“TRUST an unknown future with a known God,” urges the sign in front of the Sangre de Cristo Christian Church on the outskirts of Crestone, Colo., which is close to a four-hour drive south of Denver off Highway 17. The town might seem to be in the middle of nowhere, but if you’re seeking a taste of the divine, you’ve probably come to the right place.
At 8,000 feet on the edge of the desert plains of the San Luis Valley beneath the Sangre de Cristo Range, this town and its environs have about 1,500 residents and two dozen different religious centers, including a cluster of Buddhist monasteries, a Catholic monastery, a Taoist retreat, a Hindu ashram, a Shumei center and several American Indian sanctuaries. This forested hillside haven, nestled on an enormous aquifer below the 14,000-foot Crestone Peaks, has long been considered sacred.
“The Navajo and Hopi think of this as holy ground,” said John Milton, a naturalist who runs shamanic Indian workshops on the serene 210-acre Sacred Land Trust along North Crestone Creek. “Elders from the community still come here to worship.”
It’s certainly an interesting place and even more eclectic than the story makes it sound. I spent a week with my class at the Catholic Monastery there when I was in college taking a course on Christian spiritual traditions. It’s one of my favorite towns in Colorado.
Speaking as a member of Colorado’s most oppressed minority, The Third Generation Native Born, we view these places and persons with contempt and dislike. They are populated with malefactors of great wealth, who acquire huge tracts of land, and promptly lock us out of our ancient hunting and fishing grounds. They eagerly spread the infection of non-christian cultic religions while denigrating our fundamental Scripture based Christianity. You see what they have done to the Diocese of Colorado, formerly one of the most orthodox Episcopal Dioceses in the nation. It is doubly distressing that they infest some of the country’s most magnificent real estate. We wish they were gone, all of them. However, like termites, it is hard to get rid of them. Oh, and I have some wonderful true stories about these freaks and their relationship with the local tribes, especially the Southern Utes. Utes have a really great Phoney Radar, and take outrageously funny advantage of them on occasions. Like when one of the geeks hired a Ute Medicine Man to bless their new acquisition (paid for by California psycho cash). Except he wasn’t a shaman. Just a civil chief. Got a fee of 2 grand for dancing around in the drain field of the septic tank. See, the geek thought it was a place of great fertility since the grass was always greener there. Later, The Chief stood for about 20 rounds at that bar at the Wye. After he changed moccasins. True story. I was there.
We are courteous towards them, because it is part of our code. Don’t confuse courtesy with respect or affection.