The Sacred Alter of my Bed

I have a new religion this year, I am the Goddess, and my bed is my temple. I resolve to adore myself, sleep long hours, eat delicious food and always follow my heart. I will be unchanged by those around me. I will know that I can worship and create regardless of the desires and beliefs of others. I understand that the god I have been looking for has always been inside of me and the things I have always wanted are well within my reach.

My mother used to sing a song to me,

“By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon.

And a thousand pikes were flashing, by the rising of the moon.

All along that singing river, that black mass of men was seen

High above their shining weapons flew their own beloved green.

Death to every foe and traitor, whistle out the marching tune

and hoorah me boys for freedom. Tis the rising of the moon.

Tis the rising of the moon, tis the rising of the moon

And Hoorah me boys for freedom tis the rising of the moon.”

-Song title “BY THE RISING OF THE MOON” written by the DUBLINERS

My mother played the Banshee, warning me that those who were not prepared to fight in this world would end up slaves to it. She handed me a proverbial sword the day I was born and each night she took it out from under my pillow to sharpen it. I have been born from centuries of war. I am the culmination of warriors, anarchists, freedom seekers and poets. Their blood boils in me when I hear political disputes on the television or have a difference of opinion with a stranger in the store. Why am I still fighting wars that began with the beginning of mankind? Why do I still think that it is impossible for me to believe what I believe if there is someone in my vicinity that believes something different.

For decades I have been fighting for my own survival and freedom. This year I resolve to end the war. I will end the war against myself. I will end the war against different opinions.

I knelt at the sacred alter of my bed. I offered up my weapons of war to the earth. I visualized the steel of my sword going back to the dirt that it came from. I saw in my minds eye my mother. I understood her. I understood that she too had been bred for the wars of men. I saw that she had taught me the things she considered most sacred. And for that I thanked her and kissed her forehead. She had loved me, that had been enough. I rose from my knees and crossed to my dresser. I picked up a pen and paper. I wrote down every fear I had ever had.

“I am not very smart. I am difficult to love. I am a coward. I shy away from the unknown. I Lie. The greatest written word has already been written. I have no purpose. I wasted the best years of my life. Its too late for me. I am caged by the choices I have made. I am stuck in this dark place. I would do it, if I didn’t have so many others to take care of. I disapprove of you. You are wrong. You are holding me back. You don’t like me. Your behavior makes me unhappy. You don’t want me. You disapprove of me.”

Tears fell from my eyes, these weapons had been used against people I loved, people I didn’t know, people I had wanted to help. These weapons had held me prisoner and had tortured me from within a self-made cage.

I set down my pen and began to fold the paper. In halves, and in halves again until the weak piece of paper had become something strong. I took it and placed it in a glass jar and set the jar upon a mat of cork. I poured wax from a burning candle across the folded paper and then I lit it on fire. It didn’t burn up quickly, the density of the paper held the flames at bay. But heat persisted and a small flame smoldered on the edge of the paper. A beautiful leg of smoke twisted and turned its way around the jar until it found its way out. The smell caught in my nose. It burned, but the aroma was healing balm to my soul. I went to my bed to lie down. I could still see the flame and the leg of smoke making its way around my room. My mind reached for the list, beginning to unfold the paper so that we could ruminate on its contents as we had every night in this bed for decades. I saw a gentle hand reach for the paper blocking it from my mind’s objective. A soft voice spoke from within me. “Leave it be. You are kept from the unknown by focusing on the known.” The words rang in my stomach, they were true. I guided my mind away from reopening the contents of the list. Instead, we, the distracted part of my mind and the focused part of my mind, gazed at the small flame.

I sat there in the silence breathing deeply. Each muscle in my body gave way to relaxation. The place where my body met the bed became unnoticeable. I was high, drugged by the smoke in the room. But instead of the calming numbness that can be solicited by drugs, I felt connection. Not to the earth but to a stream of wellbeing that existed inside of me and around me. It was white and yellow, it was warm and soft. Touching it sent pleasure and joy tingling throughout my body. Human words cannot describe the feeling well. I spent hours watching the flame entranced.

I would like to say that moment transformed me, and from then on, I lived without fear. I was not transformed but rather a transformation began. My bed is becoming a sacred alter where negative thoughts are not permitted.

When I wake in the morning, I try to wake slowly. Instead of begrudging the morning I try to meet it with gratitude. Gratitude for the comfort of my bed. Gratitude for the weight and warmth of my blankets. Gratitude for the coolness of my room.

I try to spend my day dreaming of good and beautiful things. I will not worry about the political climate here in my country. For I have no magistrate. I believe that kindness and love are the strongest governing forces in this world. Instead of attending city council meetings and writing letters to my senators I will attend high school basketball games. I will read at the school with first graders. I will pick up trash on my morning walks. I will stop in the store to remind a person that they have value. I will open my home to share a meal with a stranger.

I used to go to bed angry and wake up scared. No more. Each night I go to bed is a wonderful, comfortable opportunity to reflect on all the good things I see, feel and want. I wake up each day excited to see what adventure is in store for me.

My newfound faith makes me feel powerful. I no longer wait for someone to answer my prayers, because I have the answers I need. I no longer worry about the salvation of others. When I meet people, I feel no need to change them, making it so easy to love who they are. And OH, does it feel good to love. I think right now I will set aside my computer and make a pilgrimage to my holy temple. I will nap on the sacred alter of my bed. For upon waking, I plan to love myself, the earth and people more than ever.