As I prepare for next week's Altar Making Workshop, I've been asking myself this question: what's the importance of sacred space? I know that without my mini-altars, I feel unsettled, not at ease. But why?

When I moved to San Francisco one year ago, I found myself in a cozy (read: tiny!) apartment in the heart of the city, with no space for my meditation cushion or a small, permanent altar. I felt slightly panicked. I've always had a space, even if just a corner, to dedicate to my sitting practice and a home for my sacred objects - stones, pictures, a talisman, quotes, photographs, feathers.

Pulling my meditation cushion from behind a chair, digging for a candle and matches and finding a quiet space to sit felt tedious. Not exactly the experience I was going for. It wasn't long before I realized I was the one making the experience tedious.

Change is in the air! Many members of my community are birthing new things, from babies to projects to new family structures. The energy feels full of possibility. Old identities and roles are melting away and new ways of being are emerging.

Transition is a powerful time - it's the pregnant pause between letting go of one role and stepping into something new. If given attention and space, transitions can be full of magic and possibility. There's often an impulse to rush through transitions -

Recently, looking for inspiration I pulled out my Faeries’ Oracle deck (by Brian Froud and Jessica Macbeth). The faerie cards always bring a smile to my face and a twinkle to my eye. They are beautiful, full of magic and mischief, and always have wisdom and healing to share. They remind me to lighten up and not take myself (or others) too seriously. They inspire me to be true to myself, live a life of love and to play. They connect me to the little girl in me who believed in magic and faeries.

Imagine my surprise when I drew card #53: