I used to search for the sacred in life to escape from a miserable existence. These days I’m learning the sacred is not an escape, but an assist.
The Old English word for sacred is godcund meaning “god-like”, and for many people their idea of sacred therefore depends upon what their god is.
But the essence of humanity is divine, and therefore god-like, therefore sacred. These days we call this essence “consciousness”, which means the part of us that knows, the part without which all would be in darkness and unknowing.
The conflicts and differences between and among religions are trivial when the best (and strangest) of believers of all faiths have affirmed that at the heart of it all, the greatest and most sacred and holy and revered of beings is the same as your own core being.
We live our lives inside-out, except when we make time and space for the sacred to come to the fore. By whatever practice or ritual gets the job done, we let the inner knowing of our own consciousness take its rightful place for a while, and enjoy the relief and celebration as the rest of our physical and mental apparatus gets to lay down the burden of pretending to be in charge.