Blessed be the Fruit

sacred /ˈseɪkrɪd/ adjective

 “Connected with God or a god or dedicated to a religious purpose and so deserving veneration; regarded as too valuable to be interfered with; sacrosanct.”

Whether your definition of the word tends more towards the religious or the secular, you almost certainly already practice the art of creating ‘sacred’ space: whether it’s huddling quietly over a hot brew in the morning, a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you, getting out for a walk or a jog, gleefully sliding your phone’s airplane mode on, going to church on Sundays, or staring into space with a cigarette, we all know how important it is to give life the middle finger sometimes, and just have a breather.

Yoga is the art not just of creating but expanding this sacred space: the space within our bodies, our minds, and eventually off the mat in our wider lives. What makes yoga so powerful is that it is not just about space creation, but space maintenance, as we learn to protect our inner peace from intrusion or interference amidst the tumult of daily life. To practice is to actively tend and keep that space, and to make a commitment to its preservation, as we would with any living creature in our care. Sacred space is the one place we can live for ourselves alone, and without it, we risk letting the life of our own story expire.

Yet by exploring, defining, strengthening, and cultivating this space, we can deeply nourish the quality of our life experience. Like the artist, we first have to acquire, then master, clean, and carefully store our tools, brushes, and paints. Like the marathon runner, we must first train our bodies, regulate our efforts, and fuel our muscles correctly. Like the chef, we must sharpen our knives, keep our surfaces clean, and learn to combine ingredients with keen discrimination, careful balance, and love.

So too the yogin must prepare her laboratory of self-discovery, inside and out. With attentiveness, daily she observes the current state of her body and mind; with discipline, she regularly applies the tools of movement and breathing, strengthening what is weak, lifting whatever is low, and polishing what is dull; with patience, silently she watches herself unfold and expand, not struggling against any knots, but rather working with them, kindly and gently.

Whether the hermit in a Himalayan cave, the President of the United States, mother, father, son or daughter, soldier, sailor, tinker or tailor, we all need a sacred space in which to either pray, or simply ask for a goddamned break from it all. Once we’re there, yoga teaches us not just how to scrub the canvas of the mind clean, but how to adorn it with the artistry of positive life experiences. On the mat, we cleanse, release, and expand our space, so that off the mat we can protect, defend, and guide it towards the fruits of our most treasured labours. Taking time out for ourselves each day allows us to live with less frustration, less anxiety, less weight, and to move with more alacrity, more ease, and more confidence, in this beautifully frustrating, mysteriously exciting world.

This is why we practice.