I am circling around God, around the ancient tower, I have been circling for a thousand years and, I still don’t know if I am a falcon, or a storm, or a great song. ~Rilke
Jewel the German Shepherd and I just returned from a short walk. While we walked a well trod local trail, I wondered “where is my sacro speco, my sacred space?” I have no cave to hide in or woods to wander alone nor pond to gaze on. Like home, my sacred space must be an interior place – in my heart, and mind.
“… I do believe it is possible to create, even without ever writing a word or painting a picture, by simply moulding one’s inner life. And that too is a deed.” —Etty Hillesum, An Interrupted Life, p. 87, Parabola Magazine.
Someone said to me the other day “you have always landed on your feet.” I’ve never been good at asking. I’ve been more apt to act then suffer the consequences or act and then apologize later if necessary. I’ve usually charged in and done things my way, led my way, taught my way and made it up as I went along. Sometimes others noticed I was not wearing clothes which is how I’m feeling right now. Naked, unsure, and a little bit crazy.
In one of my Creation Spirituality classes I claimed to colleagues that I’m an introvert. They laughed. One of my best teachers, John Parente, OMB, a water color artist who teaches that when we paint (or enter into any other creative act) we expose our soul, responded “she’s a noisy introvert.” What? we asked. “Someone who knows the mystery and shows it” he replied.
I learned many years ago to name my current reality before I could create my vision. I am spending time each day in contemplation – meditation – reaching inward for that sacred space. I am gazing out the window a lot at the birds and squirrels and cats and neighbors as they move through their days.
I’m not sure I know the mystery, however I am willing to enter into it every day. It is where I am dwelling as I wait and search.
“Think in ways you’ve never thought before. If a phone rings, think of it as carrying a message that’s larger than anything you’ve ever heard, vaster than 100 lines of Yeats. Think that someone may bring a bear to your door. May be wounded or deranged. And think that a moose has risen out of the lake and he is carrying on his antlers a child of your own whom you’ve never seen. When someone knocks on the door, think that he’s about to give you something large, tell you you’re forgiven, or that it’s not necessary to work all the time, or that it’s been decided that if you lie down, no one will die.” ~Robert Bly to Bill Moyers. http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/08312007/transcript3.html