Why Everyone’s Sacred Matters Now

Why Everyone’s Sacred Matters Now

Sometimes the timing of a book
is as important as its words.

As I anticipate the arrival of Everyone’s Sacred in November,
I feel its urgency in ways I didn’t anticipate when I began.

The cultural ground beneath us is shifting.
Divides deepen.
Labels are hurled like weapons.
Neighbors stand across lines
that feel harder and harder to cross.

Many sense the shadow of collapse—
whether political, social, or spiritual.

Everyone’s Sacred was never meant as escape.
It isn’t “pie in the sky.”
It doesn’t replace one doctrine with another.

It’s about breath.
About touch.
About the garment of meaning we’ve worn all along—
even when we didn’t have words for it.

Sacred Imagination doesn’t defend belief.
It invites presence.

It gives us a way to hold grief—without despair.
To honor wounds—without weaponizing them.
To walk together—without demanding the same map.

Already my heart turns toward January 2026—
and Everyone’s Dream.

It may be the most necessary book yet.

Where Everyone’s Sacred roots us in breath and garment,
Everyone’s Dream carries us toward the Hearth,
the Fire,
and the Pathstones.

Shared practices
that might help us remain human—
even if the structures around us fracture.

If we can tend the Hearth,
carry the Fire,
and walk with the Pathstones,

we may yet discover a way of being together
that is more than law,
more than ideology—
something that remembers what it means to be human.

I believe timing matters.

And maybe—just maybe—
these books are arriving when they’re most needed.

Not because they’re perfect.
But because they’re present.

And presence—
simple, steady, human presence—
may be the most radical gift
we can offer one another
right now.

The Trace We Leave

“If you’d like to explore the Myth Walker’s ethics in depth,
read Chapter 11 in the Sacred Imagination Guide”

On Walking Gently in a Time of Violence

Yesterday, a young life was taken on a university campus.
One moment, here. The next, gone.

We don’t need to know the politics to feel the weight of it.
We don’t need to share the same beliefs to grieve a human story cut short.
We don’t need to agree on every ideology to know that something in us breaks
when violence becomes the loudest voice in the room.

Sacred Imagination isn’t a religion.
It doesn’t stand on creeds or cling to certainty.
But it does take a side — always, and quietly — for life.
For the breath in another’s lungs.
For the dignity of difference.
For the fragile threads that hold us to one another.

Walking Without Weapons

The path of a Myth Walker doesn’t move toward being “right.”
It moves toward being real.

To see.
To listen.
To walk as though each step matters —
because it does.

We can hold convictions without wielding them as weapons.
We can disagree without erasing one another’s humanity.
We can leave traces that heal instead of wounds that scar.

The Elemental Ethics

Even now — especially now — the elemental ethics of Sacred Imagination call us back to presence:

🌍 Earth — Walk gently on the ground we share.
🌊 Water — Let your words refresh more than they erode.
🌬️ Sky — Speak with clarity, not cruelty.
🔥 Fire — Carry passion without turning it to flame.
🧍🏽 Humanity — See the story behind every stranger’s eyes.

Life Still Speaks

None of us will walk perfectly.
But each of us leaves a trace.

In moments like this, what we choose to leave behind
matters more than ever.

This isn’t about politics.
It’s about presence.
It’s about life.
It’s about refusing to let fear, anger, or ideology
sever us from one another.

Sacred Imagination doesn’t promise easy answers.
But it invites us to walk differently.
To tend the flame without burning the world.
To breathe where others cannot.
To leave a mark that helps the next walker
find their way.

“We do not walk to win.
We walk to witness.
We walk so that, even here,
life still speaks louder than death.”

Episode 7 When the Sacred Divides Us

Some divisions arrive with fanfare - loud, forceful ruptures that no one can ignore.
Others happen quietly, in living rooms and kitchens and prayer circles…where sacred stories are supposed to unite, but end up wounding instead.

This is one of those stories.

When we speak of Sacred Imagination, we do so with reverence - not to destroy the past, but to walk through it with open hands.
But for many of us, this walk has come with cost - especially when our shift in belief, or in how we understand belief, touches the people we love most.

What happens when the sacred no longer means the same thing to both of you?

