Altar more, he said.

     On the Day of the Dead, 2017, Minks and I decided we should have an altar. Someone had gifted us a skull candle, beautifully carved of beeswax. We didn't really put a lot of thought into this decision, nor, truth be told, the altar, although it ended up being sweet and beautiful. It is only now I see how deeply that spontaneous decision has shaped us.


     By November of 2017, we were well on our spiritual journey together. It had been almost 2 years since David had danced into our lives, and we had had some sort of spiritual practice almost every day, no exaggeration. OK, slight exaggeration, but every day we marveled at the light and malt in our lives, which I think counts as a practice.



     The altar was (no kidding) tin foil over cardboard. We melted the ends of the candles so they would (sort of) stand up straight. We placed this on the seat of Minks' awesome orange velveteen-upholstered wooden armchair. We put small ceremonial candles of many different colors in a circle around the skull candle, each one dedicated to a person or animal we loved who had passed.
   


     The back of the chair was draped with an odd assortment of necklaces, concert bracelets (mostly Dave Matthews Band at the Gorge), and a random feather or two. As I recall we chose each item for a particular reason but those reasons are long gone, now.



     We turned off all the lights, turned on some tunes, and sat in front of the altar, gazing at the flames. Stillness filled us, and the room started to fade at the edges. As we gazed, one or the other of us would make a comment about what we were feeling, or what the flames looked like, falling deeper into the experience each moment. We talked at length about David and with him, a bit.







     I cannot remember when exactly but soon after the altar we (again) were asking David what we should do to grow our practice. "Altar more," he said. "OK!" we replied.



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     The altar has become the center of our practice, at least for me. We start each day there, drinking
morning bevies while we pray, or do sendings, or pull Tarot cards, or share dreams, or read sections of books we love. Or poetry. Every day we light at least one and usually several candles dedicated to various people or events, thought patterns, intentions, and healing. Here we meet with our spirit allies as we start the day, thanking them or inviting them to help, or simply to love them.

     It has changed so much since that first janky tinfoil and whimsy thing we used for the Day of the Dead, 2017. Now we have a dedicated platter for the candles and actual candle holders. We still use Minks' awesome chair, but now the seat is draped with a brilliant silk sari cloth, that glows in deep oranges and gold, the cloth that served as the altar when Minks and Malachi dedicated to each other in spirit marriage (more on this later!). It is still a bit crusty with salt from the waves that crashed on the beach that incredible, stormy day.


     The back of the chair is clothed in a shawl my mother gave me, white with gold embroidery. She hated it but I have held on to it all these years, and love that it has found a home. Resting against this cloth is a perfectly round platter that we found at a thrift store, inlaid with mother-of-pearl in geometric patterns. The legs are hidden by a night blue scarf covered in moons and stars, too cheesily perfect to pass up.

All along both arms sit icons of our protector spirits in animal form.










     We live in a 10 X 20 square foot room, with enough space for a bed and two chairs, and one of those is dedicated to our altar practice. I feel as though it is the heart of our space and I never tire of gazing at it, absorbing the beauty and feeling the love we have poured into it for so long now.