I was pondering this thought: a sacred space doesn’t have to be a physical space.
A little bit of room in the day to release some thoughts into the ether.
And ask the rhetorical questions.
A few moments to flick water at a book and not care if you get ink splashes on your face.
Time to draw round the edges of that beige smeary paint. Because you like the sensation of pencil over grainy gesso. Also, just because.
These times the what and the why don’t matter. Only the doing matters. And the allowing the chance to do that matters most. This is a sacred space.