
This Sunday's reading was the Transfiguration of Jesus.  In the Coffee Hour discussion after worship, the discussion turned to "mountain top experiences".  Some thoughts that emerged:
- this is a feeling not a place
- nature brings us closer to God: that's where the "thinness" between us and God happens
- some of us live only in the valley
Today's Meditation from Richard Rohr (you can subscribe) touched on this as well.  He writes:
Nature itself was the first Bible.   Before there was the written Bible, there was the Bible in things that are   made. This creation starts with being very good (Genesis 1:31). We come to   God through things as they are; spirituality is about sinking back into the   Source of everything. We’re already there, but we have too little practice   seeing ourselves there. God, in Christ, is in all, and through all, and with   all (see 1 Corinthians 15:28; Colossians 3:11). We call this the Universal   Christ or another name for every thing—in its fullness.
A spirituality of the Universal Christ is at the same   time a creation spirituality. It allows you to start seeing your own soul   imaged and given back to you in the soul of everything else. All of creation   has soul! The Latin word for soul is anima, which became animal in English. This earth is participating in the mystery of redemption,   liberation, and salvation. The whole creation is groaning in one great act of   giving birth (see Romans 8:22). The whole thing is being reborn,   re-covenanted, and realigned. Instead of seeing natural things as merely   objects to be used, we must allow nature to enchant us.
This week [the meditations] will be featuring authors of color, people   who, like Jesus, see God in everything. Howard Thurman (1900–1981),   the Black mystic, theologian, and spiritual guide for Martin Luther King, Jr.   and the Civil Rights Movement, shares his early experiences of God: 
The true purpose of all spiritual disciplines is to   clear away whatever may block our awareness of that which is God in us. . . 
It will be in order to suggest certain simple   aids to this end. One of these is the practice of silence, or quiet. As a   child I was accustomed to spend many hours alone in my rowboat,   fishing along the river, when there was no sound save the lapping of the   waves against the boat. There were times when it seemed as if the earth and   the river and the sky and I were one beat of the same pulse. It was a time of   watching and waiting for what I did not know—yet I always knew. There would   come a moment when beyond the single pulse beat there was a sense of Presence   which seemed always to speak to me. My response to the sense of Presence   always had the quality of personal communion. There was no voice. There was   no image. There was no vision. There was God. [1] 
As G. K. Chesterton observed, “A religion is not   the church [one] goes to, but the cosmos [one] lives in.” [2] Once we know that the   entire physical world around us, all of creation, is both the hiding place   and the revelation place for God, this world becomes home, safe, enchanted,   offering grace to any who look deeply. I call that kind of deep and calm   seeing “contemplation.”
[1] Howard Thurman, Disciplines of the Spirit (Harper and Row: 1963), 96.  
[2] G. K. Chesterton, Irish Impressions (John Lane Company: 1919), 215.