Where is your safe place? Meaning, where do you go when you’ve had enough for one day or when you’re depressed, hurt, broken-hearted, angry, or just need a break? For many people, it’s home, but where in your home? Do you have a place where you can shut out the world and be left alone?

Mine was always my bed. For as long as I can remember I have retreated to my bed to eat, hide, cry, scream into my pillow, and most of all… sleep. I can slip into bed at 6:00 pm on a terrible day and not wake up for over twelve hours. I have always been able to do this. Sleeping has been my secret weapon for hiding from people, passing the time when I was young and bored and waiting for a boy or friend to call, mending my broken heart after break-ups, or forcing my brain into an off position to stop relentless thoughts.

Despite all that rest, I have grown weary of sleeping my life away. I don’t want a place to hide, but instead a place to heal. I want a true safe place, one where I can go not to pass time or shut down, but to calm down.

For many people another comforting place, albeit very temporary, is the kitchen. That’s where the food is. Perhaps this is why A Course in Weight Loss calls for creating a safe place in Lesson 3. At times of struggle, our deepest desire isn’t really for food, “but for the experience of home,” Marianne Williamson writes. “Your deepest desire is not for food, but for love.” According to her, unconscious eating stems from a starvation of healthy self-love and the struggle to find it elsewhere.

If fear’s headquarters are our beds, kitchens, bars, etc., where are love’s headquarters?

Love’s headquarters exist at our altars, so it is important we create a place in our homes that remind us that love is the true power in our lives. This will provide us with a safe place to go when we are feeling afraid, sad, angry or ready to give up.

To create an altar in your home, consider what area of your home is best – a spare bedroom, a corner in the basement? It should be a place where you can have privacy, set up an altar, and sit comfortably. I am fortunate to have a home office, a room all my own.

Your altar should celebrate and support your willingness to love yourself and be healthy. Try not to get hung up on the word altar. By “altar” I mean only a table or flat-topped surface, such as an end table or board set on books, used as a place of focus for a ritual. And by ritual, anything goes: reflection, meditation, prayer, journal writing, reading…. any acts of love you perform for yourself. For example, my Happiness Jar sits on my altar. It is part of my ritual to write down my happiest moment from every day on a piece of paper, fold it up, and drop it into my jar.

Once you have identified a place in your home and selected your altar, place upon it beautiful and meaningful objects that remind you of the love you hope to bring to yourself and your spirit. Pictures, prayer books, statues, prayer beads, books, fresh flowers, your journal… anything that expresses your devotion to love and a more beautiful life. Nothing negative. You don’t want a picture of your ex-boyfriend here even if you still love him tremendously. This is a place for your most favorite things.

This is my altar and its contents:

My altar is an antique traveling trunk, a gift from my mother when I was a teenager. I store my sentimental items inside it. Atop the altar are scented candles: one was a gift from my brother and sister-in-law, purchased in Morocco, and it reminds me of them whom I love dearly, but also of adventure and travel; one represents love and smells of lemongrass; one is orange, representative of the sacral chakra where I carry the majority of my stress; the salt votive holder on the right is also for aiding my sacral chakra and is on (permanent?) loan from my dear friend, Kathy.

In front are two incense holders carved out of stone into elephants. The holders accommodate cones and sticks and I always burn it when I meditate/pray or spend any time before my altar. (Aromatherapy does wonderful things for the body and the scent of burning incense calms me immediately.) I adore elephants and consider them exceptional creatures. I also identify with them as my spirit animal so they are important to me. One was a gift from a dear friend whom I love very much, and the other I purchased for myself on a wonderful day, so it is associated with a lovely memory.

On the left is a water globe from my husband, which contains orange-hued trees and when you shake it, orange leaves swirl all around. I love autumn; the scents, the imagery, the weather, the foods, and this globe encapsulates all those sensations for me. It is also orange, which again is good for opening my sacral chakra.

In the center is a seated Buddha and to the right is a crying Buddha. The seated Buddha inspires me to be calm and still and to empty my mind, and also to respect the place I have created for myself. As for the crying Buddha, there are several legends and symbols. Common symbolism is that the Buddha weeps for all humankind, suffering from all the troubles in the world so that we do not have to. For me though it is also a reminder that someone even as strong and poised as the Buddha suffers, and it is okay to feel pain and to cry for this world we live in. Life is hard. In front of the crying Buddha is a small little novelty laughing Buddha. It makes me smile. No matter how still or calm I can become, I always want to cry into my hands… but also to laugh deep inside my belly. I also have a piece of rose quartz to trace over my face in times of need. It is said to help nurture and also to inspire love in one’s self and others. At the very least, it is calming. There is also a little angel stone that reminds me of my mother.

Behind the seated Buddha is my Happiness Jar, a collaged and decoupaged pickle jar that contains my happiest moment from every day. My mala (prayer beads) rests to the right of it on a small wooden carved elephant given to me by an employee I managed over twelve years ago. I do not remember her name, but I have kept it all this time. On the far left is my Buddha Board. You write on it in water and the words evaporate so what you write literally fades away, a visual that assists in letting go.

This is what those words looked like after less than a minute:

Although this altar has existed in my home half a year now, I am not in the habit of going to it when I am upset. In fact, I have avoided it at times of distress for fear of contaminating the space I have so lovingly created for myself. I realize only now this is ridiculous. It’s like buying a fancy car and only driving it when you’re dressed up. This space is magical for me and has everything I need to calm me and reinforce love in my life. With the help of Lesson 3 I see now that this is the safe place I have been lacking despite it being right in my home.

