I recently visited Muir Woods in California, one of the most stunningly beautiful, powerful and sacred spots on earth. As I walked along a clear stream bordered by towering redwoods, my mind, body, and heart immediately aligned and came into relationship with some potent life-giving force. The ancient Celts speak about "thin places" where the distance between us and all of life narrows and we feel more full, whole, and complete. The redwood's effect on me was so deeply nourishing that it made me aware of how important sacred places are to my state of consciousness and physical and emotional well being.
In speaking with members of the Powers of Place Initiative who are practitioners of the art of creating sacred space, I learned that it's possible to bring sacred space forward in ordinary places by adopting the following simple principles and orientations.
Sacred spaces exist everywhere
Although it's often easiest to experience the sacred in beautiful settings such as Muir Woods, the sacred actually exists in all places and things. It's our belief that it only exists in certain places or that it only looks a certain way that keeps us from seeing it everywhere. By training ourselves to not just look for but expect to find the sacred in unexpected places, we can begin to experience it everywhere...on a solitary bench at a local park, at the corner table in a local caf�, or with fifty thousand cheering fans at a Friday night baseball game. Sacred spaces exist everywhere.
Sacred space isn't created, it's revealed
Because the sacred exists everywhere, finding it has more to do with recognizing it versus doing something to "make" a place sacred. A Google search on "sacred space" reveals dozens of sites describing the "seven easy steps" to creating sacred space in our homes (clear the clutter, light a candle, burn incense, say a prayer etc.). I've tried these things and they do indeed make a difference, but more because they help shift our psychological orientation versus changing the actual physical or psychic space. "It's really a shift in us that has to take place in order for the sacred to come forward," says Renee Levi who directs research for the Powers of Place Initiative. In other words, lighting candles and saying prayers won't work unless we bring an openness to being influenced and an honest desire to connect with a place and see it's sacred nature. Sacred space isn't created, it's revealed.
Sacred space is revealed through relationship The working hypothesis of the Powers of Place Initiative is that sacred space is revealed "when people and places are in right relationship with each other." This involves our relating to a place as a "living entity" that we're in partnership with, not a "thing" to enjoy or benefit from or even to protect. Philosopher Martin Buber made a distinction between "I-It relationships" (where someone objectifies another as an "it") and "I-thou relationships" (where both parties recognize the sacredness of the other as a "thou"). Human atrocities occur when one person or group puts themselves above another and objectify the other as a means to an end. Engaging in an "I-Thou partnership" with a place means approaching that place as an equal partner in a journey, not just as a means to an end. Like any relationship of equals, we expect that our relationship with place will unfold naturally over time like a friendship. It will involve a type of reciprocity where we and the place co-evolve and grow as a result of the relationship; where we begin to inhabit and feel at home in the place as it begins to inhabit and feel at home in us.
Maggie Moore Alexander, an organizational consultant and Powers of Place Initiative Thinking Partner, tells the story of how she moved to a rural farm in England and experienced its sacred nature by building a simple bird feeder--- "with the place." "When I first stepped onto the land," she says, "I knew that I belonged there. I'd never been on a farm and didn't know anything about gardening. The place was terribly overgrown and hadn't been attended to in a very long time. I didn't do anything in the garden right away, but spent a lot of time outside getting to know the place."
"One day I placed a birdfeeder on the climbing rose bush just outside the kitchen window. Small birds began to come, so I added another. I was delighted by the small birds, and learned their names and habits. But I noticed that bigger birds weren't coming. To attract them, I tried of few different feeders, but none of them worked. I then got an image in my mind's eye of a bird-feeding table, a little further from the window, where I could place nuts that might attract the big birds. I located what felt like the right place, and then took a wheelbarrow around the farm collecting materials that might make my image come to life. I found everything I needed, including the perfect piece of slate for the tabletop." Moore sat on the ground with the materials and began building what she'd imagined, adjusting and changing it as it took shape in the place until it felt right. The next day the first of what would eventually become a group of 20 pheasants arrived. "Today more than 25 kinds of birds come to the little aviary throughout the year," says Moore, "including an old pheasant we call "grandpa." The feeding table is a simple thing that cost me nothing, but the life, wonder and joy it's brought into our lives every day is amazing . Its abundance is still a delightful surprise."
Moore tells her story in a similar way to how she might describe meeting and getting to know a good friend. She begins her story, not by focusing on something that she wanted from the land (an "it") such as a bird feeder or a desire for sacred space. She began by describing the farm as a "thou," a place where she felt an immediate sense of belonging. Like most new relationships, Moore started with little or no agenda. She simply spent time on the land learning the names of the birds. She explains that building the bird feeder wasn't so much about the bird feeder as it was a way of engaging with and better coming to know the place.
Moore points to dozens of other "experiments" that she's working on in partnership with her farm. Some are large projects like the renovation of her husband's studio. Others are smaller activities, such as moving perennial plants around the garden to find where they do best. As Moore speaks about her projects, it's clear that she's following a similar "process of discovery" with each experiment that corresponds to the processes followed by other members of the Powers of Place Initiative. That process includes the following three elements: intention, action, and attention/intuition.
