A (tiny) space of your own

No matter how small and cramped your living quarters, you need a space to call all your own. It’s a sacred space you keep for your dreams, your hopes, the tending of your creativity.

That space becomes your spiritual and mental safe space, a place where you can feel what you need to feel, have bold dreams, write, doodle, hum, sing, or just be. It’s the place where you safely are a human being, not a human doing. That space becomes the place where you simply are. With yourself and your dreams.

Woven light

Woven light

This space doesn’t have to be big. It just has to be yours. It can be a comfortable chair, a desk, a card table, a pillow on the floor. It can be by a window, in a cool dark room, in a corner of the kitchen. The important thing is that it has to be yours and yours alone.

To this space you bring your problems to think them over, your projects to daydream about, your mind to clear out. And you use the space in a ritual way. You never approach it without mindful consideration–this is where my soul rests, this is where my energy is stored, this is where I can have whatever thought I want, or no thoughts at all.

When you come to your space, you come with hope. You might be troubled or angry, but when you come to your space, you come with the realization that anything can happen, that you can be healed or inspired, quieted or charged. Your space can be all that and more.

In my apartment, my sacred space was a chair with a footstool and reading light. It was not my desk, where there was always work to be done. It was not my bed into which I dropped in exhaustion. My chair was where I chose to sit and dream, read, or just be.

In my new house, there is a premium on space. My art spot is a place in the guest room; I do my business work in the dining room filled with bookcases and a desk. But even though I have two places that allow me to express myself, I still have a sacred space–a chair with a footstool and a good reading light next to a window that will let in direct light in winter. It’s a place without a way for people to contact me–no computer, no phone. But a way for me to contact other worlds–read books, sink into meditation. It doesn’t look like anyone else’s sacred space. To one of our cats, it looks like a good place to sleep uninterrupted. But to me, it is the place where all peace starts, where I can let go of all the things I have to be and do, and where, for a small part of every day, I can just be.

–Quinn McDonald is a daydreamer and night-dreamer, and who captures her dreams in a chair by a window. She is a writer and certified creativity coach. (c) 2008 All rights reserved.