I come to this challenge in two parts at 1:10 pm, the first part being the savasana about two hours ago. In my ideal world, I would do the savasana and immediately write my 800+ words in response but alas, that wasn’t to happen today and I think part of this lesson is “perfect isn’t always perfect” which is something I know and a reminder never, ever hurts, does it?
So – to start where I am, or where I was when I sat up following my savasana:
When I stopped the savasana yesterday, I had been on a bit of a journey as I followed my breath in and out. I followed my breath in images, images attempting to get to that “sacred, holy space” I was directed to be within. Well, I was curious and a bit perturbed at first when the sacred, holy space I found myself in was watching my feet on the slate covered sidewalks of my early childhood. Foot up, foot down, walking. I was apparently on my way to kindergarten since once first grade rolled around, I always had a walking companion.
For whatever reason I can’t comprehend, in kindergarten I walked alone. My siblings were somewhere on the same path toward the same school or a school not too distant, but for whatever reason, my five-and-six-year-old self forged the two long block path on my own.
Actually, the sidewalk I saw in my savasana was a short block, between Maolis and Adams, on my side of Hawthorne Avenue it was a continuous block, but the sidewalk I saw, the sidewalk I walked along, was on the other side, the “not my side” side.
During savasana I could even feel the up-and-down of the slate, I could even feel the variation of pressure from pushing upward tree roots. They were willy nilly, the roots. Pleased to just be walked upon is what comes.
When I was in my 15 minutes of yoga, I didn’t wander away or wonder, “What is up with me walking on childhood sidewalks? This doesn’t feel like a sacred space at all!” It wasn’t until later my forehead crinkled into the question, “What is up with my sacred space not being a fancy cathedral or a waterfall or some exotic location in India? Why did the sacred space that appeared before me appear as a broken, off-kilter, oft walked upon side walk, all willy nilly and hither and yon.
The sidewalk as it was then probably doesn’t exist anymore, forty years later.
I got this clear message: the sacred space is wherever my sole lands. Wherever the bottom of my foot hits land, that is sacred. It isn’t in the fancy stuff we lay atop it, it is in the actual movement. It is in the touching of the soil or the path and me, willingly moving through it and in it that made it holy.
(My eyes gaze to my word count. A mere 496 words. A part of me wants to stop here and move onto some of my other topics today, but the part of me which is wisest says, “Stay with sacred, holy spaces. Stay grounded in that. Stay. Stay. Stay.”
So be it, otherwise known as “AMEN!” I will stay centered in the sacred places. The wherever the soles of my feet land, that is the holy place where I am to live and give, freely.
A sacred space is the crook of my arm, when Samuel nestled into it today.
A sacred space is created in my virtual writing classes, in the non-space space there. It is sacred, it is holy.
A sacred space is here – listening to radio swiss classic, my writing sanctuary which may be far from perfect but it is where my writing, my reaching out to you and him and her and them – - it is where that happens so that, my love, is sacred.
There are some sacred spaces I love to visit, as well.
Places like Sequoia and Dana Point and Canyon de Shelley – the last I haven’t been in more than twenty years. I need to go back, soon. I wonder, sometimes, how it would be to write there, without people with small hands and large voices shouting at me to stay…. please, stay.
Which brings me to the sacred place of presence: another place that is too big for geography. What is a sacred place if not felt in the soul, heard in the heartbeat, cherished in both the giving and receiving? A sacred place is wherever I pick the sole of my foot up and put it down.
A sacred place is wherever I pick the sole of my foot up and put it down.
A sacred place is wherever I pick the sole of my foot up and put it down.
A sacred place is wherever I pick the sole of my foot up and put it down.
It is the journey and it is the destination. It is in this moment and that moment.
And with that, see I am well over the 800 Words. Two days in a row.
Sing praises.
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