sometimes the thin spaces are so unexpected, eh? and sometimes when we most wish we had words to capture the mystery, we are left silent and in awe.
i had a strange experience yesterday – of dancing in a once-sacred-space. but those lines blur so easily, like the dotted line that marks the barrier of sacred and profane. i love the wendell berry line:
“there are no unsacred places, there are only sacred places and desecrated places.”
what makes a bathtub a temple, or an arena a sanctuary?
what makes a glass of water holy? or bread and wine more than a meal?
these words come to mind: intention. communion. celebration. recognition.
(i know you will look these words up and chew on their definitions; devour and integrate them – find the strands that weave them together)
in conversation lately, the idea of polarity has emerged often. we live in a world of opposites and extremes. a world where it is very hard to hold the tension, hard to find and dance in that elusive middle ground.
but when we divide and take sides, we lose the space for conversation; integration. thinking of one idea or path as right – so the other must be wrong. choosing between decisions: if one is good then the other option must be bad. (i loved brad’s teaching on the battle of 2 good things pitted against each other rather than the polarizing good vs. evil framework that we so often use)
but we know everything is on a spectrum. so why is it is so hard to live in the middle of the rainbow? why is it so much easier to slide to either black or white?
and i’m not sure what i’m saying with any of this, but it has just been on my mind – this idea that we so often need to clarify or categorize — we struggle with the Mystery.
i struggle with the Mystery.
it is funny though, how much we can learn about ourselves when we move to in-between spaces, those thin places. when we lean into liminality and find ourselves re-defined beyond the barriers that hold up the mirrored walls of our identity.
they say the path is made by walking. but sometimes i think it is made by dancing. and these movement-prayers speak volumes that words can’t really say. and places become sacred by the gathering of souls that choose to engage in communion – in rhythm and motion on cold winter nights. once again, i am reminded of the beauty and fragility of connection – these fierce and tenuous strands that keep us moving back towards one another, that bind us together.
with you in this mysterious dance,
p.s. missing you – but savouring this connection.