Finding Sacred in the Ordinary

Or what yoga and evening television time have in common in our family

A white wave snakes through the blue and teal poofs of color daubed on a styrofoam block. The block hangs from the ceiling, among similar blocks, fluorescent lights, and structural supports. The steady pounding of someone on a treadmill the next room over sets a rhythm. I focus on the wave, blinking, trying to keep my leg up in tree pose. I breathe in and out as steadily as I can, trying to connect my mind and body so they work together instead of conflict. Finally, the teacher says, “And down slowly…” I sigh a breath of relief as I lower my arms and leg.

Where I take yoga isn’t a usual yoga studio. It’s a room in one of my city’s community centers. The blocks hanging from the ceiling and walls are the only form of decoration, a display created by a local artist. The room is also used for lifeguard training (as the TV on the corner that was left on reminded us) and dry land practice for the swim team.

I honestly like it better than most yoga studios. Besides the fact that it’s much cheaper, it feels more inclusive and accessible. There’s a wider variety of ages, races, and body types than you find at a stereotypical studio.

But more subtly, the ordinary atmosphere reminds me that anywhere can be sacred. You don’t need fancy decorations, bells, or expensive specialty clothing. (One of my classmates sometimes wears a large button-down shirt.) Instead of focusing on the external, the more pragmatic environment demands that we focus on the internal to shift from ordinary to sacred.

The transformation of gym into yoga studio simply comes when we put our mats down. Our presence and attention, coming together to “show up on our mat” as our teacher says, is what makes it special.

When I remember that in yoga class, it’s easier for me to apply that principle to the rest of my life too. Sometimes, making something special isn’t about the extras so much as a matter of showing up and honoring the moment. Making the time and space to just be by yourself or with those you love. It’s so hard but also worth it. Deep connection can’t come about when we’re constantly distracted or driven to produce.

Of course, this will differ from family to family. For some families like us, dinner together is sacred. For others, dinner may not be doable, but they have other special family time. My friend Ashia has specific time before bedtime with their kids.

For some people, it may be quiet and peaceful and for others, it may involve making a lot of joyful noise. Personally, I can’t meditate sitting still. I do it best walking, while using my senses to take in what is around me. My walks are sacred to me - but that doesn’t mean they would be for all or even most people.

In addition, what is sacred to our families will change over time and even change from day to day. When the kids were younger, reading together was sacred time. Now that they’re older, we still read, but we also watch TV together. We just finished watching Steven Universe, which we all loved so much. Sharing these stories is a way for us to bond, no matter what form they’re in.

But just because any moment can be sacred doesn’t mean that every moment should or can be sacred. If you try to make everything “special,” nothing is. It’s like trying to sprint a marathon - you’ll just end up exhausted and burnt-out. If you expect every single thing to be special, you’ll ruin what could otherwise be good with disappointment of it not meeting some made-up, unrealistic standard. (And by you, I mean me. These essays are reminders to myself as much as reflections to help others.) In theory, washing dishes can be a sacred act of service to the people who will eat off of them. Perhaps you are the type of person to find peace in that chore. But personally, I’m exhausted by the end of the day and it takes so much effort to do the dishes at all, much less be mindful about it. I shove on my headphones and listen to tabletop roleplaying groups pretend they are in the most exciting adventures, thank you very much.

Even when a moment is sacred one time doesn’t mean it will or even should be every time. Some bedtimes will have moments of deep conversatiotn, shared laughter and beautiful bonding. Other bedtimes will be terrible because everyone is cranky and too spun up to go to sleep. Holding these expectations loosely can help us be more flexible and roll with the punches - something I struggle with a lot!

Finding the sacred in the ordinary can help us step out of our own heads and the awfulness that surrounds us right now. There are two things I believe help get us through difficult times - community and wonder at the world around us. The sacred can help us connect with either of them or both.

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