Gratitude Altar

I’ve never wanted to have an altar. I’ve had it recommended to me many times by friends and teachers alike but the idea never appealed to me. I have neither gods nor gurus, crystals nor other sacred objects to place up it. I do not engage in prayer. And, even if I had all these things, even if I prayed, I do not have the space.

But then, one morning, I felt a gratitude that moved me so deeply that I found myself yearning to make an offering of thanks, an obeisance for the gift I had received.

I lit a stick of incense and placed it in front of me at my small writing desk to let it burn while I wrote my morning pages.*

“Whom am I thanking?” I wondered. My ancestors for giving me the body and life that made possible the experience I was giving thanks for. The laws of the universe, for bringing existence, with all its countless wonders, miracles, beauty and gifts, into existence.

Are they represented in the space before me? My ancestors, yes. Ashes of my father, grandmother and grandfather are contained in small urns that have had their place at my desk for many years now. The universe, yes. My desk sits in front of a window that looks out into my garden, where I can see daily evidence of nature’s wonder in the plants, animals, sun, moon and sky.

At this window, at this small desk, for over a decade I has sat nearly every day with my tarot cards, my journals, my sorrow, my fear, my anger, my dreams, my nightmares. There is prayer I suppose in my laying down of cards, in my writing. And now there is incense and a ritual practice of giving thanks.

I believe I may have space for an altar after all.

*The practice of writing morning pages comes from The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron.