If you’ve visited this blog much, you’ve probably figured out that I am unafraid of sharing my views on various aspects of religion, including churchgoing, marriage, spirituality, and pets in heaven.

And that’s last just in the last few months. Wow, not really trying to carve out a niche as an Internet theologian.

Anyway, I paid a visit to one of my favorite cathedrals last Sunday: a wooded draw, complete with fallen logs as pews and a flowing fount of life-giving, soothing-sounding water in the form of a mountain stream.

I call it the First Church of the Ravine.

The church is tucked into a corner of the Coast Range foothills a handful of miles from my home — about half the miles are traverseable via pickup, the other half on foot. It’s far enough off the beaten path that no one has yet wandered into the FCR and interrupted my solitude.

Our solitude, I should say, since I have a fellow congregant, my Australian shepherd Jewel. Whereas I’d probably draw some strange looks if I brought her with me to a “regular” church, outside of one of those Blessing of the Animals services anyway, she’s perfectly welcome in the ravine.

As we sit, we discuss all sorts of matters related to God, spirituality and philosophy as we listen to the unnamed stream make its way splashingly toward the Luckiamute River; yes, I do talk to my dog, as a matter of fact, all the time.

And as per ravine protocol, we occasionally have a beer while sitting on our log pew and pondering the universe (well, I do anyway). Or maybe even a swig or two of Jack Daniel’s; alcohol is not inherently sinful.

Like I’ve said before, I have nothing against regular churches or those who attend them, provided they conduct their lives in such a way that they don’t come off as colossal phonies. And I quite likely will be a regular church attendee again someday — at least, I certainly am not ruling it out.

But for now, I’m pretty content to call the ravine my home church and visit it as often as I like.