from where we sit

recovering a sofa may seem a bit of a shallow enterprise right now with everything that's going on in the world, so let me tell you more about this particular couch.

it was gifted to me by a friend who was downsizing just as i was moving into my first apartment.  she passed away soon afterwards, and i remember her act of generosity every time i sit down to read or simply hold a steaming mug of coffee.

over the years it has come to represent a sacred space of hospitality where tears are shed, declarations are made, and hearts are poured out freely.  it has been used both as a scratching post for disobedient cats and a bounce house of sorts by energetic kids.  all of which made it very, very special and very, very un-aesthetically appealing to say the least.

every time i swore i was finally going to get rid of it for a new model, someone would literally say, "but you can't get rid of that couch; that's where we laugh, cry, and solve problems, and it's sooo comfortable!"  so i gave it new life instead.

and isn't that what each and every moment of the day invites us to do; give it new life?  realizing that fear and love cannot both inhabit the same place invites me to choose love, creating capacity and sacred space for listening.  with the kettle on at home, but also at the gas station, in the hallway at work, or in the bread aisle of the grocery store.

so this feels like an absolutely ideal time to re-upholster, as it were, from the outside-in regarding the couch, and from the inside-out in terms of bringing loving presence to each interaction.

while this doesn't mean we will never feel the human emotion of fear, designed to keep us safe, it does mean we don't have to let it take over.  i choose to practice giving that place to love moment by moment, day by day.  and from where i sit on these couch pillows, that is a hopeful prospect.

what tangible items serve as symbols of sacred space to you and how might you choose love over fear today wherever you go?