Creating Sacred Space

I’ve been working on a book about creating sacred space and inviting the Divine to dwell with it, and my focus on this subject every day increased my desire to practice what I preach in my own home. So, last weekend I announced that I wanted to create a sacred space in our spare room. My son jumped at the chance to help, and he did most of the work. When we were done, we had a meditation and prayer room, which like to call our sanctuary.

I had to give up a fair amount of control – and I like to be in control, especially when it comes to a space I will use frequently – and let him decorate. He cleaned out all his toys and helped move a bunch of boxes and such into a storage closet. Then he started moving tables around, and finally he began bringing in ritual objects – books, candles, tarot cards, and finally a beautiful silver-and-Elat-stone-bound Old Testament that was my father’s and a tattered and torn bible of his grandfathers, which includes the Old and New Testament.

My son announced that he planned to keep that bible for himself, since his grandfather has recently been diagnosed with lung cancer. In addition, he wanted to go upstairs to our sanctuary and read one psalm from it every morning before going to school. I was skeptical, knowing how little extra time he has in the mornings. But do you know, he did just that for the first four out of five school days last week. He disappeared up there again the first two days of this week.

I was so impressed by his commitment and his desire to create a sacred space and a spiritual practice. He is only 12 after all. I wished I had started at his age…what a gift for him to have such a connection to the Divine already while I struggle each day to find, to feel, to remember my connection.

I was also impressed with his wisdom. He knew he needed not only a sanctuary but time to spend in it. He told me he wanted to meditate and to pray there. And his desire renewed my commitment to my project. If a child, who should still feel his connection to the Divine to some extent, feels the need for a retreat from daily life, for time spent communing with God, how much more do the rest of us need that sanctuary in time, that moment or two of meditation, that daily prayer practice, that time to talk to and listen to God? I know I need it.

They say we teach what we need to learn most…and that when we are ready, a teacher will appear. Now I understand the meaning of these adages.

In Honor of Women

I remember having several close girlfriends in high school and in college, but I preferred my male friends. They seemed simpler to deal with. They were less complicated. They were less catty. I could trust them.

So, it isn’t surprising that when 13 years ago while living in Atlanta, GA, I was asked to join a women’s spiritual support group, I balked at the idea. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend every Monday night with a bunch of other women, even if a few of those women were actually close friends of mine. (I did manage to make a few really good girlfriends once I moved to Atlanta about 20 years ago.)

Plus, I was being asked to make a six month commitment to the group. “Oh, my God. What if I hate it?” I asked my best girlfriend, who was also considering joining the group. We decided that no one could force us to attend, so we would try it and hope for the best – and run the other way if need be.

What I discovered in that group was the awesome power women have to support each other, to intuit what another women need, to help them over the rough patches in their lives, to help them move towards their dreams and desires. That group became my weekly shot in the arm of spirituality, positive thinking, companionship, friendship, personal power, focused intent, and joy. Yes, joy. I never left a meeting feeling worse than when I came, only better. And I reveled in the other 12 women’s company and their support. (Well, occasionally we had our differences, but overall, we got along well and did support each other.)

When after three years of meeting on a weekly basis the group decided to meet just once a month, it was me who balked big time. I was in the process of moving out of state, but I couldn’t stand the idea of the group not seeing each other as often as before. For me, the group had become a lifeline. I wondered what I would do without the group once I was living in Illinois.

What I learned during those first three years, and, indeed, over the past 13 that we have remained “a group” despite meeting formally only every few years (I’ve flown to the weekend gathering each time), is that women have uncommon abilities. We are powerful and resilient beyond our wildest imagination. We can weather any storm…especially with the support of other women. We can be spiritual leaders and priestesses, creating awesome sacred space and rituals. We can be shamans, healing each other and ourselves. We can be intuitive and psychic, tapping into our highest wisdom to help others see what they cannot see themselves. And as a group, we are unstoppable.

This is not to say that the group and the women in it are not without fault. I have at times felt picked on or singled out, even though others said they were simply trying to support me and to help me move to the next level with whatever I was struggling with. I have even on one occasion felt totally unsupported by the group when it meant the most to me to gain the group’s support. However, a group like this functions much like a family, and some times issues arise that are harder to deal with than others. Sometimes members have issues with each other. And sometimes, the family just can’t go somewhere together. Thanks to the group, I can see that, and move on.

Unlike a traditionally family, though, we are sisters by choice. At these times few times of difficulty within the group, I didn’t choose out and neither did they. Well, maybe I took a short leave of absence, choosing to nurse my wounds, to rethink my position, to look at the group through new eyes. With such a high level of freedom of speech and an overwhelming ability of each person to really “hear” the other, I have found it possible to communicate and then come back into the circle and renew my commitment to the other women and the group. We all accept each other as we are…warts and all. And we love each other. If one of us was in need, we all know the others would be there. And we’ve proven this to be true.

