Sacred Space
 

    The church that I attended for most of my childhood was a modern building, rather sparsely decorated and otherwise much like my elementary school, complete with “auditorium” and halls of classrooms in the back. In other words, it was nothing special. The idea of sacred space never occurred to me until I started my scholarly study of comparative religions in earnest, reading about some of the practices in other traditions. The beauty of Muslim mosques with their intricate geometric patterns and script, the tranquility of Buddhist monasteries, and the public yet intimate Hindu and Shinto shrines, all fascinated and inspired me. I began to take interest in the sacred spaces of Christianity—the majestic architecture of Gothic cathedrals, the small churches tucked into busy city blocks, and everything in between. I also grew more aware of the natural places which held meaning for me. Although the local church had never felt like anything special, the park at the end of my block, with its creek running through a small organic garden, had always been a place of refuge as well as play. When I was 13, I spent an entire summer cataloguing all of its plants and local wildlife in a “nature journal.” As my spiritual life progressed, it made sense to try to bring my love of nature more fully into my faith, just as I had been bringing it into my poetry for years.

    Anyone who has spent a morning walking through a quiet woods, watching light filter peacefully through the canopy of leaves as the sun climbs steadily higher, can appreciate the importance of setting aside space in our busy and cluttered lives. Having a sense of sacredness located within a physical place is one of the fundamental aspects of ritual. All ritual, all religious practice, happens within a physical space because we as living human beings occupy a space that is physical as well as spiritual. We must not demean the physicality of our existence--really, it is something to be celebrated. The very fact that we are alive in these complexly working bodies, against unimaginable odds, is quite literally a miracle. It's important for us to celebrate the physical world and our physical bodies. We do this through acting in the world, understanding our bodies as tools of the Divine, ways in which the Divine can manifest. We can use ritual as a purposeful way of reminding ourselves that we have physical as well as mental aspects of our spiritual lives. And we can set aside sacred space as a way of reminding us of the sacredness of all space.

    A sacred space provides us with a place dedicated solely to spiritual practice. When we enter that space, we help ourselves grow more conscious of our work within the Divine. It doesn't mean that this sacred space is "good" and all other space is "dirty" or "bad" or "profane." Setting aside a special space just serves as a reminder of the sacredness of space in general--just like celebrating a birthday doesn't mean we think all other days are unimportant, but it helps to remind us to be thankful and glad for the whole of our lives. Having a sacred space gives us a place of safety, a place we can return to again and again, away from the judgments (and prejudices) of everyday life and culture, a place where we can do whatever we feel moved to do--whether that be singing out of tune, dancing "skyclad" (or, as I like to do, dancing on the coffee table using the remote as a microphone), or just meditating or praying free of distraction, seeking intimacy with God. Sacred space, even that which is temporarily "constructed" by casting a circle, provides us with security, intimacy and openness. If that space is natural (out in a secluded woods, or by a river or ocean, for instance), it reinforces that idea that, within this space, we should be "natural." We are ourselves when conscious of the divine presence, and we respect and celebrate the divinity that is within each of us, naturally, when we are ourselves. Even "man-made" places (indoors or outside) can serve as sacred spaces (obviously, the role of many churches, temples and monasteries). It's up to you and your personal tastes.

    There are a couple of ways that we can bring an awareness of sacred space—in particular, natural places, both wild and cultivated—into our religious lives. We can explore the world around us: the parks that have been set aside as natural havens in suburbs and cities, the landscapes of rolling farms and countrysides, even the way modern architecture often comes to echo many patterns of the wilderness. We can also make scared space by setting aside a place within our own homes, yards and gardens. In the following sections, I’ll talk a little about finding, creating and respecting the sacred spaces in our lives.

Originally posted on 03.06.05
© PLW/ALS

Outdoors

After A Storm on Good Friday

When the sun, squinting
through the billows on the western horizon,
catches the last tired drops that fall
belatedly from the branches
with the pear tree petals,
and I walk through it
as if behind stained glass,
my dress accentuating
the cold breeze that wraps my body,
I feel beautiful again.

