In a green Cathedral

We'd been walking along the narrow woodland tracks which snake through Verditch, all overhung by overgrown Hazel coppice and slowly disappearing under summers verdance for some time, when all of a sudden we emerged into an entirely different space.  A huge space. As I stood, temporarily overwhelmed by the majesty of the place, the first thing which popped into my mind was, why people ever built temples. It seems so counter-intuitive to me stood here. Most faiths believe in some form of omni-potent creator, take Christianity (it could be many others).  Christians believe their God made the world and everything on it, so why would they remove themselves from his creation when they choose to pray? Why did they build temples, when all about them is sacred. Looking around the space I was in, this was a natural cathedral. What better place to commune with your creator(s) or however you may see it.  For me, I see natural divinity all about me when I'm out, in every flower or tree, the birds, the animals, the hills and streams, in the very land itself. Whether out in the woods, or over the hills or coast, I feel, no, I know, I'm in scared space. Every walk I take is an observance, filled with little rituals, transactions and greetings. Every walk is an opportunity to immerse myself in creation, to heal, to drink again from the overflowing cup of natures inspiration, and to return to the madness of our existence, renewed. Nothing I, or anyone, could build, no matter how cool or groovy it may be, could ever eclipse the manifest beauty of natures myriad aspects, nor the feelings derived from immersion in them.