Marianne Williamson writes:

On any given day when you feel triggered, when you are deeply drawn to the ritualistic dance of self-hatred that is overeating [or drinking, smoking, etc.], you will have more power to resist if on that day you already experienced the power of your altar.

And if you haven’t already experienced its power, then go to it and allow it to fill you with love.

Also, please consider a donation to Save the Elephants and help save these majestic creatures.

Happy Easter and Passover to all those who celebrate! Although I am Catholic, I attended Good Friday mass at an Episcopalian church and today, I will be attending meditation practice at a Buddhist Sangha (spiritual community).

I have a very open mind when it comes to religion and spirituality. Raised Catholic, I received my sacraments in the Catholic Church, except for my marriage sacrament, which I received in a wonderfully welcoming Methodist church because the Catholic church my husband and I hoped to marry in was disappointingly difficult and unfriendly to work with. Before Christmas I attended the Episcopalian church for the first time and found the sense of community and touch of informality incredibly refreshing compared to the rigidity of the traditional Catholic services I was used to.

Several years ago on assignment from a Comparitive Religions course at Saint Joseph’s University, I chose to visit the Buddhist Sangha. I had no idea what to expect and was quite nervous, but with a tinge of excitement, too at experiencing something brand new. The sparse website instructed me to arrive 15 minutes early. During a brief introduction all those years ago, I would receive my first meditation lesson from an English scientist who practiced Buddhism. And in the basement of a Unitarian church, where the Sangha meets every Sunday evening, I would practice meditation for the first time. Although I felt incredible afterward, it would be years before I would practice again…

When I set out on this journey to become a more compassionate and gentler person, I had no backpack full of tools and books, nor any advance training. My anger and frustration was snuffing out my life so in one last act of desperation I walked out the door and started down this path with nothing more than a desire to change. It wasn’t until I had begun my journey that I began to recognize tools, pick up books, really listen to those who lived the life I wanted for myself, and start canceling out some of the noise. The constant path that weaved along mine, intersecting here and there freely, has been the path of Buddhism. Cracking the nut on my suffering, allowing the light in, has been the start of my awakening.

Contrary to popular belief, Buddhism is not a “religion” by the common application of the word; it is a living tradition. Buddhism is a practice. By practicing Buddhism, one practices compassion, acceptance, kindness and meditation in an effort to end suffering.

Two weeks ago I visited the Mongkoltepmunee Buddhist Temple in Bensalem, PA. Again, I was nervous, but excited. The website was sparse and terribly outdated. I knew there would be Tak Bart (almsgiving) so in my research I learned that meant I was to bring food to offer to the monks.

Walking into the Temple felt as if I had left the West. The gold statues of Buddha, the altars and flowers, the monks in their bright orange robes… Not one word of the entire four hour service was in English, and yet I felt welcome, just like I did when visiting the Sangha for the first time.

The Altar at the Mongkoltepmunee Buddhist Temple

The day before I visited the Temple, I was in Philadelphia near my favorite Cathedral, The Basilica of Saints Peter & Paul, where I attended mass almost weekly when my Mom was battling cancer. I knelt before Mary in the alcove dedicated to her and prayed.

As I knelt before a statue of Buddha the very next day (before the communal [and free] lunch comprised of the copious left-overs from the offerings to the monks), the contrast was not lost on me, nor was the similarity. In both cases, I knelt before a symbol of someone whom I revere and expressed my gratitude and prayed for guidance and blessings for my loved ones. (Kneeling before Buddha I also apologized for having no idea how to “pray” to him. I like to believe he found the whole thing humorous.)

There are so many similarities. At the beginning of Lent, it struck me that I was also in the midst of another 40 day long tradition, empowering my mala with my mantra. At mass on Friday, the Bishop delivered a wonderful sermon about the four pillars of faith. When he spoke of prayer, he explained that prayer is not talking, but listening. It is about paying attention, he said, being present and seeing what needs to be done. There he was, an Episcopalian Bishop, more or less explaining that prayer is meditation.

I am happy to be a Catholic who practices Buddhism and occasionally attends Episcopalian mass. It is what works for me. To me, it’s all about something bigger that gives us hope, love and guidance, and about trying to be a better person. I am going to use every tool I come across on this journey of mine in an effort to reach that end.

I encourage you to explore and check things out for yourself, even just from a comparative or curiosity standpoint. Apprehension is natural. But I assure you, your interest is welcome. Just attending is a sign of respect. Just do what everyone else does – you’ll catch on. For example, at the Episcopalian church, all the parishioners stand in a circle and give Communion to one another. At the Temple, a lovely Thai women led me by the hand into the kitchen and helped me to arrange my organic fruits onto a platter then led me to one of the monks, where I slid my offering before him with an awkward (unknowing) bow. She walked me around the Temple explaining a few things in broken English and guided me in some of the rituals, like when we poured water into tiny bowls in honor of one of the monk’s birthdays and then went outside in our stocking feet to pour it into the earth to symbolize life.

I do not intend to return to the Temple – the Sangha is more appropriate for what I am looking for. But I will say it was a wonderful experience and made me feel a little more traveled and experienced, despite only being 45 minutes from home. There are so many wonderful things to experience in our own backyards that may provide a sense of adventure or peace, perhaps even a Quaker or Franciscan retreat house. Explore and observe; see what works for you, even if it is a little of everything.

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