It wasn’t something I knew anything about until a few years ago. It wasn’t even something I knew was in me until then either.
I was brought up a Catholic and certainly knew what Sacred was, or so I thought. I knew about altars, and rituals and ceremonies and ooh the hymns. I sang in the choir, my brother was an altar boy and my mum was the organist. I lit innumerable candles and visited the nuns with my mum – I was mesmerised by their huge rosary beads that clunked and swung cumbersomely against their round bodies. I watched them gardening through the fence of our primary school playground… everything felt like summer then.
I was Christened at the Easter Vigil a few weeks after I was born. I made my First Confession and then my First Communion one sunny June day. I wore my little white dress and never questioned a thing. By the time I was expected to make my Confirmation and become a fully fledged member of the Catholic Chuch I was questioning everything…
My mum was never allowed to take communion on a Sunday. Why? I asked. It was the first of many unanswerable questions but divorced parents aren’t great Catholics. Despite the fact my mum was no longer allowed to receive communion she was the church organist and so my childhood was filled with hymns, one of the those precious things I am eternally grateful for. We always sang. Though I no longer go to mass, whenever I do find myself in a Catholic church I still cannot get through certain hymns without crying, tears from somewhere so sacred in me that they remind me of a place that cannot be forgotten by my body or my soul.
All those years spend in song and ceremony. And then all the years inbetween then and now with no sense of the Divine outside of me anymore, let alone inside.
I studied Philosophy at Edinburgh University and was fascinated by the existence of a higher power. My dissertation on Transcendentalism was honey to me. In the end my belief in something holy came back to the miracle of life, of just being human. The humbling process of just being. The meaning of it all, the point to it all ~ that still brings me to a shuddering stop sometimes. I look at my children sleeping, kiss their warm hands and cheeks and feel immobilised by a love that both terrifies and unifies me. And sacred to me is that certain something so divine that it reverberates an answer through me that has no question.
Becoming a mother was IT. The end of bullshit. The end of fantasy. The end of pretending. The veil had been lifted. Reality sliced together with 20/20 vision. No more illusion. No more maybe. No more “One Day”. The ringing in my ears of my newborn’s cries hotwired to my soul, the reflex action of a million cells coded with the DNA of ancestors that seemed to speak to me in those endless nights of breastfeeds and half shut days. Stumbling through piles of nappies and soiled tops and housework that will still never ever be “done”.
Those days of lingering in silence, drifting in nothingness, wandering in thoughts and dreaming away days. GONE. And in their place was something so sacred i could barely hold it. The realisation that I was Mother. Mother to my own needs, nursing my own wounds, recovering my own inner child, surrendering everything to grace, to light, to deep trust. Giving birth was the beginning of a Spritual Revolution in me.
The sleepless nights and endless days of life crammed into seconds and minutes piled on top of each other ever-ready to topple and leave me in a heap somewhere, anywhere that would put a cup of tea in my hand and hold me in the split-seconds I had between being and becoming. Wrecked with devotion and devoured by love and growing through the soil of rebirth with eyes ready to see again. Ears ringing more now from the distant memory of civilisation. And when I came back into the world. I was not me anymore. I was more than me. I was suddenly a mother – matrilineal ancestors and futures of lineage stretched behind and beyond me and then me in this curious NOW space creating futures past. I had temporarily forgotten how it sounded to be in the world. I forgot that any of that stuff we called “a life” mattered. I was cosmic. I was all-seeing, all-knowing, plugged into heaven. I had touched on my primal power and she was going nowhere.
After years of being subtely told I was dangerous. That I was hurtful. That I was ruthless. That I was unstable. That I was not to be trusted. I knew it was time to TAKE BACK MY SACRED. I called a mother-fucking end to the abuse that was dressed up as adulation. To call out the culprit. The voices were hardly many. In fact it was the voice of only one who’s influence, like the influence of all toxic things seems to seep further and deface more of what ultimately cannot be destroyed. The Human Spirit. Mind games and madness will never win out over truth.
We all reach a moment in our lives where shitting in our own space is no longer an option, just because it’s what other people have done. When fucking with what we really know is no longer okay just because other people don’t know it’s not okay. When we can no longer tolerate the toxic overspill. When we need to clean up the mess and dirt of those (including us) who mindlessly build on sacred space. Our Sacred Space. We must devote ourselves to the job we have. It is ours whether we like it or not. It is time to HEAL. It is time to be the healing presence. It is time to cultivate sacred space and to breath life in to it every single day. With each other, for each other. For ourselves and all the selves we have been.
CreateHER is Sacred Space for women who now know what IT IS, and for those who are finding their way here too. It is Community, it is commitment, it is clarity. It’s where we need to be to know where we are. It is the bosom of creation. It is the heart of the matter. It is your seat, so come sit. When we gather, when we light the light, when we tend to what matters, when we know what it means to be sacred, we can divine something miraculous. As Co~CreateHERs we come together as seekHERs, dreamHERs and believeHERs of what it takes to be women who stand on sacred ground and let the star we beam out from above us be the light that guides us, you+me, home.
The Revolution nestles in the sacred space of women all over the world and we need to see and hear and feel what that really IS. We can do this by consistently, committing to shared sacred space. To connecting in time and space from wherever we hold sacred and magnifying it. Glorifying it. Elevating it. Celebrating it. Consecreating it into reality. Peering through the window of NOW.
Lets let each other know that we are here and we are ready. That this is IT.
We are the healing presence in our own lives. We are the healing presence in other peoples lives. We are the healing presence in each others lives and sacred space is our altar. Let’s Come together. Let’s be Co~CreateHERs. Let time for sacred be ever-NOW.