by Beth Haley
The Church of Prince William’s Parish, known as Sheldon, was built in the 1740s. It has been burnt twice. First, by the British army in 1779, and again by the Federal army in 1865.
What you notice first from the road are the pillars.
They draw you in for a closer look.
As I entered the grounds, I felt like I was stepping back in time, and that if something could be said at all, it should be done in a hushed tone.
There is an intriguing play between light and shadow filtering through skeletal remains, ancient branches, and fluttering leaves.
Graves dating back to the 1700s have survived the years despite being vandalized.
Sheldon was built on the plantation of the royal governor of South Carolina (1737-38), Col. William Bull, and this altar still remains along with the marker for his grave.
Sometimes, when you least expect it, a specific moment and space opens up and renders itself so well to an opening of the senses that it is undeniably the right time and right place to step away.
What do you see?
What do you feel?
What do you hear?
What do you taste?
What do you smell?
I want to say I’m grounded in this moment.
And I am. And yet…
…if one can taste time and age, then I have also stepped into the past where what has been, and what is now, is like the dance between light and shadow: it tastes both bitter and sweet at the same time.
To mindful moments…
If a favorite moment in your day had a flavor, what would it taste like?