Sacred spaces

One of the benefits fiction provides is a mental space to heal. As a writer, I may heal from my own experiences of trauma through telling a story. As a reader, I may heal from grief, isolation, and fear by imagining the story I read.

The corollary to fiction in the real world is sacred space. I’ve been thinking and working a lot these past few weeks to develop patterns for sacred spaces that can be formed in any life. My husband is an iconographer who was at a week-long workshop last week. Since I have to set up props and take photos while the children are not underfoot, the instructional material has been slow-going. But I’m almost there.

In the meantime, here is a photo of one of the sacred spaces in our home: a little row of icons and candles in the living room, surrounded by photos and mementos. Not everyone prays the way we do, and that’s okay. I hope you can still enjoy the beauty.

Archangel Michael, the Theotokos Eleusa, Jesus, candles, a silver saint charm bracelet from a departed aunt, incense, the edges of photos.