Sacred Sunday

A brownie for breakfast solves a lot of things.

Sunday is often recognized as a sacred day — of rest, prayer, connection... Some gather for church services, runners call it church of the long run, there are yoga classes advertised as yoga church, my United Kingdom home collectively gathers for Sunday Roast (dinner, that is)…

While the action and output — the main text — is as unique and nuanced as the culture and individual, the sentiment — the subtext — is usually similar. Recharge, refuel, reconnect — to the sacred in spirit, in community, in yourself… Reset. 

Whether religion/spiritual- or hobby/interest-driven, or maybe even dictated by weekly schedule practicalities, sacred Sunday is a timely, self-determiend, and self-supporting practice that naturally evolves and shifts through seasons. Maybe your “Sunday” isn’t even on a Sunday. All that really matters is your presence to what’s there — attuning and responding.

My sacred Sunday is a morning of small gestures. Sometimes I’m fortunate to stay in bed on my own, a room service breakfast brownie enthusiastically delivered by my littles with a side of snuggles, a mini retreat. Even as the particulars are always shifting, pen to paper is my practice anchor — and responding to what comes up in whatever way I can is my prayer of honoring myself and where I’m at.

Permission granted: rest easy
Space to see what's there — 
How do I feel?
Really

Being still
Quiet envelopes
Then
The breathing
forward folding
feeling feet and earth
beneath sky(light)
Sitting, noticing
Words to paper
Tea hot
Relief — the clearing
Sweetness

Sacred Sunday
My practice is my prayer
And I reenter the world
Renewed 

A brownie for breakfast solves a lot of things.

What’s your prayer — your honoring of yourself on Sacred Sunday?