In the City: Sacred Space

By Melantha

Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,

Every one let’s forth his sprite

In the church-way paths to glide.

And we faeries, that do run

By the triple Hecate’s team

From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,

Now are frolic. Not a mouse

Shall disturb this hallowed house.

I am sent with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

- Robin Goodfellow, Act 5, Scene 1

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I listen to Loreena McKennitt’s The Book of Secrets (1), the sound of her music filling me as I type, my mind still drifting to all the preparations I have made in the past few weeks. Outside the weather is as it is, both rain and shine, and I smile to myself -- it will be Midsummer soon, and despite the presence of rain here in our little corner of the world, the rest of the globe celebrates the height of the sun, the time when Faery opens its gates.

I don’t feel the slightest bit daunted; after all, walking through running water is said to be the surest way to the Other Realm, and if rain running down in imitation of waterfalls is not enough, then at least, a walk in a storm will be refreshing.

In the city, I fall into what I feel is best: a routine that is mostly improvisation on my part. I regroup on physical, emotional and spiritual levels in the manner that has been my preference for nearly ten years. I move around my room as if nothing is amiss, passing my hands over the hints of my spirituality. The trinkets scattered about my room, the books that adorn my shelves, the music that plays from my stereo, my CDs sitting in stacks. I arrange my books, my things. I clean and fix. And maybe, I sit down to work on scrapbooks or write in my creative journal. I play on the piano and listen to music. I begin.

Faery is present in my room: in the little figurines that watch me while I sleep at night, in my copy of Shakespeare’s comedy, in the fantasy books that would be easily dismissed as personal interests. Intermingled with all of these, my Craft is hidden in plain sight: the boxes of both my Arthurian (2) and Faery (3) tarot decks displayed beside school textbooks, poetry collections, and my Lord of the Rings DVDs. My wand is mounted over my corkboard, – a branch, now sanded and smooth, once a discard from a great big tree. I set new pictures in my frames, they are in line with the coming festival: the Fae and the sun, and all things that glow with the might of the God as Midsummer is when the bright sphere is longest and strongest. My runes are set in little containers in the guise of pretty crystals that I bought in the spur of the moment at the GreenHills tiangge. My candles, each of odd shapes, designs and sizes, are set scattered around, available should the need come.

I surround myself and I am there, in the presence of that which is blessed.

This is my sacred space; this is my little makeshift chapel to the universe and all things divine. This is my altar, with I as one of the pieces set upon it. Outside, I am, as anyone else would be: a random face in the crowd, putting in eight-hours of work in the five days set between the day of the Sun and Saturn. I ride the train with music plugged into my ears or a book distracting me as I commute home.

I do not look “the part” as some have said, but then I have never looked it, choosing instead to carry on as I have. A modern witch, one that fancies herself as both visible and invisible in the crowd, calling attention only when need be.

Sacred Space is as flexible as we allow it to be, and it may just be me, but we have more of it than we know. My room is the most permanent, yet it is not the only one that I have, as my bags tend to be a “mobile” sacred space as I go around the metro: in malls and restaurants, at school or on the train. I bring things with me, my cards are snug in a denim pouch that sits in my bag patiently until they are needed. The trinkets which I don have seen rituals both in my mind and the rare times that I have opted to in the physical realm.

I create my space, and that -- though lacking the “glamour” of fireworks and otherworldly beings -- is magic; just as blending chocolate, milk, water with a murmur of TLC and love can be both a potent potion and spell to cure your best friend’s post-breakup blues.

Utilizing all that is available at one’s fingertips and being creative with these things has proven effective for other practitioners, and consequently friends, who run on the famous (or should I say infamous) “Manila-time.” We are constantly on the move: meeting deadlines at work, seeing to school activities, doing homework; making dates or simply falling back into bed at three in the afternoon just to make up for the time that seems to slip us by.

Little details such as pressing a flower with yellow petals (intellect) as a bookmark to help with that test on Tuesday, or tying an orange ribbon (or hair-tie) on the end of your pencil to coax inspiration for that project proposal you want to pitch for that Friday meeting -- these are spellwork and witchcraft at it’s cleverest level.

It is as Terry Prachett says in his fantasy novel that won my heart two summers ago: “It doesn’t stop being magic just because you know how it’s done.”

Everything and anything has a potential to be a link to magick. Your glass is your cup, your pencil your wand or sword; your preference as you please. In the end, it is all truly up to you to make it happen. It is all up to you to see that magick and its will be done.


Footnotes:
1 – Loreena McKennitt is a Canadian New Age musician and is known for incorporating Celtic, Eastern and other such music. You may have come across her single, The Mummers’ Dance, which talks about the old druid practice.
2 – Legend: The Arthurian Tarot deck, a Christmas gift from my parents in ’04.
3 – Brian Froud’s Faery Oracle, a gift from my best friend in ’03.

McKennitt’s CDs are a little hard to find, but can be sourced through Tower Records or Music 1, and the tarot/oracle decks may be found in either Power Books or Fully Booked (check for stock).


About the Author: MELANTHA has been practicing Wicca for a little over thirteen years and has been officially out of the ‘broom closet’ for a little over eight. She practices an eclectic mix of Faery, Music and Celtic magick, and is always open to new insights and whatever forms the Goddess and God may send them. She offers guidance and camaraderie as both mentor and friend to those who ask and wants nothing more than to dance in the rain and sleep in on Sundays when no demands are made of her. Her creative outlets are dance, music and writing, and she incorporates these into her spellwork. She dreams one day of teaching Tolkien or mythology, researching the Green Man phenomenon and to travel what she can of the world.

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