We have all of us been told that grace is to be found in the universe. But in our human foolishness and short-sightedness we imagine divine grace to be finite. For this reason we tremble . . . But the moment comes when our eyes are opened and we see and realize that grace is infinite. Grace, my friends, demands nothing from us but that we shall await it with confidence and acknowledge it in gratitude. Grace, friends, makes no conditions and singles out none of us in particular; grace takes us all to its bosom and proclaims general amnesty.
~ from BABETTE’S FEAST AND OTHER ANECDOTES OF DESTINY by Isak Denisen
"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"
Summer blessings, dear friends! Where will you find your special Sacred Spavce to leisurely bask in silence this season? The forms and places of spavce are myriad, each with the potential to be experienced as sacred: in earth's secret nooks and crannies, or wide open plains and ocean landscapes ... in the sanctuary of quiet gardens, chapels, or, simply, a rocking chair ... and, always, in the silence of the Sacred Chapel within the heart of everyone. Graced are those who visit regularly ... Silent BE and see.
How do we make a place sacred? By removing diversions. By creating silence. By bringing our presence and breath to a point of stillness. By listening with our skin, touching with our energy field, feeling with our senses. By holding intent as we enter a sacred place. By drawing out the power of a place with love, courage, and attention. By inviting spirit and welcoming it fully.
~ from "EarthLight" (Spring 2000, Issue 37) by Meg Beeler
There were many places I now know to have had for me the quality we call sacred. Those places were no more and no less than places where for some reason one longed to be, where one had certain feelings that varied from fearfulness to strange and undefined joy. The adult I now am has learned to speak and to write of something called "sacred space," but, as with so many sacred things, one possessed them as a child long before one could name them. Come to think of it, the same may be true of all elements of God's grace.
We have been silent. My mother is gathering small pine cones. We cross a wooden bridge and look down at the water. The mud hens come toward us, dragging a ripple of light across the water. Never in my life have I brought anyone to this sacred place. I have come here for its silence, early in the morning. And she, for the first time in our life together knowing exactly what I need, enters with me in silence.
The survival of wilderness -- of places that we do not change, where we allow the existence of creatures we perceive as dangerous -- is necessary. Our sanity probably requires it. These places function, whether we intend them to or not, as sacred groves -- places we respect and leave alone, not because we understand well what goes on there, but because we do not.