When metaphor becomes more honest than doctrine…

When myth becomes more nourishing than certainty…

When the stories you once shared now signal different worlds?

This isn’t theory.
It’s not intellectual gymnastics.
It’s the ache of a marriage. A friendship. A family.
Where one person still clings to inherited faith - and the other, still honoring it, can no longer believe it literally.

And so…a wall rises.
Not of anger or hatred, but of misunderstanding.
Where once there was common bread, now one eats with grief and the other prays for repentance.

We don’t share this story for pity.
We share it because it’s real.
Because so many are walking this path - quietly, painfully, lovingly - and feel like they’re the only one.

Let it be known: you are not alone.

The path is still sacred, even when it diverges.
Even when one of you still says “Jesus is Lord” and the other says, “Jesus is myth” - and both mean something heartfelt.

Bread still nourishes.
Fire still warms.
The cup still passes.

We walk on, not to erase what others believe, but to live with integrity…and to love even when we are misunderstood.

This is what Sacred Imagination dares to hold:
A faith beyond belief.
A table with no litmus test.
A path where presence matters more than proof.

And sometimes, when we’re very honest, we grieve the distance.
But even in grief, the journey matters.

And even divided, we still carry the fire.
We still break the bread.
We still drink from the mystery.

—P. Glenn – Myth Walker

Episode 6 The Fire That Didn’t Burn Me

They threaten to consume everything we once held dear—beliefs, relationships, identity, even a sense of self. Deconstruction can be one of those fires. Grief can be another. So can betrayal.

And yet... some fires don’t destroy. Some fires refine.

This episode explores what it means to pass through inner upheaval and come out transformed—not ash, but ember. We talk about the fire that didn’t burn us, the blaze that revealed what could endure, what still matters, and what was never ours to begin with.

If you're standing in the heat—or rising from it—this one is for you.

Episode 5 I Didn’t Lose Faith. I Lost the Frame.

There’s a common assumption that those who walk away from religion have simply lost their faith. But that’s not always the case.

For many, it’s not faith that disappears—it’s the frame that breaks.

The frame is the structure we inherited: the doctrines, the boundaries, the certainties, the systems. When that frame begins to crack—whether from personal disillusionment, intellectual tension, or moral concern—it can feel like the entire painting is falling apart.

But sometimes, what we’re losing isn’t the art. It’s just the old frame that held it.

This episode explores how faith can survive—and even thrive—beyond the confines of inherited belief. We consider what happens when the need for rigid certainty fades, and how a deeper kind of meaning can emerge through myth, metaphor, and sacred imagination.

You don’t have to throw the canvas away just because the frame no longer fits.

Episode 4 What Sacred Means Now

What does sacred mean—when you’re no longer sure you believe in a sacred book, or a sacred institution, or a sacred place someone else defined for you?

This episode explores how “sacred” might still matter, even after belief has changed.

Sacred isn’t about perfection, or power, or piety.
It’s about presence.

It’s what you feel when a moment stops you. When the breath deepens.
When a tear comes, or a laugh, and you don’t know why.

In Sacred Imagination, sacredness isn’t granted by authority—it’s discovered by attention.
It’s not owned or enforced. It’s encountered.

Let’s explore what sacred means now… and why that still matters.

Special Episode - July 4 The Flame She Still Holds

The Flame She Still Holds

This isn’t a protest.
It’s not a patriotic salute.
It’s not a political stance or a call to arms.
It’s something quieter.
Something older.
A mythic remembering.

The Flame She Still Holds

A weathered figure sits in quiet ruin.

Crowned in ancient rays and robed in cracked stone,
she resembles the one we once called Liberty.
But this is no polished statue of national pride.

She is older than any empire that claimed her,
and more sorrowful than any anthem that sang her name.

Her torch—long fractured—is lowered,
its flame no longer blazing for others to follow.

Yet in her other hand,
resting gently on her lap,
a small flame still burns.

It is not a flame of conquest.
It is not the fire of revolution or defense.

It is the ember of meaning—
the quiet pulse of a symbol we forgot how to read.

She does not demand worship.
She does not offer judgment.