It was such a huge privilege for me this past weekend to once again come into the circle that is my women’s spiritual support group. And it was a wonderful way for me to open to the work I am now doing – writing about Jewish women’s ability and role as creators of sacred space and meaning-full and spirit-full rituals and prayers. I feel humble, yet, oh, so blessed to be one woman among many in my tradition to take on this role…and one woman among 13 to continue the tradition of the Women of Wisdom, my women’s spiritual support group.

What if I hadn’t agreed to try my hand at a women’s group? What if I’d taken my earlier experiences, albeit immature ones, with women and just walked away from the opportunity to be part of this experience? I wouldn’t be the person I am now. I would have missed something wonderful that I have never been able to replicate elsewhere. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t, but the work the 13 of us did together has created such a deep bond and connection, that it would take at least three years of a new group meeting every week – and sharing at the deepest possible level -- to get to that place with another group of women. But we could do it…

I was recently given the opportunity to join in a different type of women’s group that meets once a month. I jumped at the chance. I went and it was wonderfully welcoming and warm. There was no history between all of the women, like in my old group, and the purpose of the group was different. Yet, it felt good to sit in the company of other women. At the end of this month, I will attend that women’s group again, and I’ll enjoy the chance to be among other like-minded women.

In the meantime, I will relish the memories of my group, feel the connection that is there even when I am not in their presence, and look forward to the next time I can sit in our circle of women again. I’m so glad I gave the group – and the other women – and chance. Life would be much different, much less full, if I hadn’t.

Entering the Sacred Circle of Women

Here’s a blog of a different color from my others so far…

I just returned from a “retreat” with 12 out of 14 women in my old women’s spiritual support group, a group we fondly call WOW, or Women of Wisdom. Since we stopped meeting regularly around 1996, we have met twice for a formal gathering, one of our members died and two (including me) have moved out of Atlanta, Georgia, where we all lived when we began meeting every Monday for three consecutive years. Now, thirteen years later, we are still very much “family” and pick up where we left off when we see each other.

Well, pick up where we left off might be an exaggeration. After many hours of sharing what has happened for us over the many years that have passed, we feel “caught up.” But we wouldn’t need to catch up to feel connected. Indeed, many of us shared this past weekend that we know that if we needed something, if disaster hit, the group would assemble and run to our side to help. Historically, this has been true. What a wonderful thing, to know that across time and distance, we are always connected and always care about and for each other.

I traveled across the country to see my dear friends. As we “circled up” on Saturday night with all but three people present, the room became a sacred space. We placed symbolic representation of those missing and departed in the center, and began to pass along a talking stick. We would break between “stories,” each person having a chance to share what had been happing in their lives over the past few years, to go to the bathroom or stretch, but each time we sat back down in the circle, something amazing happened. We entered sacred space and were transported back to a time eleven, twelve, thirteen years ago when we met each week. The faces were familiar and well love, if a bit more creased with both laugh and worry lines, the hair was different in length and color, the shapes had shifted a bit, but we were the same women and the connection remained the same.

Without even trying, we created a sacred space, a space set aside as different and special, a place where our Divinity could shine through. Each one of us opened to the Spirit and Soul of the other and acknowledged the Divine within the other. One even wore a shirt with the word Namste on it…the Divinity within me honors the Divinity within you, is the translation I was once given of this Sanskrit word. How fitting.

In fact, our sacred space was created simply by the fact that we had joined together in the circle. Like entering a Native American ritual circle or an ancient temple or church, the vortex of Divine energy was already prepared and ready for us to access simply by the fact that we had met there so many times before. In this case, it didn’t matter that we were in Asheville, NC, at the home of a friend, and not in one of our homes in Atlanta. The mere fact that we were together recreated that vortex of energy and our physical bodies created the boundaries of the circle itself within which our sanctuary existed.

Indeed, we became priestesses in that sacred circle without even performing one prayer or ritual. Actually, it strikes me as odd now, in retrospect, that we didn’t bless the space or our time together. There was no need for rituals or prayers. Our act of getting to that place and sitting down in the circle was all that was needed.

It seems to me that the repetition of any ritual or prayer, like the repetition of morning prayers, lighting Shabbat candles, reading the bible or receiving communion – or, in this case, creating a circle of women – creates a sacred space wherever we begin the next repetition. It matters little where we are when we don a prayer shawl and tefillin, sit down with a well-studied holy book, light Sabbath candles, or offer up a simple heart-felt prayer. If we have repeated our actions or words many times before, we create for ourselves a vortex of Divine energy that automatically forms a circle around us, a sacred space. Maybe that’s why we have “spiritual practice.”

