Featured Altar: Brianna Pike
IR: How did you begin the practice of creating an altar or spiritual space in your home? What does the process of tending to the space entail for you?
BP: I’ve always been interested in astrology, and during the first quarantine, I started to get into tarot cards. I had two conventional readings and then another that resulted in a tattoo based on the Star card for the major arcana. After those readings, I purchased my own deck and started pulling cards every day. It’s become a ritual that’s grounded me throughout this pandemic. Around this time, I started thinking about this daily practice of pulling cards and how it related to grief and the process of grieving. I’ve lost several close family members in the past few years, and often find myself thinking of them or things related to them when I pull cards. This led me to thinking about how I could honor and bring these loved ones into this practice and that’s where the altar comes in.
I created it in the central room of my home, the dining room, and it’s a true homage to my family. It’s surrounded with candles that I light every morning for about an hour while I pull my cards. I sit where I can see it while I’m reading the cards and it makes me feel connected to my family, which is a wonderful way to start my day. I also leave it lit for several hours at night when I turn out all the lights on our ground floor. It makes feel warm and comforted to look into my dining room and see the pictures of my family bathed in soft candlelight.
The altar itself is comprised of items that hold significance to me and those the altar honors. The base is a large, white stoneware platter that was my grandmother’s. There is a tooth from a moose that died on my grandparent’s property. Moose are a major fixture in northern New Hampshire, where my grandparents lived for their entire lives. There are pieces of granite (New Hampshire’s state rock) and a vase full of feathers, as I come from a long line of birders. I also have a tiny Starling skull. One of the first poems I ever published was a persona poem from the point of view of my grandfather, and it was about how he used to shoot Starlings out of the sky because they drove the songbirds from my grandmother’s feeders.
IR: How does this altar or spiritual space interact with your creativity? How do you see it relating to your writing or art?
BP: I’ve always been a collector. My husband teases me endlessly about the “treasures” I find while I’m out walking and the countless “curiosity jars” I have around our house. I’ve always got one eye on the ground looking for feathers or sea pods or bits of eggshell, so arranging a series of collected items for my altar came very naturally. I found curating the items for my altar to be soothing and poignant as many of the items relate to the family members my altar honors.
Much of my writing concerns my family and grief and how relationships to people and places and things change as a result of loss, so creating this space in my home is a consistent reminder to me to honor those complex feelings, but also to celebrate the joy that comes with the memories the altar conjures.
IR: What is at least one valuable thing you have learned from your practice of creating a sacred space? This lesson doesn’t necessarily have to be about art or writing or creativity; it can just be something about life.
BP: Creating my altar reaffirmed something I’d already come to terms with my own grief journey: grief never ends and it’s different every day. It’s important to meet yourself wherever you are, and to give your grace to yourself however you may feel.
I am reminded of this each day I come to my altar.
Sometimes I stand in front of it and I smile or laugh, remembering my grandfather walking around the front lawn, leading a pony, while I held on for dear life.
Sometimes I stand in front of my altar and I’m angry at my aunt for not seeking treatment for her cancer sooner. For keeping it a secret. For dying when she had so much life left to live.
Sometimes I stand in front of my altar and weep, thinking I’ll never hear my grandmother call me “lovey” ever again.
Sometimes I stand in front of my altar and just enjoy the way the sun comes in through the window above it, setting the collected items alight.
Featured Altar: Rachel Sahaidachny
IR: How did you begin the practice of creating an altar or spiritual space in your home? What does the process of tending to the space entail for you?
RS:I like to be intuitive about this. Nature is my ultimate altar for inspiration. When I walk, I pick up items from the woods or from the yard. I collect them for a while. When the season changes, I try to refresh the altar with whatever I’m feeling inspired by or whatever nurturing I might be in need of. I have a few altars (one per room, generally), and some of them are very simple and some of them are more populated, each with its own personal meaning. The world can feel cramped and routine sometimes. The altar allows for expansion, visual representation of connectedness to some other beyond…and a reminder that life is about more than whatever thought or struggle might be on my mind. It is an evolving process full of different types of seasons. There’s a dish of water I change daily, and pour out into my plants, a variety of incense to burn, and magical potions steeping.
IR: How does this altar or spiritual space interact with your creativity? How do you see it relating to your writing or art?
RS: It is really about bringing nature and connection into the space. Feeling connected to something larger than myself, feeling connected to a dream, a vision, an idea. Room for inspiration. On the altars are tools for communication. As an animist, I connect with the spirits in the stones or in the feather or leaf. They are meant to be touched and held and brought off the altar to gaze at and dream with. There are several spiritual, meditative, or mystical practices that involve the gaze – scrying and Trataka are examples. I think, especially in this busy life where there are so many duties and tasks and responsibilities to accomplish, that gazing can help to create the space to see and hear the images, language, and words within. The practice prepares me for the page and opens my mind up in a different way. I love to stare at crystals or a flame, gaze into the pine cone or a feather, a picture or card can be the portal, too. Any object can open up the ability for possibilities and contemplation.
