I began my very early morning by reading this delightful meditation by Parker Palmer. He reflects on the way the word "sanctuary" has changed for him: "Sanctuary is wherever I find safe space to regain my bearings, reclaim my soul, heal my wounds, and return to the world as a wounded healer. It’s not merely about finding shelter from the storm: it’s about spiritual survival. Today, seeking sanctuary is no more optional for me than church attendance was as a child."
He includes a beautiful song by Carrie Newcomer, also named "Sanctuary." I played it several times while I wrote a poem, the first poem in several weeks.
I went to the kitchen to make coffee in the early hours of the morning, the time that most people call the middle of the night. The sight of the moon streaming across the dark branches of the gumbo limbo tree made me catch my breath in sublime happiness.
I used that image in the poem that I wrote, along with different meanings of the word "office": praying the office, the office that you occupy as you do work. After over a month of stunted poems at best, this one came easily--what a relief!
It has been a peaceful morning. I made some oatcakes (like biscuits, only heartier) to have with the last of the lemon curd. I worked on my short story. I went for a walk with my spouse, and we watched the sun peek over the horizon.
And now it's off to school--new student orientation today! It's a sanctuary of a different sort.
all men cheat…
8 hours ago