Sacred space

The only viable solution I’ve come across for dealing with the myriad planetary crises I’m facing, is to expand my awareness towards soul connections, where every association is sacred. It doesn’t matter if the interaction is with something as profound as birth, as mundane as stirring honey into my tea or as emotionally charged as my conversation this morning with the cell phone company who cancelled my contract by mistake, and then diverted me through five auto voices and four consultants before cutting me off without resolving the issue.

Here is an excerpt from The Liminal Lands where I had to expand my version of what was sacred beyond my limited perspective at the time:

‘I was at a market in Australia with my three adult sons. We had all met up for a few weeks after spending a year apart. I was distressed and feeling judgemental. All three of them had appalling hangovers, having stayed up all night catching up with one another. They looked unwell, unshaven, and unkempt. Much as I adored my kids, they were not conventional and proper. I wandered off in an irritated frame of mind, and on my return noticed my middle son sitting on the grass with three mentally challenged kids, two of whom were severely autistic, and one who had Down Syndrome. Maf is a musician. He was barefoot, having lost his shoes the evening before, and he was smoking a roll-up cigarette to ward off his exhaustion. He was playing the guitar for them and showing them how to play it themselves. They were entranced. The Down’s kid was drooling into the guitar and making soft, cooing sounds. She was thrilled with herself, and all four of them were captivated by their delight in one another. Something about the true power in this Down’s child, and the equality between all of them in this huddle, made me reconfigure my understanding of what was really important.’

I was stopped short in a comprehension of the sacredness of the little things.

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Robyn SheldonComment