A young friend of mine is working on an assignment. She asked me to respond to a couple of questions about my living space, and it got me thinking…
I love where I live. I’m sure it wouldn’t be everyone’s first choice but it works very well for me. Aside from the convenience and security afforded by the situation, it is a happy space for me. I get to watch the sun rising over the mountains as I sit in my bed for my morning prayer. I have magnificent view of the Table Mountain range from my study.
My lounge is a sacred space too. It is a space where I get to have good conversations. Conversations with friends which last long into the night, over all sorts of things. Conversations with those who come for spiritual direction and supervision – which are much more focused.
I am not the kind of person who needs my living space to look ‘just so’. I have bought furniture that I like, and haven’t quite got around to hanging my pictures. And yet somehow my living space is my sanctuary. It is a place where I feel entirely myself.
There are other spaces in my life which I would consider sacred – being immersed in nature is always reviving for my spirit. And there are a few places which are deeply laded with particular memories – the Kolbe library and chapel, the chapel at Loyola Hall, the chapel at St Beuno’s. I am deeply appreciative of those spaces, and the memories associated with them.
But for now, I am most grateful that my home provides me with such a sanctuary: A space both of retreat and of rich encounter.