Sanctuary

This week while sitting outside early one morning listening to the robins, the word sanctuary crossed my mind. Just the day prior, a young woman I know was telling me about her lifelong love of creating sanctuary. 

Sanctuary connotes structures of worship from the Baptist church of my childhood to cathedrals scattered throughout France. I'm reminded of animal sanctuaries like the Elephant Sanctuary not that far away and sanctuary for people, those seeking assylum, peace and rest from abuse in dictatorial, war torn lands.

This morning though sanctuary comes to mind and tears fill my eyes. At times I need a human sanctuary. No, I need a non-human sanctuary as much that causes me distress relates to humans roaming Earth. 

As someone who's senstive, I suspect I long for sanctuary more so than many. This is why I sit on my deck at midnight's quiet under the star-filled sky or this morning sat for over two hours listening to and watching the robins. I long for sanctuary of the heart. This may be my greatest lesson, my challenge in a world in which people kill, bully, torture and harm things of beauty to me. 

Earth was created as a sanctuary. It takes a strong heart to live here without walling off and turning to stone.  It takes a strong heart to live here and not take one's life literally or slowly through alcohol, drugs and an array of anesthetizers. 

You cannot buy sanctuary. Ads and commericals will tell you, you can. They will sell you things of beauty with which you may surround yourself, yet santuary starts wihin and at least for me involves a dance with the without. 

This morning before sanctuary came to mind, tears had already welled in my eyes as I recalled last Spring watching the robin couple daily build its nest by my back door. For two months I quietly sat on my deck and often avoided the back door out of respect and love for this one couple and their eventual three children.  

All three of these young ones eventually flew yet only a month later a robin died overnight.  A neighbor found it sitting alive in her driveway.  The nest or parent couldn't be found.  I knew it had an injury.  Still I made a nest in a box, fed it mushed up worm and tucked it in for the night.  Walden's Puddle agreed to give it sanctuary until I awoke the next morning to find it had died.  

I wept uncontrollably for awhile, then took it outside where I asked its kin to come receive its feathered body back into their starry flock. Before placing it in the empty nest, I asked all the birds to continue to come be with us on Earth.

I have not always been this way with birds. 

The morning after the May Day Flood in 2010 as I emptied my basement of its wet contents, I nearly stepped on a dead baby robin.  It caught my eye just in time as I filled the bed of the truck backed into my drive. I stepped over it then stopped.  My nonchalance caught my breath.  Who was this me? I picked up the mangled little body blown from its nest and apologized.  Then I laid it lovingly under a nearby shrub. 

In that moment I knew this is how it happens.  It is so easy to get caught up in doing what's next, then next, then next that what's before our very eyes goes unseen and gets passed.

This morning tears rose as I thought, "They're here. They did come again." 

I thought of all the many birds I've held and laid to rest.  I always ask their feathered tribe to come get them and keep coming to us as well. 

Yes, sanctuary for me at least starts within, yet it involves a dance with the without and experiencing the willingness to open my heart and engage again and again.

Sanctuary starts within and realizing the beauty that you are, the beauty of your heart. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 6 February 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com