Sanctuary

posted in: Living Real | 2

Not for a long time, has a place sung “home” like this one does. It’s all been so quick – the work so hard, the ensuing body flare and pain so overwhelming – that the mind really hasn’t caught up with it yet. This place is ours, our new home close to sea, mountains and trees. Fog wraps the mountains, Canada geese congregate in the nearby field, and underneath our very window, amidst the perennials, a lonely maple turns yellow and seems to shout with the miracle of it.

E- once asked me how it would be if I had been encouraged to write: if my gifts had been nurtured, if the craft of word weaving had been regarded as something to be cherished, not reviled. I could only think of one word – “miraculous”. Here it is, without any loss of the reality of all the outer world can be, a place of miracles. Somehow any remaining struggles: those with health, with the need to belong and connect with the outer world, all seem lessened in enormity by the contact with this world of air, earth, water and autumn leaves on fire.

Today, I have the blessed opportunity to attend a workshop on self-publishing, including a trade show, which promises to expose me to all the options and information that any newly transplanted “writer” could hope for. I once read that the definition of a writer is one who writes. By that definition, I am at last what I longed to be, since I struggled to hide my words at the age of fourteen. Only now, there is no hiding. I feel the unsurety, the destructive force of the shifting ground, but I am to go out and pass amongst those whom I once revered as more worthy than me, but now (without any pride) those whom I sense are my equals. For we are all human, and we have all suffered. Our delight (and responsibility) is to write about it.

I have left the safety of the bank. I can experience the deep waters, I can return to the shallows and I can languish in between. That freedom is mine, no matter how small the time apportioned me, I feel it now in my soul. In this attic room with a view of mountains, geese, trees, lunar eclipses and the breath of sea, I am free. I have found my sanctuary, and it is miraculous.

2 Responses

  1. Janice P
    | Reply

    Your comments on “Sanctuary” are very moving. You described almost exactly what I want for myself, – and even had before I moved to Washington. I still haven’t figured out why I’m here or what to do. Several people have told me I need to “Heal”, but healing in itself doesn’t mean just sitting around doing nothing while the healing takes place. There has to be other things to do as well.

    Anyway, just wanted to say you write beautifully. Take care ((HUGS)).

    Janice P.

  2. Jane
    | Reply

    Dear Janice,

    Thank you for visiting my weblog and for commenting. I am so glad to see you here (((gentle huggles))). I haven’t had much time for Care2 lately, although I hope to change that soon, as I think that overall it is a very healing website, not just personally, but for the planet.

    “Healing” is such a loaded word and it seems so simple, but I’ve come to realize that it is hard work and struggle. You’re right that sitting still and hoping some external force will heal us will not work. Sometimes though, we are just plain tired from the struggle and need to rest – know what I mean? Having said that, I find I always need to be doing “something” to feel like I am working on myself, even though it may not be much at all. Some days, just focussing my mind to read a paragraph of a personal growth book, for instance, is all I can do. Be proud of what you do, especially the small things. They are all great achievements.

    It is my greatest wish that you find your way back to your sanctuary, even if it must take a different form than what you knew originally. There are quiet places, even in the busiest of cities. I used to live in a city of over 3 million people, and I still found my quiet places just to be with nature. No doubt, it is more challenging. I am sure you will move forward when the time is right, to find your own place that feels safe and healing for you.

    Please stay in touch, and I hope to be back online a bit more soon.

    Love and many huggs,
    Jane

Leave a Reply