My sacred space is a queen-sized futon in the upstairs bedroom of our house. Since it’s just my wife and me now, we removed the bed from one our bedrooms, and added a futon and a desk.
Above the futon is a whimsical picture of a beach sailing buggy full of passengers and guided into the wind by its captain. I smile every time I enter this space. It sets the mood for my journey. Whatever happens happens. In this space, “I will take it as it comes.” There is no effort, no expectations. Nothing is forced. I will walk in gentleness and let thy will be done.
I love meditating in this space because I can close the door, and isolate myself from the bustle of the rest of the house. I stack the couch with pillows and blankets and get as comfortable as I can because meditation is not about distractions or forcing yourself into any position or anything that comes from outside you. It’s about experiencing your own nature and remembering from where you come.
I meditate before breakfast and before supper every day–day after day, year after year.
Some years ago, in meditation, I begin to realize it was the only time during the day that my activity was perfect. It was perfect activity. There was no activity outside of meditation that I could say that about honestly.
I also realized without knowing it that more important than where I meditated, was meditating regularly. I’ve meditated regularly twice a day, missing maybe five meditations over my 48-year practice. Whatever is the best opportunity and place to regularly practice a spiritual practice is a sacred place. I’ve meditated on park benches, pulled off the road and meditated in the car, back rooms at parties, buses, parks, planes.
I maintained my practice even when I was an 18-year-old, working in a cotton mill that had 20-minute breaks every four hours. I was working second shift which ran into my “before supper meditation.” I’d stop my machine and meditate in the men’s bathroom toilet stall that had no doors. Early in our marriage I’d watch the kids as my wife meditated and she’d watch the kids as I meditated.
It’s great to have a designated space to facilitate my practice, but I carry my sacred space with me.
The sacred transcends a church building, even one as beautiful as St. Paul’s.
The sacred spills over into wherever I am.
— Steve Martin