Thalia rummaged through tees, clubs, mitts, cleats, and darts. “Doesn’t she have a bowling ball?” Calliope and Urania shook their heads from left to right. “Bowling slippers?” Thalia persisted. “They’re called shoes,” Nia replied. “And, no. Not those either.”
My sacred place is the front living room. Everyone enters the house from the mud room door on the driveway side. My house sits 213 years old at an angle on the lot. This was once the last place in town. There’s still a 200 acre farm on the side with a beautiful red barn. My house was the original General Store when horse drawn carriages, horses with wagons and such were the only transportation. Until 1878 when the railroad moved in a mile away, taking all the stores with it. Across from the house used to be a huge building which had 100 employees who made and fixed carriage and wagon wheels. The land to the west of it was all part this farm originally. Behind the house on the driveway side was a tavern and a silversmith. There are pieces of foundation that poke up all around. Especially going down to the river.
The front living room has double doors that open to the front porch. My front garden beds are right there. In the summer my sacred place moves to the front porch wicker chaise lounge.
I like to think of it that way, Gail. My knee is coming along S-L-O-W-L-Y, so please don't challenge to me to any bowling tournaments in the near future, lol. But I'm glad you had fun!
Bowling sounds like fun; I hope you enjoyed yourself. It's been ages since I went. I agree with some of the others that my home is my sacred space--it fits my introvert nature. 😊
Fun adventure forthcoming! Iterative bowling shoes rentals? Yeah, a bit unseemly. My dad bowled with a group of men from the factory where he worked. Averaged about 210. So as a kid my brother and I walked to the bowling alley about a mile from our home as members of a league. The "you've got a lot to learn league." Other adult "old men," about 35 or 40, were serious bowlers. They'd roll strike after strike like machines! And grumble about spares.
I know you and the Muses will have a blast this afternoon. How could you not? Just one prying question: is this the variation where scores aren't recorded? If asked how you did, then saying "I don't remember," could be technically true. That way you can fully enjoy the game. So what if an inadvertant hook at the end jumps the rails into the adjacent alley and scores a strike? A strike is a strike. Is there a Muse for Muses bowling?
“What if our sacred space is inside of us… and we can take it wherever we go?” -Typist
I would submit, all the evidence required for the understanding of the truth of this question lies below in the description Sharon so gracefully provided for all of us to experience…
What she wrote, came from inside of her, but was expressed externally with words that created pictures for our minds to interpret.
Life is indeed both a gift 🎁 AND beautiful 🤩
My sacred place lives within me. It expresses itself in the form of insatiable curiosity and wonder.
What I “see” is a literal interpretation of what lives within me. We are the culmination of all our lived experiences and we see from this place…
Even some our favorite quotes and phrases are interpretations of what we “see” as truth.
My sacred place is the front living room. Everyone enters the house from the mud room door on the driveway side. My house sits 213 years old at an angle on the lot. This was once the last place in town. There’s still a 200 acre farm on the side with a beautiful red barn. My house was the original General Store when horse drawn carriages, horses with wagons and such were the only transportation. Until 1878 when the railroad moved in a mile away, taking all the stores with it. Across from the house used to be a huge building which had 100 employees who made and fixed carriage and wagon wheels. The land to the west of it was all part this farm originally. Behind the house on the driveway side was a tavern and a silversmith. There are pieces of foundation that poke up all around. Especially going down to the river.
The front living room has double doors that open to the front porch. My front garden beds are right there. In the summer my sacred place moves to the front porch wicker chaise lounge.
Button: “Pizza. Square box. Round pizza. Triangle slices. I’m confused.” 😁
Not sure as I have a sacred space, alas. Not much of a spiritual person, alas. ☹️
Wait! Yes, my sacred space would be Home, and Home is where Deb is! 😊
I like to think of it that way, Gail. My knee is coming along S-L-O-W-L-Y, so please don't challenge to me to any bowling tournaments in the near future, lol. But I'm glad you had fun!
Bowling sounds like fun; I hope you enjoyed yourself. It's been ages since I went. I agree with some of the others that my home is my sacred space--it fits my introvert nature. 😊
Fun adventure forthcoming! Iterative bowling shoes rentals? Yeah, a bit unseemly. My dad bowled with a group of men from the factory where he worked. Averaged about 210. So as a kid my brother and I walked to the bowling alley about a mile from our home as members of a league. The "you've got a lot to learn league." Other adult "old men," about 35 or 40, were serious bowlers. They'd roll strike after strike like machines! And grumble about spares.
I know you and the Muses will have a blast this afternoon. How could you not? Just one prying question: is this the variation where scores aren't recorded? If asked how you did, then saying "I don't remember," could be technically true. That way you can fully enjoy the game. So what if an inadvertant hook at the end jumps the rails into the adjacent alley and scores a strike? A strike is a strike. Is there a Muse for Muses bowling?
Right or left handed? My sacred space is our little house which I call a space ship hurtling through space!
YDRC (You Do Recall Correctly). And, OK, game on!
Sacred space- my farm and the ability to walk the fields. So glad you had fun bowling!!
“What if our sacred space is inside of us… and we can take it wherever we go?” -Typist
I would submit, all the evidence required for the understanding of the truth of this question lies below in the description Sharon so gracefully provided for all of us to experience…
What she wrote, came from inside of her, but was expressed externally with words that created pictures for our minds to interpret.
Life is indeed both a gift 🎁 AND beautiful 🤩
My sacred place lives within me. It expresses itself in the form of insatiable curiosity and wonder.
What I “see” is a literal interpretation of what lives within me. We are the culmination of all our lived experiences and we see from this place…
Even some our favorite quotes and phrases are interpretations of what we “see” as truth.
https://quoteinvestigator.com/2014/03/09/as-we-are/amp/