Bring the Sacred

“In conscious awareness of breath, we touch on the sacred.  If we really truly become confused, fearful, lonely, anxious, come back to the breath. Recognize what you are and you won’t be alone.”   Tommy Rosen from Recovery 2.0

The picture above is the beginnings of an altar that I’ve placed in the entryway of our house.  I didn’t grow up with any type of religion or even an expressed spirituality. This used to make me feel empty and a little confused. Other times I felt relieved or superior to others. But I’ve come to accept this as neither good nor bad, it just is.  Following the sudden death of my brother, who is grilling chicken on the BBQ in the picture on the table, I’ve sought out spiritual practices that make sense to me. I’ve done meditations and visualizations and watched dozens of videos about spirituality, yoga, recovery, and creating a spiritual practice. I find church or temple in the Redwoods or at the ocean, but also just when I take the time to stop, pause, take a breath and marvel at the astounding fact that we are living, breathing, conscious beings in this world.

And this is a world in crisis. It’s a world that needs us to truly and more mindfully give more of a shit, show some gratitude and also take some action. This table near the door of my home is my next step towards giving more of a shit, being grateful and also taking more action.

My brother and my grandmother were powerful forces in my life. They were gone from my life less than one year of each other. I have learned so much along the winding and bumpy path of grief and one is that we never lose connection with our beloved ones when they die.  My brother is still cooking that chicken with me. My grandmother is still dressed in salmon and standing tall next to me. It feels good to take these steps towards more consciously integrating them into my life. It’s counterintuitive but as I bring them closer into my daily life, I feel a sense of relief. I can also let them go or rather come and go as they please. There’s a freedom in that.

I also put a picture out of my mother-in-law with her first husband Don. My mother-in-law was a loving mother and grandmother with a comical disposition that resembled Marge Simpson, sans blue hair. Don was a quiet, kind presence who taught his stepson how to fish.

I already know that I want to refine this space. A lower table would be nice. Maybe a different cloth.  I want more flowers, a few trinkets or shells that are meaningful to these beloved souls.   I’m looking forward to coming to this altar for some type of contemplative practice, which more and more feels necessary for me in this chaotic world.