Early this past Monday morning, I set out for a short round of golf. When I play on my own I use it as a form of walking meditation.
I went to ”Twin Lakes,” a modest 9-hole course five minutes from my house. Some private country clubs in Santa Barbara charge $250,000 to join and $1,000/monthly dues; Twin Lakes has no joining fee and I pay $59/month. Of course, it’s not quite the same feel. Where some local courses are set alongside coastal bluffs with stunning views of the Pacific Ocean, Twin Lakes is bounded by a tire store, a lumber yard, a drainage ditch, and railroad tracks. That may be why you do not see photos of Twin Lakes on Santa Barbara tourism websites.
However, wherever we are, there can be wonders to behold.
The 8th hole is bounded on the north by a rickety fence running parallel to the train tracks. As I was walking down the fairway, I sensed something bright to my left. I turned to see what it was. I was surprised to see the moist leaf of a nasturtium plant reflecting the morning sun more brightly than I have ever witnessed. Like Moses at the burning bush, I turned aside to look more closely. I’ve always admired nasturtiums for their flowers, but had never appreciated how a leaf can hold and reflect sunlight like this one.
As I stood there, an ancient word came to mind: “veriditas.” This Latin word was a favorite of Hildegard of Bingen, the 12TH century abbess, mystic, prophet, philosopher, composer, and expert in the medical practices of her time. In her last major writing, “Book of Divine Works,” she begins with a vision of divine love wearing a robe as bright as the sun, speaking with the voice of nature:
“I am the supreme and fiery force who sets all living sparks alight and breathes forth no mortal things, but judges them as they are.
Circling above the circumscribing circle with my superior wings, which is to say circling with wisdom, I have ordered the cosmos rightly.
But I am also the fiery life of divine essence: I blaze above the beauty of the fields, I shine in the waters, I burn in the sun and the moon and the stars. And with the airy wind I quicken all things to life, as with an invisible life that sustains them all.
For the air lives in viriditas and in the flowers, and the waters flow as if alive, and the sun lives within its own light, and when the moon has waned it is rekindled by the light of the sun and thereby lives anew, and the stars shine forth in their own light as though alive.
Exploring how “viriditas” is being newly appreciated in our time, I came across a reference to a 2003 dissertation by physician Victoria Sweet in the History of Health Sciences Department at UCSF:
“… Sweet draws special attention to Hildegard’s use of the word viriditas. It comes from the Latin word for “green,” and was used to refer to the color of plants, as well as meaning “vigor” and “youthfulness.” Sweet points out how Hildegard also used the word viriditas in the broader sense of the power of plants to put forth leaves and fruit, and the analogous intrinsic power of human beings to grow and to heal. Inspired by Hildegard, Sweet began to ask herself as she was treating her patients whether anything was interfering with the viriditas or the intrinsic power to heal—to relate to healing like being a gardener who removes impediments and nourishes, in a sanctuary-like setting.
All this may seem a long way from the illuminated nasturtium leaf that stopped me in my tracks on the 8th hole at Twin Lakes. But it’s not. What I saw was a glimpse of the viriditas that permeates and surrounds us, an inner force we share. “Veriditas” — it’s a great word — take it with you as you go through your day.
Steve Jacobsen, Ed.D 