stop storing everything on your phone
respect your longing for the pursuit of creativity and create a personal altar
Do you have somewhere everything you love exists? Somewhere tangible you can escape to with objects and belongings you can pick up with your hands, feel the texture of, feel the potential of? Do you have somewhere in your home that could let a stranger work out what type of person you are just by looking at it? A creative lives here. A writers lives here. A painter lives here. A coder lives here. A florist lives here. A reader lives here. A seamstress lives here. Do you have somewhere that exudes your unique energy and special collections of interests? Somewhere that isn’t your phone?
Altars aren’t just for religions. There should be somewhere sacred in your home dedicated to the pursuit of joy, learning and growth. Perhaps it’s your dining table you’ve accidentally turned into an altar (see: me) and instead of placemats and cutlery, it’s a bullet journal and felt tip pens and washi tapes; it’s candles and Muji pens and potted plants; it’s the book you were annotating yesterday and the highlighters and sticky tabs sitting patiently next to it; it’s the sorry half-empty cold cup of tea you were drinking while encapsulated by that same book yesterday while the sun was making its way to bed.
It’s so much more than things on a table, it’s one of your energy sources. The sun, a lover, the moon, the quiet spot in the park, the independent shop with the incense, the bookshop in town, the dressing table, that section of the garden, the chair next to the window, the dining table turned altar.
In a world where nothing much is tangible anymore, where everything is 2D, in an invisible cloud and shielded by a glass wall, having a personal altar can ground us back to the earth, back to the reality we can feel with our fingertips, where words can make hearts beat faster and the inhalation of a crisp January morning can reset the entire body. Personal altars can remind us of how much beauty surrounds us each day, instead of what we lack in our wardrobes, fridges, coffee tables, Instagram grids and shopping baskets. And if you manage to place your altar next to a window, where the sun can come to visit and lay its head to rest on one of your unfinished paintings or crochet projects, or where the rain can provide the perfect backdrop to your reading under moonlight (and a soft lamp so you don’t strain your eyes of course), then that’s all the better. Give the natural world outside somewhere to visit on your altar too.
And this place should always be visible, you should have to pass it every day. You don’t always have to return the book to the bookshelf, the pen to the pot, the candle to the windowsill—these things should stay and linger, let these things linger forever in your peripherals on the altar as tiny reminders that they are always there for you, a space that you can trust will bring you solace each time you visit.
This space should not guilt you for leaving it for some time. You should be able to come to it with open arms, with a calming sigh, with a sense of embrace, because hobbies and interests and spaces for art and exploration do not expire, they do not pressure you to respond within 24 hours, they do not ping at you or make you feel guilty the longer you leave it. Things do not accumulate here like the notifications screen on your phone. You should not look at this space with guilt and pressure and dread. You should look at this space with love and feel a wash of joy over your heart. You should think: Look how creative I am, look at all the things that bring me joy, it looks so lovely I want to make time to sit in this space and bask in it like people do during picnics in the summertime.
Honour this space like you would a sacred altar. Every time you return to it, perhaps light a candle, bring life to the space with your energy and the heat and movement of a tender candle flame. Or maybe from the gentle heat emanating from a hot cup of tea or mug of coffee. Let this space know that its creator has entered and something beautiful is about to occur. A chapter or two of the book you’re working on, a new watercolour landscape, a new section of your crochet project, another couple of scenes of the storyboard for your next short film, whatever it is that makes you feel alive.
What is it that you think of when your day job has handed you too many bricks to place on your shoulders or the world around you starts to dim around the edges like a vignette, and you think, if only I could just do this all day. Whatever that is, respect that longing by dedicating a space in your home to it. Call it an altar. Make it sacred. And visit it often to recharge. Remember what makes you happy and honour the soul for it knows no time and all it wants is to feel alive.
hello quiet readers, thank you for reading today’s post, i hope you enjoyed it. i love looking over at my table and seeing all my interests sprawled all over it, it was one of my little joys during my monthly reflection pieces last week in fact! i thought an extended piece on this idea would be soothing to write about.
so what do we think about personal altars? do you have one or now thinking of creating one yourself? i also grew up catholic so a part of me is dealing with some religious guilt using this turn of phrase but i just think it’s so fitting. you don’t need to be religious to have sacred spaces. only you make the rules for your own life anyway.
also just a quick but huge thank you to those of you who have upgraded to a paid subscription. you have made me so so happy you’ll never know :’) i have a new series coming out involving journaling just for you starting this friday, so if you’d like to upgrade your subscription, you can do so below.
thank you again for reading, i hope you’re having a lovely week, and i’ll see you next wednesday <3
I’ve turned my room into a personal museum where you can immediately see who I am and what I’m interested in. Posters, figures, books, colors—they are all there representing me. I’ve also kept a little collection of birthday cards that I’ve received every year, so looking back on them shows me what kind of person I was at that age based on the messages.
I love this idea! My desk is my altar, covered with candles, my matchbook collection, odd little figurines, my vision board, stacks of books, flowers. It makes me feel more creative when I sit down to write!