She simply waits.
To be remembered.
To be reimagined.
To be honored—
not as icon or idol—
but as invitation.

This is Liberty as myth.
Not as weapon.
Not as monument.

She is broken, yes—
but still holding fire.

The Flame You Forgot

We once crowned her with light
and called her Liberty.

We built her high,
turned her into a symbol,
a statue,
a promise.

She stood in harbors,
printed on currency,
burned into our national myth.

But somewhere along the way…
we forgot what she was.

We turned her into a monument.
Then into a mascot.

We used her to justify wars.
We raised her as a banner
for freedoms we didn’t fully extend.

We worshiped her.
Then we hollowed her out.

Now, when she appears,
it’s mostly in steel or stone—
cold, untouchable, iconic.

But she was never meant to be made of metal.

She was myth.
She was breath.
She was a fire we were meant to carry.

Look again.

Not to the polished torch
or the slogans etched into pedestals—
but to the broken figure seated in silence.

She wears the crown, yes…
but it’s cracked.

Her torch has fallen,
worn with time.

And yet—
in her hand…

a single ember still burns.

Not for spectacle.
Not for conquest.

But for meaning.
For memory.
For those who still remember how to listen.

This isn’t patriotism.
It isn’t protest.

It’s mythic reckoning.

It’s the quiet rediscovery
of a goddess we turned into a slogan.

It’s the Sacred Imagination whispering:

You forgot the flame.
But it didn’t forget you.

You don’t need to rebuild the statue.
You don’t need to wave her like a flag.

Just sit with her.
Notice the ember.

And remember what liberty was really meant to be:

Not possession.
Not pride.

But presence.
A sacred symbol.
A companion on the path.

A flame that still waits to be carried forward—
not for power…

but for meaning.

Episode 3 Do You Still Believe in Something?

After the unraveling of belief, many are left with a haunting question—do you still believe in anything?

In this episode, we gently trace that question—not as an interrogation, but as an invitation.

What if belief is no longer about subscribing to certainty, but awakening to presence?
What if it’s not about clinging to answers, but becoming more attuned to meaning?

Through story and reflection, we explore the quiet, sacred yes that still lives in the ruins.
The kind that doesn’t demand allegiance or conformity,
but emerges like breath after grief—
a fragile, resilient affirmation that meaning still matters,
and that you still belong.

This isn’t about rebuilding old belief structures.
It’s about learning to listen differently.

Episode 2 When the Stone Became Symbol

Long before doctrine hardened, there was story.

And before story was written in ink… it was carved into stone, carried in breath, traced in memory.

This episode explores how symbols once moved with us—shifting, shimmering, helping us hold what words couldn’t quite contain.

But over time, what was meant to point beyond became locked in place.
The symbol was mistaken for the thing.
The myth became a rule.

What happens when we forget how to read the deeper meaning?

What happens when the stone stops breathing?

Let’s revisit the moment when the stone became symbol… and how Sacred Imagination invites us to listen again.

Episode 1 The Wall and the Breath

In this opening reflection, we explore what it means to feel closed in by doctrinal certainties—
to be held with unquestioning minds, regardless of historical context or literary adaptation—
and how the first breath of sacred imagination begins when we no longer have to hold our breath to belong.

This is where the journey begins:
Not with rejection, but with release.
Not with an answer, but a breath.

Some walls protect.
Others isolate.
Sacred Imagination begins the moment we realize we can walk through them.

Episode 0 Sacred Imagination Promocast Intoduction

This is Sacred Imagination.
A podcast for those
deconstructing religion—
and reconstructing meaning.

Not a doctrine,
but a door.

Not certainty,
but a path…
walked with wonder.

Each episode explores
how myth and metaphor
can breathe new life
into the questions we carry
long after belief has broken down.

I’m P. Glenn — Myth Walker.

And this is an invitation.
Not to believe—
but to belong.
To remember.
To imagine.
To walk free.

You’ll find the podcast
and companion blog
at sacredimagination.net
with new episodes releasing
on scheduled dates—
each one weaving presence, poetry,
and something worth carrying.

Where belief may have burned out—
the ember of meaning
still glows.

Let’s walk from the ashes.
Not alone—
but together.
With sacred imagination
lighting the way.