Sacred Space: Impermanent Gifts

Danmala, by Kathy Klein
via Colossal

What is it about us humans that makes us want to rearrange natural objects into patterns? When I find myself in a beautiful setting, sometimes the most natural thing to do seems to be to make some sort of "offering" to the beauty I find myself surrounded by. An arrangement of shells, in some attempt to align my own perspective with the greater landscape. An arrangement of rocks, as a greeting to others, a sign of recognition that my own perspective can blend with others'. 

Kathy Klein's danmalas are a good example of this kind of art. Visit her gallery to see a quilt of technicolor patterns, all created from flower petals. She describes "centering" herself and creating the art in a state of devotional silence. The designs she creates seem to pulsate from the blending of her state of mind with the natural matter she works with.

Some of my favorite art is the kind that is meant to be impermanent. There's something so poignant about making something, knowing that when you leave it behind, it will eventually be returned to the earth. There's something beautiful, too, in leaving the art to be discovered for others who happen to be passing by. I sometimes want to hoard everything that's beautiful, and making something that can be left behind is a good exercise in sharing and letting go, even if a photograph allows us to hold onto the art in some sense!

Shell Offering by me

Habits in Space

Photograph from the collection Modern Life of the Soul, by Melanie Bonajo
via The Ornamism Project

Have you heard the NPR story "What Vietnam Taught Us about Breaking Bad Habits"? The gist is that our habits can be tied to specific places, as in the couch as a place to sit and eat ice cream, and that changing the environment can give you a chance to consciously change your behavior. 

The story makes me see my home in a new light. What behaviors am I reinforcing? (Rather than worrying about New Year's resolutions, I think I'd better start by seeing things a little more clearly!)

It also makes me think about building an altar more seriously; they're one place in the home that can help you re-mind yourself and "alter" your habits. The altar wouldn't need to be sculptural—it could also be a flat work of art—it seems like the important part of such a space would be your response to it.

Let Us Build Altars

Three Bee Hives, by Michelle of United Thread

"Let us build altars to the Blessed Unity which holds nature and souls in perfect solution, and compels every atom to serve an universal end. . . . "

Chickadees and Avocado Tree, by Michelle of United Thread

" . . . Let us build altars to the Beautiful Necessity, which secures that all is made of one piece; that plaintiff and defendant, friend and enemy, animal and planet, food and eater, are of one kind."

    —"Fate," by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Poppy Pods, by Michelle of United Thread

I've been thinking about altars as mindful collections lately. While I was thinking about what sorts of things would be on my altar, I realized that I've already started one, with the surprises found on my daily walks—egg shells, a bit of a bee hive, a beautiful black-and-white moth . . . The fragile gifts of life are all around, it seems.