“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.” – Hermann Hesse
On a morning walk this week, I looked up at the sky, tilted my head and saw the sun playing hide and seek with the tree. I stopped, stood for a second, appreciating the glory of the green leaves, the arch of the trunk and the intensity of the light. One word repeated itself, sanctuary. It is a place of refuge. I thought about all of those places in my life where I sought comfort, knowing in my marrow these are the spaces where there is an indescribable contentment. Identifying those places are an important exercise.
- Nature is my absolute sanctuary. When I struggle, I look to the dusk-colored mountains, the cerulean sky and the bright prink bougainvilleas.
- My ten-year-old daughter teaches me how to love, forgive and the importance of asking questions. Sometimes (even though she is a tween) she gives me permission to wrap my arms around her – her breath pulses with a rhythm. I listen and try to memorize this particular moment, knowing this sanctuary is one filled with privilege, honor and permanency. No matter what, I will always be her mother.
- Oh, I cannot express how many times books have saved me. We’ve had conversations where I’ve listened. I remember reading “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” by Judy Blume as a young girl and feeling less alone. I can’t name all the books that have provided refuge (there are too many), but the ones that come to mind – “Letters to a Young Poet” by Rainer Rainer Maria Rilke, Flannery O’Connor’s short stories, “Razor’s Edge” by Somerset Maugham, “The Death of Ivan Illyich” by Leo Tolstoy and “Tiny Beautiful Things” by Cheryl Strayed. Reading is its own sanctuary. I will always believe this to be true.
- If my childhood flashed on a highlight reel, I could readily point to several places where I can identify my safe havens. One particular memory will always rise above all of them – Sitting with my mother, father and sister at our chipped, deep brown mahogany dining table. I spent so many moments at that table, not knowing its power. Some sanctuaries you learn about in retrospect.
- The first moments of a morning. Looking over, seeing my husband and exchanging a single glance, I start my day with a particular ease. My husband knows where I come from. He knows the flawed and vulnerable me.
- Routine and sanctuary are synonymous in my life. I love the unfolding of the day that is wholly embedded in the ordinary. Paying attention is a mantra and one that I repeat daily. In midlife, I’ve learned those small things, walking through the grocery aisle, making dinner for my family, watching my daughter play tennis, eating Hot Tamale candy with my husband while viewing a movie, talking to my mom and sister and listening to the hums of everyday life – the whoosh sound of the dishwasher, the gasps from the air conditioner and the hustle of the cars on the street, are the big things that matter.
- My writing is where I learn to embrace my reflections, all of them, the ugly and the beautiful, the happy and the sorrowful, the solitude and the noise. It’s a sanctuary that is holy to me.
Where are your places of sanctuary and sacredness?
Such a good question. Sometimes it just changes. Even home can feel… un-sanctuary-like at times, and unsuspecting places CAN feel like one.
I think my parent’s house is always a place I can go. Our beach house. Here at this computer. In a little shop around the corner.
I love the idea of unexpected sanctuaries, Tamara. I’ll have to ponder on that reflection. Thanks!
Anywhere in nature, even if it’s only in my backyard in the woods. My favorite places are family property along the river in the mountains, and the other one is along the creek in the homestead in the country. There are times music or books whisk me away.
Nature is one of my favorite sanctuaries too, Susan. There is a transformative quality to breathing the outdoors and paying attention to the abundance of beauty.
Yes, to nature and trees in particular. I’d been in Arizona and San Diego last week for my youngest daughter’s graduation with a Master’s in Aeroscience. My parents were there. My other children were there. My husband, other extended family. It was filled with signature moments. But when I returned home, regrouped and walked under and through trees in my favorite gardens here in Oregon yesterday, I came back to tranquility and sanctuary. I do actually touch trees and hold that touch until I feel thier energy and know that they’re aware of mine. My husband smiles when he says I’m a tree-hugger. A tree toucher, I correct him.
Congrats to your daughter, Barb. That is certainly exciting. Thanks for sharing your sentiments about tree-touching – I imagine there is a wave of energy that flows from the tree to you and vice-versa. It seems like the perfect meditation in nature.
Yes, I always feel nature is my sanctuary, also my home… My family .. A good book. Great post! Xo
All good places to seek refuge, Ayala. Thanks for sharing.
Something pulled me to your blog today and then I found this post, just when I needed it. I love this so much. I am in need of a sanctuary, of sanctuaries, and I need to take the time to find or make them. My husband is out of town, so the other morning I forced myself to get up early to water our lawn. How different it was to start my day off surrounded by green and in fresh air! I’ve ordered a new patio set to surprise my husband when he gets back, and I think that will be my new sanctuary and routine…to curl up on our patio each morning with a light breakfast and book. Thanks for this beautiful post, Rudri.
Reading a book in the morning on your new patio set sounds like the perfect sanctuary, Cecilia. I hope it provides a place of rest, reflection and relaxation. I also love that watering your lawn became a place of comfort and an unexpected sanctuary.xo