Sacred Space

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With only two days of Hybrid school and three days of Zoom school, it was a challenge, let me tell you, but I did it anyway. I marked off the hours in my calendar. Highlighted them in purple - my favorite color. Blocked the time off, smoothed it out, refrained from filling up that small but essential space. Time, precious time, even more so since Covid. Each minute of time to myself is like liquid gold. Like droplets of pure heaven.

I touch the smooth surface of my real paper-and-pen calendar, running my fingers lovingly over the small section of time - 5hrs and 45 mins. This time is marked off for me, just me - in a book both filled and unfilled with and without so many things in this past year.

The physical feeling of this time on the page - but even more, the way it makes me feel when I look at it - is hard to describe. My word choice was intentional. Sacred Space. Not Writing Time. I wasn’t sure if I would actually begin writing. If it would be that easy to slip back into my own stories, after focusing on bringing other people’s stories to life these past years. After putting everyone else first, my hundreds of students and especially my sweet, 8-year-old son.

Not everyone can pick up a pen or place their fingers on a keyboard and just start writing.

For many of us, part of our writing process is invisible. There’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes before a single inked word appears on the page.

If you are anything like me, it may take more than just sitting down at your desk or in your writing place and just “banging it out.” I have often wondered why I am not one of those writers who can just get it done. I have judged myself and compared myself and lamented the slow, molasses-like way the words drip, thick and sticky, one-by-one, onto the blank page. I have felt less than, less capable, even less of a writer. But those are false beliefs. The most true thing is this:

I am my own writer.

What does that mean? It means I write my own way, have my own path in and out of my stories. I have my own process and I honor it. Yes, it takes me awhile to “get into it” but once I am in, I can stay there with my story, with my pen and keyboard, and I can write for HOURS. I am a Stamina Writer!

And other days, I am a different kind of writer. And that’s okay. The main thing is this: I am a Writer.

You may wonder if you are, too. You may not want to call yourself a Writer if you haven’t been published yet (or maybe you don’t even want to get published).

Even if you write only one word a day, you are still a writer, if you want to be! And I want to be. I was born to be. A Writer.

And that is why I wrote Sacred Time in my calendar. Time for me. Me!

And here I sit. Me and My Time. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with it! After wanting it for so long, now it is here, and I have no idea what to do with this sacred, golden moment. I mean, I do, but I just can’t do it! I can’t use it or fill it up with anything because then it will be gone. I have to sit here staring at it and do absolutely NOTHING with it.

Those two words in purple ink - those few highlighted lines - are the world to me.

They are the ability to take a deep breath and exhale it out. They are an island upon which I can rest, sit, stretch out on. A place I can feast my eyes upon, over and over again. Each time I read the words “sacred space” I take a breath. It fills my chest, expanding me. Each time I exhale, a tiny moment from the past year releases. My shoulders drop. The constant muscle spasm that has gripped my shoulders releases the tiniest bit. Again and again, I breathe and exhale.

If this is all I do with my Sacred Space today, that is okay. That is success. That is me fulfilling my purpose on earth. That is me, working on my writing.