A few months back, about the same time I won a hefty prize for a blogging contest, the bizarre stench that had been haunting my office reached epic proportions.

Mold? Burrowing animals under the floor? No clue.

All I knew for certain was the stale air was scratching my throat and burning my eyes.

I moved my office to the dining room table.

My partner  works mainly out of the Asheville Herbiary so he offered me his workroom in the garage. Since there’s no heat out there and winter is far from over we planned the move for early spring.

I’ve been heading out to the garage a few times a week to stare at the personality-less white box built by the previous owner.

My eyes roam the walls, finding the place where I can put French doors onto a little deck or perhaps add a new entry from a stone patio I would add to the side creating a little courtyard connecting the garage to the main house.

I began to dream up a project using my blogging contest earnings to turn the white box into my sanctuary, my sacred (work) space.

As the idea took root I began asking other women if they’d ever had a room of their own and what it meant to them. I talked to my architect friends about sacred space and my wood-worker friends about live-edge shelves.

In my mind creating my little office space spurred all sorts of side projects: I planned podcasts and photo tours, easy carpentry lessons, and simple feng shui.

I tried to figure out how to stretch my $2,500 prize money to cover both a deck and a stone patio.

Meanwhile I was cultivating an acute case of work invading life: since the dining room was my office space, meals had to be eaten with my trusty Mac standing by and guests had to dodge the mouse to get their napkin.

A few weeks ago, while on retreat, I looked at various areas of my world that needed a clean-up and then laid out action steps to get me from here to there. It became increasingly apparent that my friendships, my work flow, my home environment and my general stress level were all taking a hit with the current dining in the office/working in the dining room scenario.

But I couldn’t move out to the garage! There was so much work to do to create my sacred space there. There were people to interview and carpenters to film!

Sound familiar?

If you’re like me, it’s hard not to strive for the best of what can be. That molehill really could be a mountain… if I just nurture it and help it grow.

One of my toughest lessons is sometimes it’s best to let the molehill be a molehill…

… especially if nurturing it into a mountain means the rest of your life suffers.

So last weekend I moved into the garage office.

And this week I’ve been pondering how to make it sacred space, without turning it into a big construction project.

A few days back I was on the phone with one of my long-time students and she told me that she had begun lighting a candle every full moon night. This simple reminder keeps her aware of the night sky and of herself as part of something larger and greater. Simply seeing the flame brings her back to center.

So I’ve been asking myself what’s my full moon flame?

What can I create for myself that is both simple and sacred?

How can I change the feel of the space without restructuring the physical space?

I have some ideas. I’m gonna let them percolate. and maybe I’ll do a video or a podcast about it (::snort::).

Meanwhile share your ideas for creating simply sacred space in the comments below!