Spiritual Monuments in Our Yard - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

Spiritual Monuments in Our Yard - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

Those modest monuments in our yard seem mystical at times. They make me feel good. In that sense, they might be considered spiritual . . . maybe because I put them together, maybe because they relax me, or maybe because I feel a sense of accomplishment by taking stones scattered about and structuring them in one place. I’m talking about cairns, simple man-made layers of stone upon stone with little regard to their size or shape.

For thousands of years, cairns have had a variety of uses, most often to indicate a trail, but also to mark a grave, serve as an altar or shrine, reveal property boundaries or hunting grounds. They even have been a means of communication. I’ve not gone quite that far. I just put them together because they look and feel neat, and I like them.

I first came upon stone markers when I visited Hawaii some years ago. There the rocks are considered sacred because they represent the fire goddess Pele, creator of the Hawaiian Islands. They are a reminder of the power and beauty of nature, the power of prayer and peace, and the balancing of energies that enable good fortune.

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Cairns are prominent at many national parks; commonly used to mark a trail and thus carefully maintained by park staff to keep hikers on the correct path. Some popular locations are in Scotland, Canada, Acadia National Park in Maine, Colorado, Hawaii, Seattle, etc. They are everywhere, even in our state.

The word cairn comes from Gaelic, meaning “heap of stones.” Rock piles have been constructed by a variety of people in different ways and in many places.   Cairns are mentioned in the Bible. Genesis 31:45-52 describes how a rock pile was used as a boundary. So Jacob took a stone and set it up as a pillar. He said to his relatives, “Gather some stones.” So they took stones and piled them in a heap  . . . Laban said to Jacob, “This heap is a witness between you and me today. . . . . I will not go past this heap . . .”

I plotted my cairn course. I gathered the right stones . . . flat for the bottom to guarantee stability, rough and jagged to interlock. I piled the larger stones first, tucked little stones in between for stabilization, shook them from the top to be sure they would sustain high winds, and stepped back. I positioned the cairns in different locations around the yard so that wherever I turned, I could spot one and pause to appreciate it. How very calming.

I spotted chipmunks flitting in and about and realized that I might be providing a protected habitat for some animals. I tucked a few phlox and mint plants in the largest one.

I appreciate the organic luminous beauty in a cairn. As I sit and observe them, I reflect on their simplicity and peacefulness. And, oh yes, some spirituality.

The quiet balance of my cairns is good.