I find a sanctuary on my balcony yestereve, with einstein bulbs strung up and a blanket on my legs and a laptop on my lap where writing coming easier for once.
I am oscillating wildly this week between keeping my routines or breaking them for a different form of self-care: where I give myself permission to not be perfect. It’s a balance. My body has felt exhausted and hungry the past few days so I skip kickboxing in favor of being home and ordering food. I sink into television and pizza but then get myself up and outside on my porch, enjoying the rewards of daylight savings, and write. A broken routine, but not a bad right. Not a regretful one.
We need sanctuaries. Safe havens. Spaces we create that bring us some magic. Like a balcony with lights. Or a bath with lavender salts. Or a walk in green space. Or sometimes a bed, where we can read and sleep and restore.
I don’t mean “an escape” when I say sanctuary. Not exactly. I mean find a place where you heal. Not hidden from the world, but tethered to the most beautiful part of it.
When we are truly mindful I don’t think we need a pretty lights and solitude. As Rumi puts it, we carry our sanctuary within ourselves:
Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.
Rumi
I search for it this morning, that entrance. The danger of breaking routines, no matter the gentle permission given, is that re-entering them is all the harder. I give myself bargains to stay in bed longer: I’ll go to the gym after work, it’s storming outside, my body must need the rest, it’s just this week…and on and on.
They might win. But bargaining is not a sanctuary, it’s avoidance.
I don’t have a life I need to avoid. I have a life I need to live. I have sanctuaries waiting to heal me when I need it.
I am brave. I show up. I move forward.
With Love,
Natalie