I lay next to my boyfriend, knowing that when we woke up we’d begin the long season of goodbyes while I was at school, and suddenly everything seemed to be cased in a delicate glass. Within me each emotion and thought was in a vile which I handled with individual care. I held off humour to protect my vile of sorrow, and I pushed away acceptance to honour the sacredness of grief.
Sacredness is often associated with protecting the form and identity of something – like a glass casing it prevents mixing and breaking.
So I began an experiment:
What if I held a sacred vase in my mind and also let it go to smash? Would the sacredness disappear with the form?
I discovered that instead, the sacredness existed in the moment padded fingertips kissed the surface but it also existed in the excited drop from my hands. The meaningful quality was fluid and changed with each moment – like love, sacredness was not affected by the object it was applied to.
We do not need to hold sacredness sacred.
Let the power of humour crash over the sacred jar of your beliefs and dissolve them into waters made deeper by their mixing. See that in letting go of your sacred holds there is more space and freedom within yourself to think new ideas and share your once delicate memories.
I lay there and smashed each piece of glass I felt. Allowing my fear and grief to flow freely so that I felt them like the sky feels a cloud – with no boundaries, only breezy concentrations.
I realized that sacredness must be paired with flexibility. That the thing which we hold sacred is only so because of our interaction with it – meaning the interaction is what is sacred.
Applying this to age and death, I could let the glass casing around my body and those whom I love break – freeing them to live and die without losing their value to me. We case our bodies with tension – furiously holding back the soft sagging, creasing and creaking because of our worship of our younger selves. The caveat “younger” in the phrase “love my (younger) self” was the glass form I wore that was growing increasingly uncomfortable as time went on. In smashing it I felt my body instantly relax. Breathing through my skin I felt no fear for the future.
Unconsciously I reached a hand across the bed to find his restless shoulder. I decided to let my tight fear and saudades come and go as they pleased. The field between us on the bed overflowed with the emotions that I had freed, yet it was not too much – more so it was like the delicate balance of a wildflower meadow, where each plant arranges itself in beautiful composition with the other simply because of their freedom to chose. He would leave and so would I, over and over again – but this had no effect on the sacredness of love or our woven life.
Let your lover’s toes find yours at night, and let their warm meeting be your delight.
But let their leaving – and the freeing of your toes to do as they please be your joy.
So that joy and delight are your day and night.