If I hear one more narcissistic airhead refer to his home as a sacred space I am going to lose my breakfast. I first heard this egoistical nonsense from an ex-friend, last spring, who ended our friendship because I had defiled his sacred space.
Let me tell you a little bit about this individual (so, sue me!) He is an older gay man, an ex-priest, according to him drummed out of the priesthood because of his sexuality, and claims to be now suffering from PTSD from the ordeal. He is also wealthy, and used to getting his own way. I was invited to attend a soiree in his home last winter, just before I left the country for a month's vacation. I was not doing very well, but still trying my best to get along with people. He made me feel less than welcome in his home, especially when I wouldn't wear a name tag (it felt too weird) From start to finish, when I left less than an hour later, except for a short token chat, he ignored me while attending to more important guests. I left, hoping we were okay with each other. Not once did a rude or untactful comment or tone pass from me to him or to any of the other guests. When I returned from my trip, he rabidly accused me of defiling his sacred space with my anger. I was absolutely flummoxed. Then he ended our friendship, claiming (quite lamely) that I triggered him.
I am always sad when a friendship ends, especially when it is done in such a completely ugly, dishonest and inappropriate manner.
So what made my ex-friend's home sacred? Why, the fact that he lived there. Another self-adulating narcissist buying into the fatuous nonsense of contemporary psychobabble. And I am hearing this same cow dung everywhere: my home is sacred. No one shall defile it, and other such nonsense.
I remember a time when people used to welcome each other into their homes. None of this codswallop about their entering a sacred space, but simple, sincere hospitality. If it's mealtime, put out an extra plate. That was my own style of hospitality for years and the kind that my parents taught me when I was growing up. Then, when cafes started opening everywhere, the place of socializing shifted into the public realm, and now it is becoming increasingly difficult to have friends over. There are friends who refuse to visit me in my home. My place, though small, is clean, attractive, interesting, well-ordered and I take care to make my guests feel comfortable, safe and welcome. And there is absolutely no risk of anything inappropriate occurring because I totally respect my friends. But it seems this reluctance to visit anywhere but on neutral turf is becoming fairly widespread, maybe because this sacred nonsense is simply a cover for being too lazy to keep you place clean, or you're really a selfish dickhead who thinks he's too special to go a little bit out of his way for others.
Even I was falling for this kind of nonsense for a few years and now I hope that I've recovered. By the same token I can understand that people don't always feel ready for something so intimate as a personal space for visiting. I feel this way at times, and have gone through phases of only wanting to see people on neutral ground, because I didn't feel safe anywhere else. For this I will cut infinite slack.
But enough of this sacred tripe. If my home is sacred it is only because God is worshipped and honoured there. By the same token, given that the image of God is stamped in all of us, perhaps every single place where people are could be considered sacred. At least the bit of pavement or sidewalk where the homeless person is sleeping. Because that doorway is her home, that doorway is sacred. Because that bit of pavement is his home, that bit of sidewalk is sacred. Which is to say, there is not once single square foot of space anywhere I on this earth because it is all sacred, by extension so are we, and it all belongs to the same God.
But, please, Gentle Reader, no more please of this I am special, oh so special kind of nonsense. No more using your narcissistic self-adulation as a feeble excuse for shutting others out of your life. No more of this traumatising nonsense. How ironic that my ex-friend, claiming to be a PTSD sufferer, should end up traumatising me through his stupid snobbish hatred. And for those of us who live in nice comfortable homes with a spare bedroom or two, are you really that special that your living space would be too sacred for you to want to share it with someone traumatised and homeless? Oh, I forgot: you are special, which makes your home sacred. You live in a church, eh? Oh, silly me.
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