When we say goodbye to a loved one who passed on, we fall silent in the face of death’s finality. There is something sacred about a soul departed—peaceful, dignified, and surrendered.
Between our existence defining moments of birth and death, we consider most things ordinary, part of living—nothing sacred about that.
But that may not be the case. Let me share a simple example with you.
In the evening, my partner and I perform a series of neck stretches. The time and pace varies from day to day, but it’s a 5 minute routine that on the surface appears mundane.
Lately I’ve been thinking: How many people out of the billions alive today are doing what we’re doing? What are the chances of them doing the same moves, in the same sequence, at the same time?
Even if they did all of that, which is highly unlikely, they can’t be in the same place, wearing the same clothes, thinking the same thoughts.
No one is doing what I’m doing in this moment, the same way, under the same circumstances.
This means life is experiencing this moment through me in a very different way from anyone else.
Beneath the surface
On the surface, most actions look the same—walking, stretching, going to the bathroom, eating, or breathing—and the thing that we once thought was amazing (think of a toddler trying to walk for the first time), loses its luster and feels normal.
But there is nothing ordinary about anything we do.
Everything is sacred if we realize that we’re the only ones doing it—our time, our effort, our way.
This expression of life happens only once, and then it’s gone.
Every act, thought, or feeling manifests only once. It’s born, and then it’s gone. One of a kind experience for all of life. What’s not sacred about that?
The word sacred originated from devotion. We can consider everything we do and experience as a form of devotion to life.