Intention
After an initial process of getting to know the land, Moore says that her activity with the place required a clear intention or goal. In this case, her intention was to build a bird feeder that would attract the bigger birds. In speaking about intention, Moore is quick to point out that "there's an important difference between following your imagination and following your ego to put your mark on a place." Creating something sacred requires an intention that reaches beyond merely what our ego wants to create for ourselves to include the characteristics and/or interests of the place in a reciprocal process. Moore's husband, world renowned architect Christopher Alexander, says that places have unique characteristics such as shade, sunlight, views, quiet, spaciousness, openness etc.. An architect's goal is to recognize what is precious and preserve and even extend those characteristics to create something that is "whole," (not separate from, but rather grown out of the environment). "The deeper intent of all my projects," says Moore, "is to look for and rely on wholeness. That's how I evaluate things. What is the wholeness of this place, and what will I do to extend that wholeness?"
Action
"If you want a relationship with a place," says Moore, "make something with your hands in this way. Building something physical, gives you immediate feedback. The physical manifestation of what's in your mind's eye tells you right away that it fits, or doesn't. Initially it's in your imagination, but it's not until you actually start to work that you have a relationship." This action component to sacred space doesn't have to require heavy lifting. It can involve creating something very simple such as building a shrine or performing a ritual. The important thing is to engage in some tangible action. "For those of us who've been engaging in primarily a spiritual way with place," says Moore, "we need to ask, what does it mean to engage physically with something? When I engage physically, I create and build and give myself to the activity. When I do this, I discover that something quite extraordinary happens. The thing that I'm working on gives back to me. I become bonded to the thing that I've created and it begins feeding me, and even healing me." As Moore's husband, Christopher Alexander, has said, the process of "making heals the maker.""
Attention/ Intuition
Most successful partnerships between two people typically involve a lot of talk. Unfortunately, unless we have psychic abilities, we can't typically talk to a place as we would a person. We need to develop other capacities of deep listening and intuition. "Listen and pay close attention to the place," says Moore, "and gradually over time what comes forward is a sense of the place. It will lead you. It might not be totally obvious at first, but take the step that is right in front of you, listen, and you will feel opportunities open up. Once you begin this process, it will pull you along and you'll know intuitively what's right for the place and for what you want to do. Things will just begin to feel right."
To look at another example of how to create sacred space, Normand Ren� Poulin is a "sacred space consultant" who uses the ancient Chinese art of feng shui along with other practices to bring greater harmony and life to people's homes and workplaces. "I came to my profession by accident," he says. "I was a minister working with dying patients in hospice settings. In the process of hearing people's life stories, they'd often show me photos or objects... life souvenirs. We'd begin by placing the objects around their rooms. The objects often facilitated important conversations with their friends and family--- expressions of love and sometimes regret---completions. Time and time again I noticed that their rooms, which were sometimes cold and impersonal, would become warmer and more authentically personal...and sacred. When people have a limited time left, everything becomes more pronounced. It seemed ironic to me that just when people were trying to relinquish their attachment to life, they were also discovering sometimes for the first time just how important and sacred everyday living can be. Part of my intention with my current work is to help create sacred spaces for people before they find themselves at death's door."
As Poulin talks more specifically about his practice, the key elements of his process appear almost identical to those outlined by Maggie Moore (intention, action, and attention/intuition).
"It begins with (intentionality)," says Poulin. "I ask, how do I want this space to support me? Sometimes I want a place for rest and to be surrounded by lots of personal things that bring me comfort. Other times, I want to think clearly and to strategize which requires something different. When I travel and find myself staying at a hotel, I want the place to be restful. Creating sacred space in such environments can take just five minutes. I'll bring my favorite CDs, put pictures around the room, and make a bath with oils from home. These (actions) create a centering effect, like dropping a stone in a pond. The effects ripple out through the rest of the space and provide a sense of grounding and familiarity in an unfamiliar place. Every place is different, so the things that I do are never cookie cutter. I engage in a conversation with each space that I occupy. The space will dictate (attention/intuition) where things are to be placed and what I'm to do. The best places are the ones that are co-created. Sacred space can be created anywhere."
During my recent vacation in California where I'd visited Muir Woods, I also collected a bunch of beautiful stones along the Pacific Ocean. Just a few days ago, after speaking with Normand Poulin and Maggie Moore Alexander, I conducted a simple experiment. I brought the stones outside my front door and constructed a simple shrine with a large speckled brown stone on the bottom, a medium-sized white rock in the middle and a small black rock on top. I examined a number of places where the shrine might be placed, but eventually it seemed to fit most naturally just to the right of my front door. Yes, that felt right. I sat in silence for a time and said a prayer. I prayed that I might experience the power and sacredness of this place (my home) much as I'd experienced it at Muir Woods and during my walk by the Pacific Ocean. I prayed that these stones might continually remind me of that sacredness each time I entered and left my home.
Last night as I was walking up my front steps, I caught sight of the tiny pile of stones, after having almost forgotten that they were there. Although it was nearly dark, they seemed to be glowing. I stopped for a moment to absorb the sight. I was reminded of words by Walt Whitman, "O you robust, sacred!...not in another place, but this place-not for another hour, but this hour." Ordinary places can indeed become sacred places.
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Perspectives, Issue No. 1
Powers of Place Correspondent: Tom Callanan
February 2011
