crown of violets

My most relaxed moments are when I’m in the bath. It’s a space where I can be completely open and receptive, allowing the water to rejuvenate me. The first few minutes of being completely open is a shock to my system. To help it along, I normally make the water a little too hot, just enough to jolt me into my sensual self, relaxing into the warmth. By soothing my senses, I relax and naturally begin to let go. I am receptive and open in a way that goes beyond my normal daily awareness. I feel a connection that extends beyond my body and the water surrounding me. I work through memories of the recent days in a dreamlike state and notice that creative ideas and pieces of stories come to me, as I let myself be nurtured by time alone.

As creative creatures, one of our greatest gifts is that which exists between the space of the mind and heart, the essence that we call our spirit or soul. It is unique and what gives passion to our work. Like a well, this vessel for our emotions and creativity can be drained and even depleted if not cared for. When a plant goes too long without water, it takes some time for the roots to open up and be able to absorb it again. Too long without pleasure or freedom and we are a bit unsure how to handle it. Like water, we must allow this essence to flow by becoming receptive and embracing. Like water, it cannot be held tight by a fist, only cupped in an open palm.

This isn’t easy at first. Strong emotions, unbidden, can come boiling to the surface. Anger, sadness, fear from old wounds… as quick and hot and powerful as the first times we felt them. They are what lay beneath a daily calm, the fears and hurts that we’ve ignored to silence, a storm we’ve never truly weathered. Part of what makes this re-emergence so painful is the place we have to sit in when we revisit them. Every time we revisit an old trauma, we respond to it as strongly as the first time. If we aren’t strong enough, we end up not only re-experiencing the hurt but also adding pain on top of it. We compound it. Even if we are strong enough, we have to sit with ourselves as we were then, an emotional ghost called by the old pain.

At first, we seem to carry none of the strength or grace we may have built since the experience. We sit with something we may never have accepted in ourselves, certainly never loved. But this ghost is as undeniable as anything about our current existence. Fear and anger and hurt feed on inner denial. We wrestle with it, struggling to beat it into a more pleasing shape. We are compelled to look away, when we should in fact be facing it head on.

We are as unique in our pain as our beauty. It’s rather ingenious. Our pain normally originates from dancing with a demon of fear and is specifically tailored to make each of us squirm. It becomes an intrinsic part of our identity and growth. We can become very attached to it if we’re not careful. We like to think of pain in terms of levels and this comparative understanding tends to put us at odds with ourselves and each other. A friend recently expressed to me that no one’s pain is greater or lesser, only different. We discussed different ways individuals tried to show each other their pain (her using funny voices, me laughing). I’d been spending some time with my own little fear demon that brought me back to a very uncomfortable place of pain. Pain that made me want to close off and at the same time shout “Look how I’ve been hurt! See my pain!” This little fear demon thinking comes from a childlike tendency to want to get rid of pain by passing it on to others or by trying to having them soothe it. Instead, we must understand that we are the only ones who can heal our pain. We must allow ourselves to open become open, receptive, and embracing, or wither away from lack of nourishment. Our greatest ally in this is something that neither turns away nor holds any judgment. We can call on a spirit of compassion, a spirit of love to hold us. This compassion asks nothing more of us than to sit with our pain, as uncomfortable as that first moment may be. After all, our pain defines us as much as our beauty.

Pain isn’t the only the only feeling we try to control by closing off. Pleasure can be as strong as pain, and if we’re not used to it, we can draw back from it just as violently. We aren’t sure what we’re feeling, only that it’s intense, and that intense feeling makes us want to draw away from it. Like pain, the only way through it is to relax, to enjoy, and to let ourselves become receptive to what we’re feeling. This is also how we learn to have pleasurable sex.

In becoming receptive and embracing, we learn to let the tide ebb and flow, let the water carry away what no longer suits us and bring new curiosities and discoveries. We invite the new and mysterious into our lives and relax into the world opening before us. We learn to cultivate, instead of dominate, and work with our own cycles of pleasure, pain, and other emotions to create an adventure that challenges and nourishes us.

