A Mountain Meditation: practicing Catholic mindfulness

A mindfulness-based meditation, exploring and appreciating the beauty of God’s creation.

What do you see?

I see the hills bumping up against the sky. They’re crowned with trees. A vibrant red dominates the leaves, but it’s softened by warm yellows and oranges. A hint of green still remains here and there, a remnant of the fading summer.

I see the paths cut through the foliage. Cleared away to make room for roads and power lines and buildings. Evidence of civilization. But I wonder what it was like in its original state. A wild sort of order. The chaotic beauty that God created it to be. Tangled undergrowth, towering trees. Untamed glory.

I see the clouds. White? No, golden. Drifting, sinking, disappearing behind the crest of the hill.

I see the dark silhouette of a tiny bird, darting into the air. Wings beating in a rhythmic pattern. A quick and graceful turn, and he perches atop the tallest tree. He balances there expertly, looking this way and that. Then he launches again effortlessly, following a companion out into the distance. A glorious performance. I’m in awe of God’s creation.

I see the tiny blade of grass at my feet, reaching for the sky. He’s towering above the blades around him. A deep, rich tone of green. Veins coursing life from root to tip. A crease like a backbone, helping him stand tall and strong.

And a little further away, the rough bark of a tree. Stretching, standing, tall and strong. Bare to the very top, where the limbs reach out, side to side, covered in tiny needles. A giant next to my tiny green blade. But both the blade and the conifer stand so firm in the role God planted them in.

What do you hear?

I hear the sound of a water fountain. Steady, rushing. A constant background noise. I hear the fading calls of the birds as they settle in in for sleep. They say goodnight to their Creator.

What do you feel?

I feel the wind lifting the wisps of hair off my face and neck. I feel the cool breeze cutting the day’s warmth. I shrug on my sweater and feel the soft knit mold to the shape of my arms.

What do you smell/taste?

I smell the fresh crispness of the fall air. I inhale a hint of warm smoky haze from the campfire next door. My mouth waters with a dream of sweet melty s’mores.


Catholic Mindfulness

I’m experiencing life as if for the first time.

It fills me with wonder and joy. My cheeks tug at the corners of my mouth, drawing them into a smile. I give praise to God my Creator for the wonderful world He made for me. For the sights and sounds to fill my senses. For the gift of life. For the spare moment to take it all in.

Too often I miss it. Too often I live in a whirlwind of activities and miss the beauty surrounding me.

But I can enter into the gift of my senses. In a quiet moment: while doing the dishes, while driving in the car. I can reconnect with God by experiencing the world He created for me in its tiny details.

Catholic mindfulness. Anyone can do it. Give it a try today!

11 thoughts on “A Mountain Meditation: practicing Catholic mindfulness

  1. Sara,
    This is such beautiful writing. As I read, I can close my eyes and picture myself on the hillside and fell the cool, crisp breeze brushing my cheek. I can feel the Father’s love as He shows me His goodness. Thank you for this! We must stop in the moment and draw our thoughts inward to reflect on the life that is happening around us. Bless you!


    • I’m telling ya, just a few minutes of mindfulness a day makes a HUGE difference! But you already know that 😉 Ask yourself these simple questions about your senses, and then just offer your experience up to God. It’s such an easy and beautiful practice.


  2. This is beautiful! Are you a fan of Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins? This reminds me so much of his poem “God’s Grandeur.”


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