                                -- Ali

    I composed the above poem several years ago while on a walk through my neighborhood "after a storm on Good Friday." I'd forgotten about it until searching for a good piece to begin this section. It speaks to the interesting interaction between nature and that which is "man-made." It is my body and my dress that accentuates the wind, rather than the reverse. And although I walked through a residential neighborhood, the storm that had only just passed seemed to have united the whole world in the single natural phenomenon of rain and light. There was no difference between the sidewalk, the houses, the trees and the clouds--all were beautiful, natural, and sacred.

    Sometimes it is this easy to find a sacred space out of doors. Places call out to you, invite you in. Before I began looking for a place to dedicate as my own sacred space, I already found myself drawn to certain spots. Sometimes we need to practice listening for that call, noticing that pull of familiarity and quiet joy. We're used to paying attention to a sunset as a romantic experience; we recognize a storm as a frightening experience that highlights natures raw power, and a bright meadow as the perfect backdrop for a family picnic and some afternoon play. Allowing nature to touch us requires that we let go of our distractions and take some time to relax, sit quietly and listen. When we do this regularly, we learn things from nature we never expected. Experiences and events become more than just another cliché of romance and reveal whole new levels of meaning and connection.  The ideal outdoor sacred space is one in which we can meditate for a few minutes each day, where we can walk gently and attentively, knowing we are walking with and through the Divine. These moments of communion with and revelation of God through nature are the foundation of a magical spiritual life. Sometimes it takes the discipline of many years of quieting ourselves enough to listen. And sometimes it overwhelms us and we just can't ignore it.

    Unfortunately, it's often very hard to find the right place for this type of practice, especially if you hope to perform rituals or ceremonies outside beneath the sky. Public parks may not provide the privacy or security. Ideally, you should feel comfortable being entirely open whenever you are in your sacred space, free to sing or shout or just sit quietly with some candles without interruption, stares or awkward explanations. Obviously, despite that moment of intimacy during my walk, I couldn't set up an altar and buckle down to chanting right there in front of a stranger's house! So, when looking for a sacred space outside, some compromise is often necessary. Keep in mind that personal safety may be your highest priority, along with privacy and concerns about what "feels right." You won't be able to give yourself over to your spiritual work of listening to the lessons of space and nature if you're too worried about being mugged, or defamed by gossiping neighbors. Weigh these considerations carefully, and don't rush yourself into anything. Have confidence that the Divine will make space for you as long as you make space within your heart, mind and life for the Divine. Invite God in, and She will find room enough to make Herself comfortable!

    I myself am in a situation that calls on me to compromise. For now, I have sacred spaces both inside my bedroom (I'll talk about this in the next section), and outside in a local wooded park. I visit the park often, exploring all its paths, nooks and crannies. I have come to know the places where others rarely visit, and so I often feel comfortable sitting in quiet contemplation there without worry. I also find that simple walks are themselves wonderful ways of talking with and listening to the Divine--I let God guide my feet and lead my gaze in a kind of moving meditation. Meanwhile, however, I do not do any overt ritual work in this public park, and I rarely go there after dark for safety reasons (especially since the park officially closes at sunset). I look forward to one day owning a house with a backyard, where I can garden and practice more freely out among the trees or under the stars, the way I used to play in my backyard as a child. Until then, I enjoy the sacredness of the outdoors, and I do my ritual work within a sacred space in my own home.

At Home

    As I mentioned above, I have a personal altar in my home where I do much of my ritual work. I’ll talk a little more about the role of a personal altar in the section below, but here I would just like to touch briefly on how we can make the most of indoor sacred space. Although “man-made” sacred spaces might seem less able to fulfill those same needs that I mentioned above regarding the beauty and divinity of nature, in some ways interior spaces provide us with other unique opportunities to explore and learn from our “inner landscape.”