Simply Sacred
by Serenity Schoonover
Sacred space typically refers to a religious location or monument, but I also like to think of it as rituals one turns to for mindfulness. For me, this is a loosely defined space, a jaunt between my journal and the outdoor world. Writing and physical movement outdoors help me preserve my wellbeing.
The rhythm of my pen scratches across a blank page. Footfalls imprint down a dirt two-track. I have found that I need a yin-yang approach to wellness, one seated and still, the other kinetic and mobile. My introspective side needs to have outlets for blind exertion. Something sifts up through the mental chaff. A turning point is recognized. A resistance is resolved. Sometimes, there is the simplicity of silence.
Denial is a useful tool in life; it is purposeful. Sometimes truth is too painful to consider. The poet Sarah Hall Maney writes, “We do not want to admit chaos and the terror of the unfamiliar.”[1] Denial can provide stability, but it is only a temporary fix. If relied on too long, denial inhibits growth that otherwise may yield unimagined beauty. Stream of consciousness writing, combined with the rush of running through a hushed wood, helps me face the “unflinching mirror.” [2] I start to come to terms with reality. I consider a new perspective. It is a process of normalization, an empowering antidote against doubt and despair. I start to trust my own mind.
It is essential that we each have a place where we can express ourselves, laugh, cry, breathe, grow. Some people have this kind of experience with friends or colleagues, in a church or bowling league. I find it in the pages of my journal. Showing up in the writing is my ritual practice in slowing up. On the quiet of the page, I find the mindfulness to take note of what Francine Prose calls “our historical moment.”[3]
My historical moments are the sweet and soulful slices of life, like braiding the challah, or following my daughters beneath the canopied corridor of a nearby wood. Creating noodly crochet patterns like three generations before me have made. Stirring a batch of kombucha, the long metal spoon gently clanking against the sides of the glass jar. Simple and sacred.
The outdoor world provides needed reminders about simplistic beauty. I find it in the organic asymmetry of a cedar tree, and in the fierce dignity of a crumbling, abandoned homestead. I hear the wind off Lake Superior as it rushes through the treetops, the most soothing symphony ever heard. Barefoot along the shoreline, my husband and children methodically scour the beach for agates. Foraging for dandelion greens I relish the delightfully earthy smell coming from supposed undesirables. In these moments, I reconnect to the sacred. In these moments I am able to remember that there is enough oxygen for my lungs. Complexity melts away.
Wild spaces help my mind shift into a restful blankness, a time of respite and release, a reclamation. Writer Annie Dillard made this illuminating statement: “I come to Hollis Pond not so much to learn how to live as, frankly, to forget about it.”[4] I love that sentiment beyond words, carving out a few of my own after a trail run in the pouring rain.
Awake,
Alive,
Nothing to bring,
Except the breath from my lungs
… an offering.
[1] Kay Vander Vort, et. al., Walking in Two Worlds: Women's Spiritual Paths (St. Cloud, MN: North Star Press of St. Cloud, 1992), 96.
[2] John A. Murray, The Sierra Club Nature Writing Handbook: A Creative Guide (San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1995), 3.
[3] Francine Prose, Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2006), 207.
[4]Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters (New York: Harper & Row, 1982), 15.
Serenity Schoonover lives in Duluth, MN and is a staff writer for Split Rock Review. She has an M.A. in History and has received fellowships with the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council and the National Writing Project. Her essays have aired on National Public Radio and appeared in numerous journals and magazines. “Simply Sacred” first appeared in Bella Grace Magazine.
by Serenity Schoonover
Sacred space typically refers to a religious location or monument, but I also like to think of it as rituals one turns to for mindfulness. For me, this is a loosely defined space, a jaunt between my journal and the outdoor world. Writing and physical movement outdoors help me preserve my wellbeing.
The rhythm of my pen scratches across a blank page. Footfalls imprint down a dirt two-track. I have found that I need a yin-yang approach to wellness, one seated and still, the other kinetic and mobile. My introspective side needs to have outlets for blind exertion. Something sifts up through the mental chaff. A turning point is recognized. A resistance is resolved. Sometimes, there is the simplicity of silence.
Denial is a useful tool in life; it is purposeful. Sometimes truth is too painful to consider. The poet Sarah Hall Maney writes, “We do not want to admit chaos and the terror of the unfamiliar.”[1] Denial can provide stability, but it is only a temporary fix. If relied on too long, denial inhibits growth that otherwise may yield unimagined beauty. Stream of consciousness writing, combined with the rush of running through a hushed wood, helps me face the “unflinching mirror.” [2] I start to come to terms with reality. I consider a new perspective. It is a process of normalization, an empowering antidote against doubt and despair. I start to trust my own mind.
It is essential that we each have a place where we can express ourselves, laugh, cry, breathe, grow. Some people have this kind of experience with friends or colleagues, in a church or bowling league. I find it in the pages of my journal. Showing up in the writing is my ritual practice in slowing up. On the quiet of the page, I find the mindfulness to take note of what Francine Prose calls “our historical moment.”[3]
My historical moments are the sweet and soulful slices of life, like braiding the challah, or following my daughters beneath the canopied corridor of a nearby wood. Creating noodly crochet patterns like three generations before me have made. Stirring a batch of kombucha, the long metal spoon gently clanking against the sides of the glass jar. Simple and sacred.
The outdoor world provides needed reminders about simplistic beauty. I find it in the organic asymmetry of a cedar tree, and in the fierce dignity of a crumbling, abandoned homestead. I hear the wind off Lake Superior as it rushes through the treetops, the most soothing symphony ever heard. Barefoot along the shoreline, my husband and children methodically scour the beach for agates. Foraging for dandelion greens I relish the delightfully earthy smell coming from supposed undesirables. In these moments, I reconnect to the sacred. In these moments I am able to remember that there is enough oxygen for my lungs. Complexity melts away.
Wild spaces help my mind shift into a restful blankness, a time of respite and release, a reclamation. Writer Annie Dillard made this illuminating statement: “I come to Hollis Pond not so much to learn how to live as, frankly, to forget about it.”[4] I love that sentiment beyond words, carving out a few of my own after a trail run in the pouring rain.
Awake,
Alive,
Nothing to bring,
Except the breath from my lungs
… an offering.
[1] Kay Vander Vort, et. al., Walking in Two Worlds: Women's Spiritual Paths (St. Cloud, MN: North Star Press of St. Cloud, 1992), 96.
[2] John A. Murray, The Sierra Club Nature Writing Handbook: A Creative Guide (San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1995), 3.
[3] Francine Prose, Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2006), 207.
[4]Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters (New York: Harper & Row, 1982), 15.
Serenity Schoonover lives in Duluth, MN and is a staff writer for Split Rock Review. She has an M.A. in History and has received fellowships with the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council and the National Writing Project. Her essays have aired on National Public Radio and appeared in numerous journals and magazines. “Simply Sacred” first appeared in Bella Grace Magazine.