I like it much better than “religious” or “spiritual” — to be a seeker after the sacred or the holy, which ends up for me being the really real.

– Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, from the On Being conversation, “This Hunger for Holiness”

I found the holy on my walk this morning. The outdoors are holy to me. The outdoors are real. The holy is indeed real. The urban park just off the trail built on an old railroad line behind our loft is an oasis. It’s big enough to get lost and found in. It’s big enough for people to gather and be alone. It’s big enough to be quiet and loud. It’s big enough to see all the seasons up close. It’s big enough for a botanical garden, dog park, farmer’s market, music festivals, and public art.

I am a seeker of the real. I seek connection and depth. I am curious. I practice gratitude. I remind myself to breathe in moments when it all feels too much. That all feels real and holy, to me.

There is a rhythm to the holy. Let me explain. The holy has a constant beat, like a drum or heart. It’s sound reverberates and moves. We hear it and dance and breathe. That is what the holy does. It dances and breathes. The holy is everywhere and at the same time beautifully placed. Moving between larger than life and small enough to hold is part of a holy rhythm, too.

It all comes down to real. The holy is real in the way that stillness is real. The holy is real in the way awe is real. The holy is real the way joy is real. Doubt and noise and fear are not real. Hate and cruelty and separation are not real. The holy is real.