The Anatomy of A Sacred Space

A little context: Last week, I took part in the Modern Elder Academy’s Owning Wisdom Workshop at the Rising Circle Ranch just outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I am not a novice when it comes to personal development endeavors, workshops, retreats, and the like, but this immersion stands out as utterly unique. Below is my attempt to tease out a deeper understanding of just one thread of many woven into the transformational fabric of the experience.

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The weathered skeleton of a cholla cactus limb (pronounced choya) rests on the table, waiting to be claimed.

Cholla wood feels textured and dry in the hand, simultaneously sturdy and delicate with its latticed hollows, once bristling with needle-like cactus spines. Stripped of its defenses, it reminds me of the iconic towers of Gaudí’s Sagrada Família in Barcelona: sacred, whimsical, and, symbolically speaking, perhaps even a little radical.

I’m seated in a circle with thirteen other people — complete strangers just days before — prepared to bare my heart to them and equally ready to receive their tender truths.

Our daily ritual begins with the chime of a bell. Then, silence.

In stillness, we turn inward, listening to the innermost stirrings of our hearts until someone rises to take the cholla. Claiming it breaks the silence. It means, for that first person, I am ready to speak.

The ritual unfolds as the stick passes from one person to the next. Receiving the cholla from your neighbor means accepting the invitation to speak with a level of honesty usually reserved for dear friends or intimate partners.

As speakers, words aren’t rehearsed. Emotions aren’t tempered. As listeners, the group offers an extraordinary measure of undiluted attention and receptivity, the likes of which I’ve never witnessed before in a group this size.

. . .

Morning Circle was a consistent highlight of the Owning Wisdom workshop. Without exception, I watched the members of my cohort greet each new day with courage and vulnerability, holding the cholla and telling the truth.

There’s a metaphor here. That something once so defended and painful could become the very structure that blesses openness.

At the time, it all felt natural and welcome. But in the days since, I’ve wondered: What spell was cast to make that kind of openness and vulnerability feel so safe? Is it possible to trace the anatomy of those precious, deeply human moments?

I believe so.

I’ve been reflecting on what made it feel sacred, and while no formula can guarantee a sense of reverence, I do believe certain ingredients create a powerful frame, much like the striking architecture of the cholla skeleton.

But a frame alone isn’t alive. For something living and sacred to emerge, it is up to the human participants to fill in the hollows, to breathe life into the space with their stories, their vulnerability, and their wisdom.

That said, radical openness isn’t something most of us fall into over the course of an average day. What made it possible in Santa Fe was a powerful combination of five essential ingredients: Intention, Retreat, Beauty, Ritual, and Common Humanity.

While I don’t believe all of these must coexist to create a sacred space, the synergy of all five is potent indeed.

Intention

Everyone in attendance at the workshop in Santa Fe chose to be there as an avenue for growth, insight, and, as the topic of the week suggested, a deeper relationship with wisdom.

By its very nature, wisdom is curious. It assumes a posture of inquiry. It requires a willingness to be open to experience and a readiness to see the world and others around us as teachers.

When connection, curiosity, and growth are the intention, it becomes easier to access a relationship with the extraordinary.

Retreat

There is a discrepancy between the scale and scope of what the human animal evolved to navigate and the outsized machine that is modern life.

The unending news cycle, relentless pressure to achieve, and high visibility of searing injustices across the globe leave an alarming number of us feeling anxious, fearful, and hopeless.

Retreating, even minimally, creates space for restoration. Mindfully setting temporary limits on our intake and allowing ourselves to melt into the safety of a smaller, slower existence begins to heal the frayed spirit.

The world may still be spinning, but in that moment, we are not being spun.

Beauty

It’s no coincidence that gracious architecture, big skies, and a stunning landscape running as far as the eye can see are natural primers for a sacred experience.

Environment matters. We are sensory creatures, after all. The human nervous system is exquisitely attuned to its surroundings, though we routinely overlook the feedback in favor of noise, hyper-stimulation, and distraction.

Try as we might, we cannot outrun the truth that safety is a byproduct of environment. When we are held in a place of beauty, comfort, and spaciousness, something inside us shifts. The nervous system relaxes, the mind settles, and suddenly we have access to parts of ourselves that are usually guarded.

Beauty — especially the beauty of nature — has a way of softening our defenses, calming our inner agitations, and opening us up to our surroundings.

Ritual

Repetition. Rhythm. Symbolism. Structure. Ceremony.

There is a vast difference between repetition born of routine and repetition infused with meaning. One tends to numb, while the other transforms.

Rituals are powerful markers of transitions, containers of meaning, and anchors for presence. They have the power to reconnect us with our priorities and invite a sense of reverence into whatever is at hand, be it grand or simple.

Over the course of the workshop, the cholla stick was a part of our daily ritual. The same object, the same structure, every day. It wasn’t an elaborate rite or an ancient chant — it didn’t need to be — but it served as a portal to something sacred, nonetheless.

Common Humanity

At the heart of belonging is shared experience. As human beings, we all know suffering. We all long for peace, connection, acceptance, and ease.

When we let go of judgment, when we drop the narrative that we have it all together, all the time, it allows us to see and be seen with the eyes of compassion. It makes room for accepting ourselves and others as we are.

There is tremendous magic in bearing witness to the reality of the human condition. It makes space for truth instead of false perfection, acceptance instead of shame, and community instead of exile.

. . .

As I finish writing this ahead of my flight back to the hustle and bustle of “real life,” I acknowledge that most of us don’t live inside retreat centers or wide-open, postcard-worthy landscapes. The lesson, however, is that we can still bring sacred spaces into our everyday lives.

We can pause for a conversation instead of rushing on to the next thing. We can ask a question and receive the answer with our fullest attention. We can commit to speaking a little more truthfully and to listening with a little more goodwill.

I invite you, if so inclined, to join me in creating more Circle moments in our day-to-day lives. May we choose intention over autopilot. May we create micro-rituals and prioritize grounding our nervous systems in beauty. May we aim to remember that every time we meet another person with openness and care, we are participating in something sacred.

The good news is that it doesn’t take a bell, a circle, or even a cholla stick. Sacred space isn’t a physical location. It is a way of being, available to us anytime we choose to show up for it.