Sacred places

How easy is it for us to name things, events, people, that bring us down, hurt us, depress us, or make us anxious: the news in its many forms, politics, wars, the economy, safety concerns, just to mention a few triggers. We have no problem creating a long list.

 But how many ways do we know and use to counter-balance them, and to neutralize their negative impact on us?      How do we push back to restore ourselves?

Balance is not automatic. We have to create it. We have to work on it.

 There are options for every taste, every personality:

You can go to therapy. If that is too time consuming there is meditation, or 2 minute breaks in the middle of your hectic day. I remember hanging over the fence watching the mares and their offspring frolicking in the snow, under a clear blue sky.

Some people listen to music or make art. There is always a piece of paper and a pen close by to vent and let go.

 And then there are sacred places.I am not only thinking of churches and other places of religion and worship.

There are sacred places, or sanctuaries, in locations, memories, special people, or meaningful moments in life that connect us with our inner self, that bring us peace and serenity. I remember the tent I built as a child out of two chairs and an old sheet. I still feel the coziness and me in it. 

Special locations like beaches, open landscapes, and forests can create a natural barrier against the daily barrage; or conversations that touched us; or people who gave us unexpected support.

Artists know a lot about sacred places: the studio, the pencil, the desk, the solitude and focus to create.

 Sometimes these moments come to the surface spontaneously. We can only hope that we notice and treasure them in the moment.

When I still lived with my parents in Hilversum and worked in Amsterdam I used to commute by train: rush hours both ways. On the day in question, some four or five decades ago, people smoked everywhere including in public places.

After a long day at work, and running through the rain to the train station, I was lucky I found a standing place, with many other lucky people pressing around me, most of them shrouded in the smell of old smoke. Leaning from a metal post, wet, tired, with someone else’s dripping umbrella parked in my shoe, I felt miserable. After a while it dawned on me that my thoughts were safe, beyond reach of all the physical discomforts. They were mine.  

We can create our very own sanctuaries, like your reading nook, aromas that take you back to more uncomplicated times, music, deep breathing, or restful sleep.

Every time the triggers are having a ball with you, and you crave peace, silence, and calm, choose a way to balance your Self and outlast the noise.

Your sanctuary awaits.