I might have mentioned before that I’m reading Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach this year. I’ve done this a few years in the past, and it’s never failed to be a transformative year. And man, do I need this to be a transformative year.
The book is mostly a set of essays to read every day to inspire. But it’s a workbook as well, full of exercises. And if you don’t do the exercises, you’re not really getting the full effect of the book. I understand this on an intellectual level. Sometimes I don’t understand it on a practical level, though.
One of the exercises is to create a sacred space in your home. I love this idea in theory. I am way into positive affirmations and manifesting what we want in the world. I light candles and ring bells to cleanse the space in my home before I write and keep crystals around me. I balance my chakras and meditate. So, creating a sacred space in my home? Hell yes, I was down for that.
But nothing is ever as simple as ‘I want to do this.’ Intention counts for absolutely nothing unless it’s backed up by action. And I was running into three major problems.
I had no time.
I had no idea what to put in my sacred space.
I had no idea where to put it.
Problem one was the eternal problem. I needed to just make the time, that was it. I needed to decide that this was a priority and do it. This, however, was stymied by problem two and three. I had no clue what to put in this sacred space. A candle? Incense? What the hell counts as sacred?
This was again exacerbated by the fact that I had no idea where I was going to put the damn thing. If I could look at a physical space, I could envision what should go there. Of course, that would require me to take the time to find the space.
You see my dilemma.
I was thinking of this in an irritated manner one day while I was doing dishes. I’ve endeavored to see dishwashing as a meditation, as it’s one of the few meditations I can be guaranteed to get in in a day and it makes washing dishes less mind-numbingly boring. So, as I was trying to be present at the moment, I was looking at this shelf right above the sink. It’s sort of like an overly large tiled windowsill. And it’s got some overflow of cups and some plants.
It’s also got a jar of shells I picked up off a beach in Delaware. And it’s got a little pumpkin bowl that’s full of bottle caps of unique beers.
So what could be more sacred than this? An aloe plant for healing. A pot of clover for luck. A few flowering cacti for beauty. A jar of memories from a beautiful family vacation. A bowl of proof that I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and trying new things. The only thing it needs is a candle. (I’m a Unitarian and a flame is a symbol of my faith. Here’s a pretty image.)
This is a lesson that I always think I’ve learned, but I have to keep right on learning it. Nothing will ever go to plan. Nothing will ever live up to the picture in my head of what I think it should be. Not my life, not my writing career, not my pursuit of spirituality and inner peace, will ever live up to the picture-perfect plan I have in my whimsical little mind. And so long as I cling to that perfect image, I’m never going to have anything. If I insist that my work is perfect, I’ll never enjoy how good it is. If I insist that my home is perfect, it will never be good enough.
Basically, if everything has to be perfect, then it will never ever be at all.
Station 86 is shocked when a Khloe assassin begins killing members of the all powerful council. Officer Sennett Montgomery and Councilman Godfrey Anders swear to find the assassin after Godfrey’s wife is falsely accused. But the killer, and the council itself, are not what they seem. Neither, as it turns out, is Sennett’s daughter.