sacred spaces

in my senior year philosophy class, we got to talk about sacred spaces -- places that you associate memories with, or even places you just keep coming back to because it holds a special meaning to your life.

in college, the bench was my sacred space (one which i shared with good friends.) it was where so much went on--reviewing for tests (or cramming, even), preparing for orals, copying homework, spilling juicy chikas, sharing lovelife tidbits (yes, whether good or bad), and just plain hanging out with friends you're going to keep for the rest of your life. now, when you say college, the fixture that automatically pops in my head is that bench. it isn't really different from all the other benches around the campus, but what makes it special is that it was ours. we didn't own it, and neither do the ones occupying it now, but what we can rightfully call ours are the memories built around the bench. we flocked to it like moths to a flame every free time, and it was really like a hub for the years we had the right to call it, "our bench." i was quite possessive of it, if truth be told and unwelcome guests always heard something from me because it felt like somebody was trespassing. it wasn't a physical kind of trespassing, though, but more of a personal intrusion, like having to open your world to a stranger. if things were to be reversed, it's probably the feeling you get when you're walking around a campus you don't belong to--you know you don't look any different, but somehow, you feel as though everybody knows you're not one of them.

sacred spaces abound when one is in love: "this is where we first had coffee," "this is where he proposed," "this is where she said 'yes'." and the thing with these sacred spaces is that they remain sacred even when others create their own memories around it. thus, that corner table by the window where one guy proposed could also be that corner table by the window where one couple had their first date. yet regardless of how many beautiful memories are created, the sacred space remains to be unique to a person, to a couple, because the experience is their own.

lately, i've been thinking about sacred spaces in the context of a love gone wrong. what, then, becomes of it? isn't this a dilemma of most people coming out of a relationship--not visiting places they used to frequent as a couple, not watching the movies they loved to watch over and over again (because, of course, those, while beyond the realm of the physical, are sacred spaces, too)? memories are easily triggered by familiar fixtures, and even by scents--now it isn't only that couch by the corner but also the smell of freshly brewed coffee that reminds one of that first date that, unfortunately, didn't translate to a second.

i don't know, really. but for me, the sacred spaces i have remain as they are. only that they are not seen with the same level of affection, nor nostalgia. at first, these sacred spaces were dealt with bitterness, with hurt, even. but as time allows for healing and personal growth that comes with the realization that moving on is the only remedy to being broken, these sacred spaces are then dealt only with a strange kind of fondness. i say 'strange' because the fondness is not about wanting to bring the past back, but being grateful for it. there is acknowledgement that the past made us stronger than who we were before.

i believe we're always in the process of creating sacred spaces. and while we look outwardly at the ones we create around the physical, there are also hidden sacred spaces, tucked deep into the relationships we have with friends, family, and the ones we get to call, the love of our life. these are, i would say, the hidden beauty we can rightfully claim, uniquely ours.