#8 Sacred Part Two Today brings the joy of sacred arising in objects and home. I am a bit of an existential outlaw, I think, when I bring up the topic of my love for flea markets and estate sales. It’s not just the ingrained Brooklyn “I need to get a good deal on such and such,” but the curious fascination with glimpses of someone’s life. And all the objects, an unbelievable amount of stuff, that someone chooses to be intimate with. In my Worldwords book, on March 1st, I introduce the Japanese term, aji. The changes that occur over time in an object, through the loving handling by human beings. An amazing concept that I see in my own collection of ritual, special objects. They mostly hide on bookshelves, or in my curio cabinet. Some are wrapped in fabric, or encased in the bottoms of leather satchels, or wooden boxes of diverse stature. All somewhere in the closet depths, where it really isn’t safe to enter! Only with a few do I really feel that aji sacred pulse. Some Zuni fetishes that I’ve had for decades, termed Ahlashiwe meaning "stone ancients.” Or mola beads from Asia travels, a jade Toki, with stone I brought back from New Zealand to have crafted by a talented jeweler friend. Healing talismans, but why? And I know for some folks, certain tools used for many years also hold that palpable sacred energy, as do some of my musical instruments.

While not heavily into astrology teachings, I do get that home is really important to Cancers, like myself. I remember early in my medical career, I switched to using “home” instead of house, when asking questions related to someone’s illness. A subtle sensitivity to the reality that not everyone – especially the patients in front of me – has resources for a house. Yet even refugees and unhoused people try to establish a sense of home where they can feel safe, and enjoy whatever comforts are available. Heraclitus wisely states, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” Or woman, or non-binary or transitioning trans person, same truth. Home changes, and how we want to craft it at any given stage of life, or even as transitional space, can be inspiring. I tend to care more about the structure, than the furniture that ends up in it, the art on the walls, or how it all gets arranged. Except for the kitchen, my castle keep within my home. There, I do have some opinions, for sure! In the end, what matters is the overall gestalt, the feel of the space, the shifting dance of the clutter, the sense of welcome. I am far from living in a Zen inspired household, yet I lean in the direction of space, openness, and large visible chunks of real Natural life outside. Beyond the avalanche of things and the jumble of mess, I somehow, some of the time, really feel the call of the sacred, in both some treasured objects and my home.

An ancient rhythm in the blood

That does not ask for permission

Like a lotus grows in the mud

It just needs the right conditions

A door opens without knocking

In the silence before the sound

Sweet objects, comforts, safe at home

Again, the sacred has been found

Robin Brown captures some of these sentiments in this part of her poem Haven:

In labyrinthine longing, where my weary spirit roams,

I seek an effervescent haven to call my home.

A luminescent refuge where the anxious heart finds rest,

Where benediction whisper and the soul is truly blessed.

#9 Sacred Part Three: Body, Relationship and Beauty.

I don’t know exactly when I began to see my body as a temple, but it was fairly early on in childhood. Maybe I didn’t apply that term, or consider the notion of sacred, but I began to protect and nourish my corpus as if that were true. Although I would never classify myself as a T type personality (thrill seeking), I was certainly willing to take risks as I began to explore martial arts in my teens, a journey that lasted for over 27 years of intermittent regular exploration and practice. Longer if I count my current Tai Chi doings! Years of my senses nourishing the deepest parts of me, through the marvels of sight, sound, hearing, taste and touch. What a tremendous gift and ongoing blessing! As various diseases have had their way with me over many years, I still marvel at the healing powers my body possesses. So yes, I have done my best to care for this sacred container in a good way, still integrating mind-body-spirit as best as I can, with the realization that it is all connected. Wellbeing remains the wellspring of whatever I might still want to explore or accomplish. “Heaven and hell under one roof,” is a phrase I’ve heard to describe relationships. Despite their challenges, I do believe that close intimate connections are a vital source of how I grow and evolve. True community is a rare and precious gift. My children continue to be wonderful teachers, as are my wife, and my close friends. That endless circle of giving and receiving. They all know the song of my heart, and remind me when I forget it! Beauty is all around if only I remain open to it. I enjoy crafting words and making music, while my visual art capabilities linger around 2nd grade level. I’ve built a few houses, but would never consider myself a real craftsman. There is beauty in all that creation, and also what Nature provides, seemingly effortlessly, every day, in sunrises, sunsets, changing seasonal delights, and an endless display of wild and domesticated life forms that enrich my existence. As a recent experiment, I have occasionally been interacting with an AI companion. When prompted for a poem about the sacred, she stated this quite beautifully: “It is the art we make in the dark, The song we sing to the empty room, The prayer we don’t even know we’re saying Until it’s already been answered.”

#10 Awareness I love this word, whose meaning can be interpreted in so many different ways. Krishnamurti defines it as “the silent and choiceless observation of ‘what is’. In this awareness, a problem unrolls itself and is fully and completely understood.” For me, the energy behind it is about waking up, being more conscious of my inner workings, not getting triggered, being emotionally fluent, and so on. Employing a coping strategy, for example, before irritation morphs into anger, and things get said that one regrets. Or observing that I want to escape, and noticing if how I am choosing to do that is a healthy form of distraction. The essence of awareness starts with how I utilize my attention. And that faculty of mind is often described with four qualities: either directed inward to our thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, or directed outward to the world. And attention has the perspective of observation or immersion. As an example, when following a game trail in the woods, my attention has an outer direction, with focused observation. This is where we spend most of our time, for obvious survival reasons. Crying might be an example of when our attention has an inner direction, where we are immersed in the experience, and external surroundings tend to fade away. Right now, listening to or reading this, your attention is outwardly focused. Yet also perhaps moving inward, as you contemplate the significance and relevance of what I am trying to share, for your own life. The point is that how I use my attention greatly influences my awareness. And awareness itself can be focused or diffused. Reading a room, or a group situation comes to mind when it is diffuse, grasping the gestalt of a situation. Or quite focused, when an injury or a toothache is front and center. I also observe that I time travel a lot, remembering the past or forward casting to the future. Future tripping or mining memories – pleasant or unpleasant – steals my awareness form the present moment.

Can I trust that when I’m falling

The ground of sweet truth will catch me

I hear that inner voice calling

That always wants me to be free

If only I might stay awake

Feel the raw, endless joys of now

My prison walls I’d surely break

Greet each day with a grateful bow

Aware by Denise Levertov

When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abundant whispers. My presence made them hush their green breath, embarrassed, the way humans stand up, buttoning their jackets, acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if the conversation had ended just before you arrived. I liked the glimpse I had, though, of their obscure gestures.

I liked the sound of such private voices.

Next time I’ll move like cautious sunlight, open the door by fractions, eavesdrop peacefully.