The Sacred” is a tricky phrase because it sounds singular. And, in deep creativity, it is in no way meant to be so. However, it sounds a bit funny if we say “the sacreds”—and by “the sacreds” we mean pretty much everything.
Perhaps this distinction will help. Deep creativity is archetypal. It acknowledges that there are universal and recognizable patterns within the psyche. The Sacred, as such, is archetypal. In all cultures in all places during all periods of history, there is a sense of the Sacred, though what those cultures define as sacred may vary. Thus, there is the Sacred and the sacreds. And all three of us, in our own way, attempted to widen the field in which divinity can be found—to release “the sacreds” from churches or synagogues or temples back into the everyday world. To release “the sacreds” from prescribed acts of worship back into the simplest of daily tasks. The writer and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his work Self-Reliance and Other Essays, said this simply and brilliantly: “To the poet, to the philosopher, to the saint, all things are friendly and sacred, all events profitable, all days holy, all men [and women too!] divine.”
As we embrace the path of deep creativity, we embrace the idea that there is something inherently sacred about the act of creating. Deep creativity is receptive, and at every turn we open ourselves up to the possibility of a sacred encounter. This sacredness is not tied to any particular dogma or set of beliefs. This sacredness is not adjoined to any agenda. This sacredness is simply the acknowledgment that art holds the ability to take us toward the mysterious, unknowable aspects of our existence. And to bring the mysterious, unknowable aspects of our existence toward us.
Deep creativity asserts that our relationship with the Divine is not one-sided. Deep creativity is participatory, and we participate with the Universe, with the Source, with the Force, with the gods and goddesses and muses, with nature, with whatever we deem as divine. We move closer to the Sacred in our creative endeavors, and the Sacred moves closer to us. If we’re so blessed, we end up transformed, our work a little more divine through the encounter, because deep creativity is alchemical. But it is not always a smooth landing. At times, we feel the Sacred arrive as a gentle and soft breeze, caressing our heart until it slowly unfolds in creative expression. These are moments of grace, of softening, of visitation. At other times, we feel cracked open by a strong, stormy gust of wind, shaking our heart until we have no choice but to create something, anything, in an attempt for some modicum of relief. These are moments of shock, of awakening, of realization. These are the moments when we are knocked from our horse, to use Dennis’s powerful analogy. But being on the ground and horseless is a state from which we are forced to get real, to strip down and to question how we are to move and to where and with whom.
As we breathe these sacred encounters out into our creative work, our art then stands in homage to something greater than ourselves. As Jennifer writes, “We act with reverence, and we take action on behalf of what and who we revere.” A close friend once shared with me that the most sacred experience of her entire life was a sexual encounter. She produced dozens of ghastly beautiful paintings from those few hours of lovemaking. And each painting, she confided, was an act of worship. Each one was a sincere and ardent offering to what she described as her most “holy encounter with the Divine.” Standing in front of those paintings, I felt as if I was standing in a temple. Quiet and bewildered. Sacred encounters can inspire us to make art. But making art can also become our sacred encounter—the way in which we worship, pay homage, and experience our own divinity and the divinity all around us. Because deep creativity is ensouled, breathing out the sacred is soulmaking, our souls taking part in the divine process of creation.