What is Sacred?

Savoring the moment of dreamy ease upon waking, before the awareness of achy joints and the day’s “to do” list streams in.

The reliable gift of morning light.

The pastel pink of a winter sunrise.

The way Frida rests at the window, her furry arm perched casually on the ledge.

Watching Frida watch the world is sacred.

The first sip of freshly ground coffee— hints of cinnamon and cream.

The corner nook in the backyard where birds gather on lilac limbs and bees pause for a sip at the fountain.

Tender shoots rising miraculously from the thawing earth.

The way winter melts into spring.

The way my beloved’s eyes tear up during an episode of The Voice, the way he is easily moved by music and touched by courageous tenderness. The way his eyes hold that same emotional honesty when he looks at me.

A jar bursting with cheerful tulips— ivory, amethyst, and tangerine

The gift of fresh eggs is sacred.

The soothing rhythm of a sleeping cat’s purr.

The majestic span of a hawk in flight. The intelligent way it finds ease in the thermals. Graceful and powerful all at once.

The offering of a feather is sacred. The way it whispers hope along the path of uncertainty.

Trust. Trusting ourselves. Trusting another. Vulnerability is sacred.

A river of words. An ocean song. The depth of a lake. Clarity in a spring.

The ancient wisdom of rocks and trees. Grounded. Rooted. Rising. Watchful.

Impermanence is sacred— beauty and seasons and the transient sky.

Writing the truest thing. Sharing those truths around a large wooden table.

Planting seeds of intention.

Singing and humming and dancing and drumming. Just because.

This moment, this breath, this page. Sacred.

12 minutes of unfiltered writing inspired by THIS prompt from my dear friend and writer, Nan. Join us in writing into this prompt. I'd love to hear what is sacred to you.

Wrenna Rose2 Comments