An ancient term from Celtic mythology, “thin place,” refers to the idea that there are particular locations where the visible and invisible worlds are in close proximity. This term separates the concept from any particular theology, while affirming the notion that human beings may encounter the spiritual realm in some very special places.
These sites may be in the mountains, or near the shore, but thin places aren’t only in nature. Built environments may also have a strong presence of the ephemeral. Call it a thin place, a holy place or a sacred site, but over many generations, these spiritually charged locations, I believe, contribute to our understanding of community.
We have a tradition of celebrating the individuals who help make and shape our community. Their contributions influence the way people feel connected to others around them, emotionally and spiritually. There are few times, however, where we stop and take note of those special places that make us feel those very same connections.
Several years ago, I was invited to give a talk to congregations in rural Arkansas, to share my experience as an expert in church design. I thought, however, it would be more useful to have some group interaction. Instead, I proposed a workshop to demonstrate our connection to spiritual or spirit-filled places.
The workshop idea was well received and I adapted several exercises from our firm’s work with churches. But this time, I wouldn’t be asking the participants to imagine their own church; I would have them focus on spiritual spaces in their community.
When we completed a group drawing exercise, I began to realize something important was happening. When we taped the results up on the wall, I saw a lot of what I had expected. People had mostly drawn their personal ideas of the sacred: a table representing an altar, a steeple representing the church, and tombstones representing a cemetery. But each group also included something unexpected, an image of mountains with clouds and beams of light from the sky.
I pointed out that this was the only image common to every one of the groups. I asked the participants whether the mountains were somehow more sacred because they were so different from the acres of farmland where most of them lived and worked.
“It’s not just the mountains,” one of the elder leaders explained. “There’s a specific spot that just feels so holy.” Everyone in the room nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve got to go up to Petit Jean State Park and see for yourself. From this one lookout, when the sun is just right, sunbeams come streaming down and reflect on the water in the river below. You feel as though God’s hand is reaching down to earth.”
The Petit Jean legend is a romantic story associated with the early French explorers. A young woman disguised herself as a cabin boy to be close to her betrothed. Falling deathly ill on the journey, and her identity revealed, her last request was to be buried on the mountainside overlooking the river and valley below. My wife and I had rented a cabin in the park and were lucky enough the next morning, to be able to visit the site shortly after sunrise.
In spite of the touristy signage and walkways, we were both moved by the grandeur of the panoramic scene. Before our eyes, rays of sun broke through the low cloud cover, creating dazzling crystals on the surface of the river below. The earth and heavens felt as though they were joined seamlessly together. The entire experience made me appreciate the important connection communities can have with a spiritual location. It was a clear manifestation of a thin place.
Ben Heimsath is a principal of Heimsath Architects and currently serves on the I-Act Board of Directors.
Are there thin places in Austin? Mount Bonnell? Hamilton Pool? Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Statue? The State Cemetery? Can these places, and many others, be preserved, treasured, and passed on to future generations? I hope our grandchildren will continue to experience, in these places, something special, spiritual and uniquely Austin.
Which reminds me to also acknowledge the contributions of special people who work at making and shaping the Austin community. On April 24, five such individuals will be celebrated at Interfaith Action of Central Texas’ Hope Awards. This is an annual fundraiser that focuses on individuals who have put others first in their work. This year we are proud to celebrate: Libby and Lloyd Doggett, Bertha Sadler Means, and Ray and Karen Brimble – all selfless community builders. Please join us.
