union I share with everything around me.