As we move through our daily lives, we often forget to notice the sacred quality of the places we inhabit. Yet everywhere we walk, every patch of earth beneath our feet, holds the potential for deep spiritual connection – if only we learn to see it with different eyes. We need not journey to distant lands or famous temples to find holiness. It dwells here, in the familiar landscapes of our own communities, waiting to be recognized and embraced.
When we pause to truly inhabit our surroundings, we begin to understand what the Spanish call querencia – that profound sense of place that shapes who we are and how we move through the world. This connection isn’t just about physical location; it’s about allowing ourselves to be shaped by the land itself, drawing strength and character from its contours, its rhythms, its mysteries.
We’ve become too accustomed to dominating our environment, seeing ourselves as separate from and superior to the natural world. But when we step back and observe traditional artistic representations of humanity within nature, we see a different truth – we are but small figures in a vast landscape of sky, earth, and water. This proper positioning of ourselves within creation opens us to a deeper wisdom. We begin to understand that we are not the masters of our environment but part of an intricate web of relationships that extends far beyond our individual existence.
In our modern world, we often privilege the rational mind above all else. We analyze, categorize, and try to control our experiences through intellectual understanding alone. But there is profound wisdom in embracing more embodied forms of spiritual practice. When we dance, walk, or move in prayer, we engage with the sacred in ways that transcend words. Our bare feet touching the earth, our bodies moving in rhythm with ancient traditions – these physical expressions of devotion connect us to something far older and deeper than our rational minds can grasp.
We must also acknowledge that the places we inhabit carry both joy and sorrow, triumph and trauma. The land remembers everything – every celebration, every act of violence, every moment of transformation. Rather than turning away from this pain or allowing it to embitter us, we are called to transform these wounds into sacred scars. This is not easy work, but it is necessary. When we embrace the full history of our places, including their darkest moments, we open ourselves to deeper healing and transformation.
The sacred reveals itself to us through a delicate dance of projection and reception. We must remain open to the mystery and beauty that places naturally evoke, while also actively engaging with these locations through our own projection of meaning and reverence. This two-way relationship creates a sacred feedback loop – the more we recognize and honor the holiness of a place, the more that place reveals its sacred nature to us.
In our individualistic culture, we often think of spiritual practice as a solitary pursuit. But true connection to place almost always involves community. When we gather together to celebrate, to mourn, to mark significant moments, we weave ourselves into the ongoing story of our location. These shared experiences, passed down through generations, create a rich tapestry of meaning that transcends any individual lifetime.
We need not wait for dramatic moments or special occasions to recognize the sacred nature of place. It can be found in the most ordinary locations – a backyard garden, a city park, the view from our kitchen window. What matters is not the inherent specialness of the location but our willingness to engage with it as a potential vessel for the divine. When we approach familiar places with this openness, we often discover holiness hiding in plain sight.
The natural elements that surround us – sky, earth, water, air – are not just backdrop to our human drama but active participants in our spiritual journey. When we pay attention to these elements, we begin to read the first and most fundamental sacred text – the book of nature itself. The changing seasons, the movement of clouds, the flow of water, the texture of soil – all these carry messages for those who learn to listen.
Our relationship with place calls us to embrace paradox. We are simultaneously significant and insignificant, powerful and vulnerable, permanent and transient. Like the small human figure in a vast landscape painting, we must find our proper proportion – neither inflating our importance nor diminishing our responsibility as conscious participants in the ongoing creation.
As we deepen our connection to place, we begin to understand that holiness is not something we create or control. Rather, it’s something we recognize and respond to. Every location has the potential to become a thin place – a site where the veil between the ordinary and the extraordinary becomes transparent. Our task is to cultivate the sensitivity and openness that allows us to perceive these openings when they occur.
This spiritual awareness of place demands both action and contemplation. We must actively engage with our environment – through physical presence, through ritual, through service – while also maintaining the quiet centeredness that allows us to perceive its deeper meanings. This balance of doing and being helps us avoid the twin traps of passive observation and restless activity.
The ultimate gift of developing a spiritual connection to place is the way it grounds us in reality while simultaneously opening us to mystery. We become more fully present in our immediate surroundings while also more aware of their connection to the infinite. We learn to see the sacred in the ordinary without diminishing either its ordinariness or its sacredness.
As we move forward in our spiritual journey, may we remember that every place has the potential to become querencia – a source of strength, character, and deep belonging. May we approach our environments with reverence and openness, ready to receive their gifts and to offer our own presence in return. And may we learn to read the sacred text written in landscape and sky, in changing seasons and ancient stones, in the accumulated wisdom of generations who have walked these paths before us.
SUMMARY
The concept of querencia describes how we develop deep spiritual connections to places that shape our character and strength. These connections often emerge most powerfully in stripped-down landscapes like deserts, where excess falls away to reveal essential truths. Sacred places emerge through a reciprocal relationship – they must evoke mystery or beauty in us, and we must project meaning back onto them. This spiritual connection often manifests in physical ways, like dance or pilgrimage, rather than just through words. True spirituality embraces both celebration and suffering, transforming historical pain into sacred wounds rather than letting it breed bitterness. The experience of holiness doesn’t require traditionally sacred locations – instead, it emerges through our willingness to recognize and engage with the divine in ordinary places. This engagement is strengthened through communal practices, cross-generational relationships, and deep attention to natural elements like sky, earth, and water. Places become holy through the accumulated experiences of joy and sorrow shared by communities over time, creating lasting cultural and spiritual connections that transcend individual experience.
KEY POINTS
- Querencia (from Spanish “querer” – to love) describes a sense of place where one’s strength of character emerges
- Desert landscapes strip away excess, leaving only essentials for contemplation
- Indigenous peoples maintain traditions unaffected by overly rational enlightenment thinking
- Sacred places require a two-way projection: the place must evoke mystery/beauty, and we must project goodness back
- In traditional art, humans are depicted as small elements within vast natural landscapes
- Physical prayer through dance and movement can be more powerful than verbal prayer
- Communal spirituality is more meaningful than solitary practice
- Historical pain and trauma must be transformed into sacred wounds to avoid bitterness
- Authentic spirituality embraces suffering rather than seeking triumph
- Holy places aren’t inherently sacred – they become sacred through our willingness to recognize and engage with them
- Finding holiness in ordinary locations is more valuable than idealizing distant “holy” places
- Cross-generational relationships strengthen spiritual connection to place
- Natural elements (sky, earth, water) dominate spiritual awareness
- Communal celebration and lamentation build cultural identity
- Sacred spaces emerge from both joy and sorrow experienced there
