Sacred Space: Basilica of Agony

The Basilica of the Agony, photograph by Hans Mast

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed long into the night. The Basilica of the Agony is built at the foot of the Mount of Olives, near this garden. I like it that there is a church to mark Jesus' dark night.

Sacred Space: Imam Mosque in Isfahan

by Fulvlo Spada

The Imam Mosque, or Mudrasa Imami, of Isfahan is a gorgeous unification of art and religious aspiration. On the outside, painted blue tiles make the imposing building feel light as spirit. On the inside, the arched ceilings look like heaven itself. 

The mosque at Isfahan is particularly famous for its mihrab, a prayer niche that is oriented towards Mecca. Isn't it a beautiful way to orient oneself to what is holy?

Update, 22 September 2012: I planned this post quite a while ago, before the latest outbreak of protests and violence. It really breaks my heart to see people so filled with rage, and to see so much misunderstanding in the world. If this post could make a political statement in any way, it would be a call for everyone to see more clearly—to find peace in the world through peace in themselves.

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

Sacred Space: Church Ruins and Angel Oaks

by Dustin K. Ryan

Sheldon Church, north of Savannah, Georgia, located in South Carolina, was destroyed twice: once in the Revolutionary War and once during the Civil War. And yet, despite what has been done to it, it's beautiful, don't you think? 

Can you imagine looking out of the arches and back out into the trees? Somehow the landscape would be transformed, and the trees would be part of the church.

Walking back through the arches of the ruins, and into the trees, maybe our relationship to the landscape would be changed, and maybe everything would feel a little more sacred.

Angel Oak

Sacred Space: Anshe Kenesseth Israel

via Really Borning

Some places of worship find themselves in disrepair, in neighborhoods without the funds to renovate them to their former glory. Some churches get transformed into apartment buildings or offices, but others are simply demolished. This seems to be the future for Anshe Kenesseth Israel in Chicago.

I find myself circling around the idea of reusing spiritual ideas for this particular time and place, and I find myself wishing that buildings like this could also find a new life. 

Sacred Space: St. Stephen's Church

Let's travel up to the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming, to visit St. Stephen's Church.

St. Stephen's Church, in Arapahoe, Wyoming

Writing about these kinds of places can never be easy. The forced conversion of native peoples, the banning of their religious rituals, and the general taking of their land is reprehensible. In spite of these facts, though, my first reaction when I saw St. Stephen's Church was one of joy. How wonderful that the artist, Raphael Norse, used his cultural background to transform the church. I really appreciate these allowed forms of diversity, and I wish there was more of it.

Having inherited religious traditions that I'm not so sure I agree with, buildings like this give me hope that there is some room for creative reinterpretation. (Don't be pessimistic and tell me these reinterpretations are just window dressings . . . )

How would you paint your place of worship? 

Dream Keeper

Interdependent Cycles, by Martin Hill

"True power and wisdom comes from within: When a man realizes his oneness with all creation. When he realizes that at the center of the universe dwells a power greater than his self. This center is everywhere. It is is within each of us. Go now, and walk the good red road."

    —Dreamkeeper

(A disclaimer: The "good red road" means something unattainable to me: it means bravery, sacrifice, and often, violence, because being connected to the earth isn't all flowers and rainbows. I don't think that the "red road" is just another name for a unified spiritual path; it's tied to a specific life-way. This post is just an attempt to honor the wisdom that I see, without appropriating it.)

Sacred Space: Right Here

In my part of the world, rolling hills and big sky are reminders of spaciousness (in the loveliest of senses) and possibility. Just driving through the country yesterday was a pilgrimage for me. 

Western Oklahoma Sky, by Nancy Park
via Bold Brush painting competition

What parts of your environment do you find inspiring?

Sacred Space: Cabezon/Tsenajin

Cabezon/Tsenajin, taken by me

Cabezon Peak, as it is usually called by New Mexicans these days, is featured in the mythologies and cultures of the people native to the region. You can see it as you drive on highway 550, and you can hike it if you choose.

The Navahos call the peak "Tsenajin." For them, it is the head of the Big Giant Ye'iitsoh, who was killed by the twins Child Born of Water and Monster Slayer. When the giant died, his blood became the black rocks around Mount Taylor. This mountain marks the eastern boundary of the Navaho world.

Thanks to the twins, many people were saved from being eaten by the giant, and they were able to do this by the help of a variety of important figures, including their father, the Sun. The Sun was also father of the giant, making the twins and the giant brothers. 

What I love about this story is that even the "evil" character is intimately related to the heroes. I appreciate world views that accept evil as a part of the world, rather than as a wholly Other force. 

What I love about the place is that it is so physically connected to the story. (I can't think of any place that has such historical/cultural/religious significance. Except maybe for Jerusalem. But that is very far away and not part of my daily experience.) How would your life change if you had stories for the most beautiful, mysterious features of your world? What places would you choose to mythologize?

See the excellent full epic Dine Bahane for the story, or visit Voyage to Another Universe, Day 7 for a summary. You can also see a interdisciplinary master's project on the area here.

Sacred Space: Spirit Nests

Let's fly away to these little nests, and watch the sun rise. (Originally discovered via Unstitched.)

Via Treebones Resort

What makes these spaces sacred for me is that they're homey and welcoming, besides being beautiful. They can be used for gatherings as well as for more meditative purposes. But no matter how they're used, they're set apart from the usual Western style shelter. Circular and constructed out of raw branches, the nests reorient visitors to the world, hopefully in a way that is more harmonious with the world and more filled with wonder at how humans fit into the beautiful world.

Ten-person spirit nest

Sacred Space: Chartres Cathedral

It's time for another pilgrimage, friends!

This time, we'll visit the great cathedral of Chartres, completed in 1290. (My husband and I visited the cathedral just this summer, while it was undergoing renovations. It's amazing how light the stone became when renovated; it's a completely different space--light and happy. We're looking forward to seeing again some day when the renovations are complete.)

Chartres is famous for its beautiful, old stained glass. Much of it is a gorgeously rich blue color. Besides the lovely colors, the artists creatively portrayed the classic stories of the Bible. One of the most famous windows is called the "Blue Virgin." Below her are panels depicting Christ's temptations and the wedding at Cana. (Isn't it a lovely transformational image? struggle with the shadow → marriage of opposites → wisdom...)

The "Blue Virgin" of Chartres, taken by me

Chartres is also famous for its labyrinth, which visitors can still walk along each Friday in the summer. I love labyrinths, because they symbolize the great faith required in spiritual wandering. As you walk, you wonder, when will I reach the center? But the beautiful thing is, you always do reach the center, the rose of enlightenment. You're never lost.

from the book Alle Tiders Labyrinter, by Jørgen Thordrup, via Lavigne

Sacred Space: Rothko Chapel

Let's make a pilgrimage to the Rothko Chapel. It's in Houston, Texas, but let's just travel by spirit.

While Rothko drew from Christian symbols, such as a triptych to represent the crucifixion and the octagonal shape to represent a basilica, I love how the space is open to any spiritual pilgrim.

I love the dark, rich colors of the canvases. Are the viewers being invited to confront their souls, the vast unknown, the mystery of the other?

Number 8, Black Form Paintings, Mark Rothko

I, for one, find these paintings surprisingly comforting and peaceful.

(A word of advice: if you visit the chapel in person, try to go on a day with lots of light—the paintings in the chapel depend on natural light, like the stained glass windows of older cathedrals.)