Cyprus Aphrodite Birthplace Sunrise
Originally uploaded by springtide9

“What is a teacher? I’ll tell you: it isn’t someone who teaches something, but someone who inspires the student to give of her best in order to discover what she already knows.” ~ Paulo Coelho (The Witch of Portobello)

A temple is a sacred space dedicated to sharing the teachings of a specific deity. It can also be a place of public worship, though I’m not much for distancing aspect of worship. To carry a temple means to carry a sacred space where teachings you’ve been given can be shared with others. It expresses acceptance of the teacher in all of us and a willingness to return the generosity shown to us by the divine.

There are many ways to carry a temple. A temple can be as elaborate or simple as you like. You can have an urban temple, an outdoor temple, you can have both. For some people, the altar makes the temple. For others, their body is their temple. My teachings reflect a temple dedicated to sensuality, pleasure and creativity, but also delight, enchantment, and adventure. Anywhere those energies exist can be viewed as sacred and I try to express them daily, through my thoughts, actions, and celebrations. Because I walk with a spirit that celebrates the inner divine, most of my personal temple practices don’t seem to need much more than my loving attention. I believe that my senses are meant to celebrate my physical universe and find the pleasure in daily things. My life is my dedication.

Even so, I feel like to grow further I’ll need to create a temple space for my companion work. It’s important because I’ll learn to create a physical space that will nourish the inner space to flourish. It will need to be a nourishing space where we can find harmony between the physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual selves. It needs to be easily accessible from both my home and gardens, as well as reasonably accessible to any travel routes. My city celebrates a lot of festivals and cultural events that I would love to explore more. We have winters that can turn harsh so I’ll need to be close to both food and drink and any other supplies I or a guest might need. There will also have to be plenty of plants. Celebrating what I want to explore will probably be the most fun about creating this space. It’ll have to be a space where art, creativity, pleasure, sensuality, and a fair amount of plants come together. It not only has to have space for everything I like to do, but space for what guests like as well. It needs privacy, warmth, and lots of opportunity for play.

Creating a temple space opens me to a more interactive experience with the spirits I feel affinity with. It is place for them to draw strength from. Like a home, a sacred space fills us with warmth and love. It feeds the little golden flame we carry inside, warming us wherever we go.

Sacred spaces are spaces dedicated to the divine, spaces where we let our love shine. In sacred spaces, we gather and hold rituals of celebration, living and loving and giving of ourselves. We part, taking a piece of that sacred space with us, only richer and never poorer.

The most obvious examples we have of sacred space are temples and churches. Given my history, and how I view the divine, I’m more inclined to temples and natural spaces, but a sacred space in really anywhere where we invite ourselves to be touched by wonder, mystery, and enchantment.

One of the ways I’m learning to invite sacred space into my daily life is to accept that they can be any place at any time. My city is full of parks, doorways, gates, different types of energy centers. There are many churches, social clubs, and meeting places. All of these places can be sacred. My body is a sacred space, my room is a sacred space, my mind is a sacred space. This website can be a sacred space. It’s where I take what I’m being given by the world around me and pass it along. Like all energy centers, sacred spaces can flow in a creative, harmonizing way, or get blocked. They can work as part of a harmonious whole or drawn in power from a source and suck it up, drawing it in and letting it sit stagnant. Inviting love and creation into this space allows me to be sure I’m aligning it correctly. It can become an energy center for good, for communication, for sharing ideas. My hand shapes how this website affects the people it comes across. A website itself is a neutral tool until the creator directs it to suit their will and purpose.

Part of understanding sacred spaces is opening myself to the responsibility of them. When I go out into the world, my energy spreads to everything I encounter. When I chose consciously to share love, beauty, and wonder – that spreads to the people I encounter and colours the energy they feel from me. Love and beauty spread and I have to acknowledge my spiritual, sacred self in my daily life. As I allow that energy to flow, I in essence become a sacred space, one where I am saying yes to my role as both a teacher and student, a channel for divine energy, for love.