What is sacred?
I read this headline today. It was the title of an inspiring piece of writing by Linda Laino, a wonderful artist and mutual friend of me and my friends from Richmond. It got me thinking.
What is sacred, for me?
Deep down, I always knew, that the sacred was everywhere, that it was the underground of human life, of my life in particular.
Still, it was difficult for me to reach.
At times, I felt, nothing was sacred. And I wasn’t even depressed, at least not diagnosed, ever. I was very moody, though. I accepted it. My moodiness and the impossibility to reach the sacred.
When I first came to Richmond, I joined a poetry group, which was one of the most inspiring and satisfying writing experiences (therefore sacred), I ever had. My friend Susan, at whose house we regularly got together, out in the West End, was on Prozac. She said, it had saved her life. For months, she tried to convince me, moody as I so obviously was, to also take Prozac, or maybe Lithium. Both were supposed to be great. I don’t know, but I was stubborn and German. I felt, my moods were part of me and also a huge lesson. They taught me truth every day. Somehow, my moods were sacred. I did not want to numb them. Since they seemed to reach deep down into my soul, dragging out all that stuff, I dealt with from the past: my alcoholic, suicidal father, my negative, always complaining mother, the fact, that nobody would ever be able to love me, I mean: E V E R!
The moods, arising from all this, plus my tendency to fall for rather complicated and negative men, fed my poems, my writing in general, but also my learning.
O.k., o.k., if anybody would have told me, that it would take about 25 years to get through all this, I might have decided to listen to Susan. I don’t know. I always thought, that the truth was close, basically a days‘ journey away. This faith, it was also sacred and got me through this long journey.
The moods, the ups and also the downs, the tears, the gnawing on the past, the hurt, the pain, the anxiety, the fear, the hysteria, the darkness – they all were sacred, to me. They taught me all I know today, about life and what it’s worth.
They were my path. Sacred. One lesson following the next.
What is sacred?
Maybe to be here, as a human being, capable to learn so much, to feel so deeply. Sacred is also the moment, in which I understood, that the past is the past, now and here, only kindness matters.
In particular are sacred all those moments, I spend on my yoga mat, also the ones with friends, soulmates, my children, the writing moments, they are very sacred, also the meditation. The moments in nature, and of course, travelling.
I started a habit, some years ago, filling a glass jar every year with notes, every time, I felt especially happy. It should be called „the sacred jar“, because in fact, I fill it with notes of all the sacred moments. I have a tendency to establish rules. My rule here is: each time, you put a note in this years‘ jar, you are allowed to take one out from last years‘ jar and enjoy it.
Every note revokes pure bliss. Sacred.
By the way: I am not moody any more. Not so much, at least. Going through all my moods, not numbing them, was a journey. I am glad, I traveled!
(c) Susanne Becker