In a clearing, in the woods, at the edge of a mountain, sits a little house. The living space stretches to the porch, the patio, the stone walls, and the yard beyond.
A sign for a local church on the street marks where to turn, from there, find the gravel lane, its curves concealing the sanctuary at its end point.
Where once, a long time ago, a couple raised a large family, the little house now offers a place of rest, a break from routine, a chance to just be…a sanctuary.
There is no telephone, no television. Cell phones do not ring, vibrate, buzz, or ping all day long with whatever one’s favorite sound. Connection needs the satellite to be in place or a drive to the end of road, or a walk up the nearby access lane.
No, one does not come to this sanctuary to listen to the shakers and movers, the influencers of the world, or the other noises one surrounds oneself with on a daily basis.
One comes to listen to the birds and the fox, the breaking branches and the breeze dancing in the treetops. One listens to the bees visiting the flowers and to the rocks finding balance, rock upon rock.
The thunder calls one to attention, the first raindrops warn of the others to come. The wind drives the mist to say one cannot fully hide. Yet, paving stones lay protectively, guarding young plants.
If one is not alone, one listens to the heart of others, their stories of awe, sadness, silliness, frustration, memories, love.
In this sanctuary, one listens closely to life and to the silence. And one pays attention to the light as it dances, twinkles, and calls one’s attention.
When the day is done and the breeze stills, the last Eastern Wood-Pewee says “peewee” one last time (maybe), the sunlight fades, Venus appears as well as Arcturus, the satellites zip across the sky, and the fireflies quietly do their dance. One listens to the silence.
In this sanctuary, musts and have-to’s have no place. There is no agenda, no list. One looks closely at the flowers, reads, arranges stones, puts colored water to paper, studies the lace of the tree canopy, naps, breathes, or other such thing that feeds the soul and nourishes the spirit.
Here, in this place, one can find a new perspective on the world simply by looking from a different angle or looking up or in a different light…or from experience or wisdom shared.
In a clearing, in the woods, at the edge of a mountain, sits a little house. The living space stretches to the porch, the patio, the stone walls, and the yard beyond.
In this place, one can find rest, breath, family, connection…sanctuary.
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