Sacred

I decided to build a sacred space

So I built up tall walls.

They were sturdy and thick.

I laid the floor.

Board by board the space took shape.

A fine solid roof

Covered my work

And, content, I sat alone.

How safe? How lovely?

How perfect is this!

But where were the windows?

Where was the door?

So I sat in darkness and discomfort

But still would not take down the wall.

A root pushed its way through the floorboards

And crept up the side.

I cut it again and again

But it still returned.

Each time it was stronger

And then too thick to cut.

It pushed out the wall

One brick at a time.

I scrambled to patch it.

I wept. I wailed.

“No no no no no”

As I frantically shoved rubble into rubble.

There was nothing left to fix.

My sacred space collapsed around me

And the root burst forth in leaves.

I hated that tree

With all of my being.

“You forced me from my shelter.

Who cares if it was dark and cold?

It was mine!”

So, determined to gain revenge,

I followed that root back.

Back. Back. Back.

Deep into a forest I had never before seen.

Back through brambles

And ravines

Over sharp stones

And cliff ledges.

Back through swampy mires

That reeked of death

And almost pulled me in.

Back until I swore I would collapse

From the work of it,

From tracing this root,

Hatred still driving me

Pushing me beyond limits l thought I had.

How long did I seek it?

Hours? Days? Years?

I lost all but the seeking.

I lost all but the rage.

The source lay before me

But I didn’t approach.

Who would I be without my anger?

I didn’t want to know.

Slowly I circled

Inch by inch

Examining every last wrinkle

In the bark on that root.

Reaching the end was inevitable.

I gave up. I went in.

The root was lovingly planted

In a pot that was too small

With one word on the side.

One word and all my anger blew away

With no more resistance than dead leaves in autumn.

It was all I had needed.

It was all I had feared.

Its absence had caged me.

Its presence set me free.

Who am I without anger?

I do not know.

Who am I without the seeking?

I do not know.

Who am I without my sacred space?

There is no separation from this space and the sacred.

Trust -

Just this -

Trust.