The Prairie in Kansas
The Ember fort in India
A Buddhist temple in Thailand
A deserted home in Bangladesh
Almost every Art Museum and Library I’ve ever visited
When the air stills and my blood tingles and my soul hums with recognition. Sacred Space. Sometimes it is religious space, a spot that has heard the prayers of generations. Sometimes it is ancient space, which has stood for centuries. Sometimes it’s the home of beauty or knowledge. Sometimes its nature. All have the same effect on me. Like Christmas Eve mass when I was little with the sound of bells chiming and prayers in Latin---it is mystical and so much more than I can fathom or comprehend. It is incense and still air. It’s a particular scent. It’s the sound of wind in the grass. And I feel it in my bones, an overwhelming urge to stop and just exist. Breathe the air and Be in the moment. Absorb the time and the place, letting it seep under my skin and into my veins until it becomes a part of me, something to keep with me, in me, forever. Commit it to memory and not just to film. Pause in acknowledgment of that which came before. That which brought me to this place, this time, this moment, this existence. Practice Gratefulness.
I call it Sacred Space. You might call it something else. The name is not important. The acknowledgment of its existence and the opportunity to experience are what matters.