Thin Places

Several years ago, I was skiing at Red River, New Mexico.  In those days, I was there when the lifts opened and stayed on the mountain until they closed…or until I was spent. One morning I was actually the very first person in line, so I was the very first person on the mountain.

Instead of skiing down a trail near the lift, I traversed over to a more remote trail I had skied the day before.  The mountain got 2-3 inches of snow overnight, so at the top of the trail, I gazed down on this pure, untouched blanket of snow.  I started down the mountain, hear the faint schussing sound as my skis glided through the snow.

About halfway down the trail, I stopped.  I looked back up the mountain.  I looked down the trail.  I looked all around me.  And that was when it happened. 

All these years later, it is still hard to describe.  My senses were heightened.  I was not only looking at but taking in what I saw.  It was like I could hear the silence.  The cool mountain breeze was not piercing me; it was entering me.  Something told me, no compelled me, to stay in this place, so I removed my skis.  I sat down, and eventually laid down in the snow. 

This experience was more than just nice or pleasant.  It was more than just peaceful or serene.  It was more than inspirational.  It went from me taking in this scene to being a part of a scene that someone else, maybe many others, were watching.  I was touching and feeling something deep inside of me that this presence brought to light.  Eventually, I knew it was time for me to continue down the mountain.  I spoke words of thanks and skied on.

I have gone back to that experience many times over the years.  I have thought of it in many ways.  One of those ways: I had the gift of being in a thin place.

“Thin place” is a term that comes from the mystical world of Celtic spirituality and the Celtic Christians.

 Ancient Celtics were deeply connected to the natural world; they believed every aspect of life was infused with the presence of the Divine. This included even simple and ordinary moments of everyday life.

For the ancient Celts, thin places were geographical locations or moments in the cycle of the year where the veil between the world and the spiritual realm diminished and they could encounter those who had gone before them. Over the years, some thin places have been well-known to spiritual seekers.  They have become popular places of pilgrimage, such as the isle of Iona in Scotland or Lourdes in France.

In a previous blog, I described my mom’s encounter with my brother Bobby on the day that he died, calling out his name at the very time of his death hundreds of miles away.  Because of her Alzheimer’s, she appeared to be uncommunicative and disconnected.  Alzheimer’s robbed mom of her mental, cognitive, and physical abilities. But it did not rob mom of who she was as a spiritual being, which is the essence of who we all are.  And so, for her, the veil between this world and the spiritual world was not great.  You could say that mom lived the last years of her life in a thin place.

All across Britain and Ireland, in random places, you will find markers and memorials placed by ancient people.  These stones mark thin places; they say to any who encounter them, “Something special happened here; maybe it can happen for you as well.”

Thin places do not have to be tied to specific geographical locations.  Thin places can be those locations where there is an undeniable connection to the Sacred. They can be particular to our own experience, like a ski trail in New Mexico.  Most likely, we do not seek out these personal experiences of a thin place.  You don’t find a thin place.  It finds you or your come upon it unexpectedly.

Thin places are not necessarily peaceful or serene places. 

The good news is that a thin place can make you more aware of a Divine or Sacred Presence.  The bad new is that a thin place can make you more aware of a Divine or Sacred Presence.  A thin place can be a place of transformation, which also makes them a place of challenge and dissonance.

What happens to you in a thin place may not be grandiose or inspiring or mystical.  In fact, it may be disorienting or confusing, because you are seeing yourself, your world, and your place in the world in a new way.  However, the disorientation and confusion do not feel overwhelming because this thin place is expansive enough to hold them.

I am reminded of Abraham’s journey to a land promised to him that he did not know. Several times on the journey, before he leaves from the place is staying, like the Celts, he erects and altar of stone. It was his way of saying, “This is a thin place. Something important happened here.”

I am reminded of Jacob waking up from his dream.  He doesn’t wake up and say with delight, “Well, that was a neat experience.”  Instead, he wakes up fearful and declares, “God was in this place, and I did not know it.”  And then, like the Celts I described earlier, he erects a monument of stones.  It was his way of saying, “This is a thin place.  Something transformational happened here.”

I am reminded of the words God spoke through the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am doing a new thing; now it springs up.  Do you not perceive it?”  The command is to see.  The invitation is to perceive the new thing springing up.  Why?  Because so often we do not.

So much of life happens through our thoughts, our cognitive abilities.  They help us make sense and give meaning to what we experience.  But perhaps there is a different kind of learning that is happening in a thin place.  The spirit perceives and learns very differently than the mind; thin places give us the chance to experience this transcendent presence and our own transcendent self that are always there, but often missed.

I said earlier that you can’t really go looking for a thin place.  But I do think you can shape your life in ways that are open, even expectant, to experience one.  Because of the loss of her cognitive abilities, my mom was open to the veil between this world and the next.  We have to be more intentional in our openness to that space.

I invite you to share your own “thin place” experiences, if you want.  Is there something about the way I have described these places that resonates with you?  Are there other descriptions that you would add?