I felt so honored to be in sacred space with my “family” of women. Our wisdom was apparent as was our tremendous growth and our ability to hold space for each other. I suppose that, even though I’m not always aware of it, we hold that space continually for each other and for the group, just as a prayer circle, a temple or a church holds space, whether together or alone.

I believe that, just as when we call on our guides or our ancestors to help us when we feel the need for guidance, my women’s group can do the same. When we can’t physically step into the circle, we can step into it metaphorically or using our active imagination and possibly achieve similar – if not the same – affect. By simply picturing all the faces around us and slowly turning to gaze into the loving eyes of each, we can step into the sacred, access the energy of the vortex, reform the circle of women. And then we don’t have to feel so alone. We don’t have to feel disconnected from each other. We can even reach out through our minds and ask the wisdom of the group to be channeled to us. We can ask, “What would so-and-so say if told them my story?” Or “What would the group tell me if they know what was going on with me this very moment?”

The Jewish mystics had a tradition of doing just that – calling upon their ancestors and the angels as guides. They found this practice meaningful and helpful. I remember hearing Napoleon Hill, author of “The Power of Positive Thinking,” speak on a tape about the council with which he met each day or week, but none of them were alive any longer. He simply imagined himself meeting with them, called upon their energy and wisdom and found they could counsel him from the other side.

I feel so blessed to have a circle of women. They have been my best friends, my family, my largest supporters, and my spiritual and creative partners for 13 years. I would wish for everyone such a blessing. This weekend was just that – a true blessing.

A Jingle to Help Me Remember What’s Important

My car just came back from the shop. Despite an expensive amount of work done to it, I still hear the odd jingling noise coming from the left front tire when I drive down a bumpy road. I’ve been worried about this strange sound for weeks now, and the jingle actually prompted me to take the car in and have some belts and things changed. I had them check out the noise, but the technician never heard it. I hear it every day.

Today, as I drove down the bumpy and curvy road to my house I heard it again. No longer worried that something was drastically wrong with that area of the car – the technician checked it out and found nothing, I thought about why I would be hearing this jingling. It reminded me of a watch beeping at the beginning of each new hour or a cell phone beeping when you’ve missed a call or a message. I once learned to use that watch chime on my watch as a reminder to get conscious, be in the moment, become aware of my surroundings at least once every hour. The cell phone beep reminds me to check my messages or missed calls.

Then I got it: The jingling in the car was a reminder, but of what? I got it again: It was reminding me of what I really need to be doing but am not doing – really writing, and really focusing on my writing goals. I have a book waiting to be written, and I’ve been avoiding it at every turn. I spend much too much time focusing my attention on other things. I need to focus on what I want – to find an agent for this book, to get a publishing contract for this book, and to write this book and have it be successful. I need to remember my goal. I need to remember my desire.

This summer I was so focused on achieving this goal, and I saw amazing results from my focused conscious thoughts, my visualizations, my prayers, my actions. And then, I got scared. Things happened…an agent became interested, I received encouragement, I was told I was on to something…and I realized I’d have to show up big time as what I said I wanted to be: A Published Author. I, who teach about moving through fear, was stuck in fear. I have been stuck in fear – fear that I won’t be successful, that I’ll disappoint the agents, that I won’t have anything to say, that I won’t feel the muse with me or the energy and wisdom flowing through me, out my fingers, onto the screen of my computer, and onto the pages of a manuscript. I needed to remind myself to walk across that “narrow bridge” towards my goals, towards my desires, towards who I really want to be.

And how do I do that? By doing it. By writing. And by focusing on my goal at all times. By visualizing it as already here. By praying “as if” not “for.” By seeing the book as a “done deal.” (See my newsletter at http://www.purespiritcreations.com/ for more information on how to pray to manifest your prayers.) And I haven’t been doing that enough.

I need to rekindle the joy of actually writing – to help others, to share my wisdom, to do what I feel God intended me to do, to be my best self. I have to remember the Jewish High Holy Days just past and how they reminded me to be my best self this coming year.

Now, as Jews around the world enjoy the holiday of Sukkot, I have to go into my sukkah, my temporary shelter, and remember to be joyous. This is a holiday of remembering joy and being joyous. I have to rekindle the joy of my writing…and I can’t do that unless I write. And I have to visualize, pray, focus on my desires, my goals as a writer, and feel the joy that will accompany actually manifesting those desires, achieving those goals as if I had already done so.

On that note, I’m off to write…but not before telling you to check out “The Secret,” a great DVD, on this same subject: manifesting your desires. It speaks to so much of what I believe and teach on both Jewish and secular circles.

