Alte Grimme and St. Bonifatius

Winterberg-Elkeringhausen (51.199854 | 8.584940) (51.200552 | 8.563437)

Be whole

From the summit of the "Alte Grimme" to the grounds of the St. Bonifatius education and retreat center with guest houses, meadows, old trees, chapel, tent church and transition to the municipal RuheWald forest.

Hiking and spirituality are close relatives. Why is that so? When we walk consciously, we don't just move physically. We also take inner steps. We can clarify questions. We discover new things. For example, at the moment of departure: Am I ready to let go? On the way: Am I open to the unforeseen? At the destination: have I arrived at myself? Ever since the Romantic period, when walking in nature without intention emerged, artists and philosophers have seen a hike as a powerful symbol of our journey through life. It begins with birth, then we crawl for a while, straighten up, take learning steps, increase our radius, move and rest until we reach our destination, which - depending on our beliefs - is either the final destination or the beginning of a new journey of the soul.

As I walk across the grounds of St. Bonifatius, I can run through stations of life. I start at the summit of the Alte Grimme, 755 meters high. The wooden cross, brightly lit at night and visible from afar, marks not an end, but a beginning, a birth process. It was first erected in 1935 in gratitude that St. Bonifatius could be founded as an educational institution. The initiator, a student priest, had a vision of a small village up here with several houses and a chapel. He wanted a place for reflection and genuine encounters. From the cross, I have a view of the entire area. The pastor's dream has become a reality. My gaze is drawn to a labyrinth in the middle of the estate. That's where I want to go.

The descent is the steepest I know of in the Sauerland. At one point it is even secured with a chain, which is a good thing. A path that challenges. Another symbol: I can only get further if I take a risk. The reward is immediate, as the scrambling trail leads through beautiful sections of forest, with beech, oak and ash trees that a divine designer has sculpted as characteristic individual pieces. It descends steeply along a drag lift, over the Orke stream, towards the half-timbered houses with the gray slate roofs typical of the Sauerland.

Then I stand in front of the labyrinth. It's not a maze where you could get lost. The center is also quickly found. It's about something else. Labyrinths are one of the most ancient symbols of mankind. In Christianity, they stand for contemplation. The path from the outside into one's own inner self and back into the world again. My own life sometimes seems labyrinthine to me too. Many forks in the road. Many decisions to make. What is the right one? Wouldn't another direction have been better? Uncertainty is my constant companion. Not a pleasant one, but I have now accepted it as a companion. After all, it always makes me think about whether I'm still on the right track. Deciding and bearing the consequences: I can grow up in the labyrinth.

The next stop on my spiritual walk is the chapel. Warm colors, two large candles burning to the left of the altar, which looks as homely as an ancient dining table. To the right is a tree of life sculpture. Clearly the center of the room is a very unusual depiction of Jesus. The Savior's posture is familiar from the crucifixion: legs together, arms outstretched. But... there is no cross. Just the body. In this way, the figure expresses both suffering, but also love and receiving the other with open arms. Again, a decision has to be made: do I want to engage with both on my journey through life? Am I humble enough to submit to forces that are definitely stronger than me?

When it comes to humility, there is a teacher I seek out next. Past the tent church, which attracts people from far and wide for services, the path leads into the RuheWald forest, which borders St. Bonifatius to the north. A light rain sets in. It makes the light-colored wood chips with which the narrow paths are padded shine even brighter. The beech grove only reveals itself as a cemetery at second glance. Small silver-colored signs are discreetly attached to the trunks, engraved with names and dates of death. As I stroll between the trees, I come across signs that people come here again and again to commemorate the deceased. A fresh red rose has been bedded in dark green moss. A white angel figurine leans between arms of roots. A wooden star at the foot of a mighty oak tree. I almost stepped on the cross, which has been stuck into the dense, reddish-brown layer of leaves on the ground as if camouflaged. Two branches, connected with a string, nothing more. The cross looks primal, primitive, its simplicity touches me deeply.

This forest unites. The living with death. Grief with consolation. The simple with the highest. A place where I feel like a whole person.

Author: Michael Gleich