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Simply Satisfied
A
series of articles on developing a life of simplicity
by The
Rev. Canon Renée Miller
Installment
2
Creating a Sacred Space
There
was once a very poor man who lived in a one-room dilapidated apartment.
His clothes were ragged, his hair unkempt, his body bent and broken. One
day he entered an old and musty antique shop that was filled with both
gaudy and graceful items from years past. The proprietor of the shop watched
the man carefully. She did not think the man could be trusted, and it
was obvious that he had no money. As the man looked around the shop, his
eyes lighted on an exquisite crystal vase etched in an intricate pattern.
A slim stream of light shone through a nearby window, and the vase caught
the light and threw a beautiful pattern of rays on the oriental carpet
below. The man was entranced by the vase and asked the proprietor its
cost. The man went away, and several months later returned to the shop
to buy the vase. As she was wrapping the prized possession for the wizened
old man, the proprietor ventured to ask why he was buying the vase. She
simply couldn't understand how someone as poor as he would waste his money
on a piece of old glass. The old man replied, "In my room I have
nothing of beauty. I have been saving my money so that I may be surrounded
by the beauty of this vase." He took the vase to his shabby, empty
room, and when the sun's rays shot through the window and cut through
the vase, the poor old man's bare life was filled with color -- beautiful,
beautiful color.
The
Beauty of Simplicity
When we begin to think of simplifying our possessions, we usually begin
with drawers and closets and garages. We begin going through things and
purging those that are no longer used or useful. While this is an important
exercise, it often ends up being simply another form of what our grandmothers
did every year when they engaged in 'spring cleaning.' It doesn't necessarily
give us an experience of the wonder and beauty of simplicity. We find
that we have less clutter in those spaces, but we are just wading along
a tidier shore rather than sailing into the broad sea of simplicity. The
courage to take that journey away from the safe shore does not come through
material purges. It comes from experiencing beauty, calm, and a sense
of being centered in God's presence.
Take a moment to think of the most beautiful space you have ever been
in - the space that seemed whole and holy. Perhaps it was a lovely nook
in an old inn where you once stayed. Perhaps it was a large living room
decorated with scrumptious colors and fabrics. Perhaps it was an old,
stone-cold chapel that breathed centuries of incense. Perhaps it was a
room featured in Architectural Digest that was so beautiful you wanted
to step into the page. Or perhaps your image of an exquisite space is
one that is to be found in nature. Sitting by a riotous and mesmerizing
ocean surf, standing in the solitude of a pine forest, walking through
a landscaped labyrinth, sitting on the edge of a cliff scanning the landscape.
Whatever images wend their way into your consciousness, you will notice
that God's presence feels inviting and accessible in them. It is often
easier to settle into the Divine Presence in those kinds of spaces than
it is in your own home. This is because such spaces have a freedom from
distraction. A sense of orderliness. An absence of clutter and confusion.
They edge their way into the heart with a kind of truthful beauty that
is both alluring and captivating. The way to enter the door of simplicity
is not through deprivation but through beauty.
A Singular Space
Art and architecture are all about space. Designing space. Moving space.
Enclosing space. Opening space. Expanding space. The great early 15th
century architect Filippo Brunelleschi said as he began to build the famous
dome of Florence's cathedral, "I can already envisage the completed
vaulting." Both the artist and the architect create from the 'space'
they see in their mind's eye. They begin with the end in mind. Once they
have a clear vision of the end, they can take the steps necessary to get
there. The Latin word for space, spatium, literally means 'that
which is drawn out.' Artists and architects understand the role of space
- they understand that space is not there to be filled, but that space
offers something to be drawn out. In the consumerist culture of the 20th
and 21st centuries, this understanding of the role of space has been lost.
We are encouraged by advertisers and marketers to fill space with furniture,
trinkets, lamps, potted plants, entertainment systems, posters, coasters,
magazines, pillows, throws, and anything else that will add a sense of
decoration and color to a four-walled room. Rather than letting space
itself be empty enough so that something can be drawn out from it, we
become adept at putting stuff into it. Embracing simplicity requires a
fresh view of our notion of space.
Every major
religion has some form of spiritual practice of attention or mindfulness.
Whether it is meditation or simple awareness, spiritual depth occurs when
there is focus and singularity. The number of possessions that we have,
the amount of material goods that fill our lives, the clutter that seems
to gather all around our living areas, crowd out attention and focus.
Our minds, thoughts, energies are dispersed in myriad directions, and
in the cacophony of competing claims on us, we cannot seem to find our
center, our sense of clarity, our touch with the sacred, our experience
of God. One way that I have helped people begin to reclaim that holy core
that exists within us is to lead them through the process of creating
a simple space within their own home where what is divine may be drawn
out. You can begin the process yourself by trying the following exercise:
1. Choose
an area of your home that you find particularly attractive or peaceful.
It might be a room, or a corner in a room. It might be a closet or a stairwell.
It might be windowless or flooded with light. The size of the space is
not important.
2. Begin to clear out that space until it is completely empty of everything.
3. Bring a chair or a sitting pillow into the room and sit for several
minutes, feeling the emptiness of the space.
4. Be attentive to the images and impressions that float across your mind.
What do you feel is missing in the space? What does the space seem to
'want'? If you were going to meet God in this space, what would you want
it to look like?
5. Record in a journal your thoughts and ideas.
6. Begin to bring items into the space one at a time. You might bring
such things as a candle, a favorite rock, an icon, a cross, a vase of
fresh flowers, a beautifully woven blanket, a holy book, a beautiful piece
of glass, a table, etc. Avoid bringing in several items at once because
it is much too easy to begin to 'fill' the space rather than 'draw out'
from the space.
7. Again, sit in your space being mindful of the change in the space as
each item is added. If you feel you have put in too much, take out items
one by one just as you put them in. You will know when you have just enough
- the space will feel hallowed.
8. When it is 'just right,' take off your shoes, enter the space, and
offer it and yourself to the God who is One.
9. You will
find that you do not have to force yourself to go into your sacred space.
The space and the Spirit in the space will call you from the busyness
of your life into that inner stillness where hope and holiness meet.
When the old man in the opening story put his focus on the beautiful vase,
his life took on a measure of beauty. When we sit in a sacred space, focusing
our attention on God's presence, our lives take on a measure of God's
likeness. Simplicity becomes not so much something to strive after, as
to relax into. Cleaning closets, drawers and garages will give you a sense
of accomplishment and freedom from clutter, but sitting in a simple holy
space will prepare your spirit to respond ever more deeply to the divine
invitation to "be still and know that I am God."
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