What Did a Poke in the Eye Make Me See?

This past Sunday, Erev Yom Kippur, the time prior to the beginning of the Day of Atonement (or At-One-Ment), I was in the yard cleaning up and cutting branches for our Sukkah and the Sukkah for my Jewish renewal group, Chadeish Yameinu. (A Sukkah is a temporary structure erected on the Jewish holiday of Sukkot). I was trying to get ready for a drumming we were planning in the Sukkah the coming weekend. While I was cutting tiny little Redwood trees from around the base of one of our huge – I mean really huge – redwood trees, the needles on a branch poked me in the eye. It hurt like the dickens, and I immediately knew I had done something serious, like scratched my cornea. I cursed, wiped my eye and kept cutting -- only to have it happen again!

Although I told my children, who had come out to help me drag the branches off, that I might have to go to the emergency room, I kept on working and tried to ignore the pain. About three hours later, I was still in the yard. I decided to cut a few more little saplings to add to the Chadeish Yameinu pile of branches. Would you believe it! I got poked a third time in the same eye.

Well, I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason…or at least so we will look at them, learn from them, change because of them, rise to a new opportunity because of them. I had to ask myself what I was supposed to see. Or what wasn’t I seeing?

These were not difficult questions to answer. First, I had come outside to work full of anger and resentment. My husband was at the office working, but I definitely felt he should have been home helping me get ready for Sukkot. In fact, he was supposed to cut the Redwood branches and saplings with his chain saw and finish erecting the Sukkah. Since he wasn’t around to do the former, I was left to cut them with my hand clippers.

Instead of blaming him, which I surely did as I held my hurt eye, I needed to see that he wasn’t any happier than was I that he had to go to the office on a Sunday afternoon. Yet, he was going to miss work the next day because of Yom Kippur, and he felt the need to handle things. I needed to redirect my anger away from him and realize that I was simply angry in general that he wasn’t around to help; I wasn’t actually angry at him. And, in the spirit of Yom Kippur, I needed to apologize – which I later did.

Second, I had done a lot of yelling at my children that morning – for not doing what they were asked to do. In fact, I had taken out my anger and resentment about the situation on them…and I had multiplied those negative emotions with my past anger and resentment over them not doing what they were told. I needed to see that this was less about them in this particular moment than it was about feeling like I was stuck doing things I needed to do but didn’t necessarily want to do – and without help (although I forced them to come out and help briefly) -- while they hung out inside doing exactly what they wanted to do despite what they knew they needed to do. And, again, I owed them an apology – which I gave them along with a request that they do what they were asked.

Third, I needed to look at why I was poked in the left eye – the feminine side. I saw that while I wanted to nurture my guests with a lovely yard and garden and a beautiful Sukkah, I was not nurturing my husband or my children on that day. I was not using my feminine, soft, understanding side. I was staying on the masculine, doing, pushing, side. And this was not something new…this was something that I needed to change in the new Jewish year. Every year I set a goal to not yell at my children, to be more supportive of my husband and to be more understanding, nurturing, compassionate towards all my family members. Each year, I hate to admit, I fall far short of my mark.

In fact, I fall short of my mark in a lot of areas. At this time of year – well, in the week or two prior to this – Jews spend a lot of time thinking about how they need to improve and be their best selves in the coming year. We look at how we didn’t do that in the past year. While Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement, Jews don’t see themselves atoning for “sins.” The Hebrew word for sin is “chet,” which comes from an archery term meaning “to miss the mark.” (I love this term. It is so much more nurturing than “sin.” Everyone misses the mark once in a while. It doesn’t make them a “sinner” or a “bad person.” It just makes them human.) Basically, each year we set our sights on new goals in all areas of our lives. Then, we take aim and shoot, but we don’t always get a bull’s eye. In fact, more often than not, we miss the mark. So, my poke in the eye also served as a reminder that I have missed the mark…actually, sometimes I haven’t even bothered to pick up the bow and shoot -- or maybe I picked up the boy and shot but didn’t bother to aim.

I see this every day. Even today, when I said I would first get down to my work – really do some writing -- I have not done so. I’ve checked E-mails, handled some things, added names to my mailing list…basically procrastinated in useful and productive ways, but not done what I said I would do to help me reach my goal – having a proposal and sample chapters for my book completed by the end of November. My goal this year is to really do what I say I want to do – to write, and, in so doing, to fulfill my purpose. So, now that I’ve spent some time writing my blog, which does count as writing, I will end and actually do what I said…I’ll pick up the arrow, aim and shoot (open a new document and begin working on that first chapter to my book…).

And, I’ll try to keep in focus what the scratched cornea of my left eye helped me see.