IR: What is at least one valuable thing you have learned from your practice of creating a sacred space? This lesson doesn’t necessarily have to be about art or writing or creativity; it can just be something about life.
RS:I lived a lot through disassociation in my young adult years. An altar helps me to establish presence, being here, tending to my dreams and desires, connection with something beyond just me in the here and now, the possibility for change and inspiration. From a dark place it became a way to see more. To accept more. I especially appreciate the connection with nature and special places where I have collected items. I always carry pennies, or some sweet herbs (rose, chamomile, rosemary, or even an orange or an apple) to leave in return. A bit of hair can do, too. There’s reciprocation and appreciation for the spirit of every item.
Featured Altar: Natalie Solmer
IR: How did you begin the practice of creating an altar or spiritual space in your home? What does the process of tending to the space entail for you?
NS: I began creating little altars in my bedroom as a child. My maternal Polish grandma would occasionally give me one of her plastic religious figurines that she would have in her house. She had little arrangements all over the place. For example, on a bedside table, she might have a Mary figure, a plant, a prayer card, a picture of a loved one, and a rosary. I think of these as altars, and I tried to replicate them as a child.
As I grew older, and into my 20’s, I got more into it. I was intentional about having an altar as a sacred space in my home for connecting with the divine outside of the patriarchal institution of a church. When I was reading about the history of altar making across cultures, it resonated with me that women often are the ones keeping the altar in the home, and it is a way for them to connect to a higher power without having to go through any male figure in their religious institution. My family is Catholic, and we all went to Catholic school (where I became very disillusioned), so this was a welcome revelation for me. I expanded into making prayer and meditation at my altar a daily practice and also keep whatever cards I am using (such as Tarot, goddess oracle, etc.) on my altar. I like to rearrange the space once a week with fresh flowers and change out other aspects of it such as the pictures and the cloths maybe once a month.
I have to add that my mother also got more into altar making as I got older, and she has influenced me as well. She likes to keep her oracle cards there, and utilizes crystals, too. One thing I find particularly important is that she creates ephemeral shrines to loved ones on the anniversaries of their deaths: placing a photo of the person, objects related to them, flowers, and a burning candle on a table for the entirety of the day.
My Jamaican partner has a longstanding joke when he sees me at my altar, which is asking if I’m doing obeah on him! Obeah is a broad term for West African spiritual practices or witchcraft (given negative connotation by the white colonists and slaveholders who outlawed it. Yet obeah continues to have negative associations now for other reasons, which I won’t get into). Obviously, my practice is not that–there are religions worldwide of all types that practice altar making, and my practice stems from my Catholic Eastern European ancestry.
However, there is a curious link between my Polish Catholic practice and West African religions. I have a special relationship with the Polish Black Madonna, Our Lady of Czestochowa, mainly because she was important in my grandparents’ tradition (I loved the icon they had of her in their home and also in the church where they married) as well as the symbolic importance of her in Polish culture. I now have my grandparents’ icon and have her on my altar. Interestingly, her image has also become associated with the Haitian religion of Vodou and in particular, the Lwa, or spirit, of Erzulie Dantor. This fascinating cross cultural exchange happened during the Haitian Revolution, when Napoleon sent Polish soldiers to help the French cause, and many defected and fought on the side of the Haitians. An good account of how Our Lady of Czestochowa became associated with Vodou can be found here.
IR: How does this altar or spiritual space interact with your creativity? How do you see it relating to your writing or art?
NS: When I am at my lowest low, I drag myself to my altar. I am also there when I’m happy or any other mood. I try to sit and say my prayers, do some meditation, maybe do cards, almost daily.
However, when I am having a difficult time (like every writer I know, I’ve had a lifelong struggle with depression and anxiety), the practice of going to my altar is capable of reviving me and allowing me to go on.
Speaking of every writer I know, I also get down sometimes about my creative practice. Whether it is worrying about publishing, feeling blocked, or feeling not good enough, it’s very taxing to continually put yourself out there as a creative person. My altar practice grounds me and links me back to my creativity. When I am grounded, when I am in a meditative state, I can better receive the words, the inspiration, and the images that make up my work.
IR: What is at least one valuable thing you have learned from your practice of creating a sacred space? This lesson doesn’t necessarily have to be about art or writing or creativity; it can just be something about life.
NS: From my practice of altar making, I have learned that creativity is endless. There is not a finite amount of creative force in the world–it’s always there, and it can always be tapped into. Sometimes there is too much busyness or trauma or other major distractions going on in our lives, and we can’t seem to connect to it, but it’s always there underneath.
I think of that creative force as the same thing as God or a higher power. Connecting to it at the altar helps prime my creative practice.
