As I amble forward, a musty aroma tickles my nose. The smell is none other than the scent of freshly plowed ground; it is the perfume of the cattle, the brisk odor that consumes the farmer, the humble man who works this land tirelessly from dawn to dusk. A warm breeze pushes the amber stalks against my legs gently, and I reach my hand out to feel the dry wheat that will soon be harvested. This pasture is a modest temple of the Lord, a place of wholesome love without social boundaries, animosity, and immorality. Untainted by the evils of human life, I feel assured and powerful.

In the distance a deep mooing echoes off of the surrounding foliage of the lush green trees just beyond the rusted fence made of barbed wire. The cattle is the color of the night, deep ebony with a lustrous cobalt glow. His brawny frame is dense and immovable, a stubborn body, but he is tame and gentle. His tail sways back and forth, a wicked omen for the delicate flies resting upon the dramatic hip bones of his behind. Behind him is a rustic building, built of wood and painted ivory white. Two wide doors open up to the field, and inside the verdant shine of a John Deer tractor is faintly visible. The quaint barn is sheltered by the loving limbs of an old oak tree, three stories high.

Suddenly the loud booming of an airplane overhead grabs my attention and I tilt my chin up at the endless sky, which seems to extend forever. The plane flies through a cotton ball cloud disappears for just a moment before magically reappearing directly in front of another. I turn my gaze back to the cattle, and see that they are undisturbed by the thunderous noises overhead. They continue to munch on the jade blades of grass, and grunt with pure pleasure.

Crunch.

The crispy wheat stalks beneath me splinter and fall to the ground as if they were skyscrapers of New York City, dramatically knocked over by a colossal blow. I kneel down slowly to pick up the tiny grains of the head and drop them one by one into my mouth. Biting down hard on their tough shells, I break through to the core of the seeds. They taste bitter like a pecan nut straight from the shell. It’s a most unpleasant taste, but their earthiness makes one feel like one with the earth.

The field is my rugged pathway to God, filled with wheat stalks that signify every task I must complete before moving ahead. The guiltless and loving cattle are my mentors along the way, and the barn is the kingdom of heaven. The farmer inside is God, the creator of all things; he is a humble and wise man who cares for all his animals. In this field I feel strength envelope me; it signifies my journey in life and for a moment I am content. I am surrounded by pure nature; the simplest and most innocent of God’s heavenly creation. This pasture is a modest temple of the Lord, a place of wholesome love without social boundaries, animosity, and immorality. Untainted by the evils of urban society, I’m able to contemplate all that is about my life.