Finding Sanctuary

Sep 30

When you hear the word sanctuary, what comes to mind?

For some, it’s a cathedral or an endless, quiet forest. For others, it might be a weekend away at the beach or in the mountains, unplugged and uninterrupted. As wonderful as those spaces are, waiting for them can leave us longing for rest instead of living it.

Over the years, I’ve learned that a sanctuary doesn’t have to be grand. Sometimes it’s tucked into the tiniest corners of life.

For me, sanctuary has been found in small spaces:

The corner in my living room where I curl up with a notebook in the early mornings.
A daily walk outside, the fresh air clearing my thoughts as I move through my neighborhood.
The quiet in my studio midday, when the only sound is the steady carving of a linocut block.

None of these moments are big or dramatic. But they give me a pause, a place to exhale. They are miniature, daily sanctuaries, just as vital as the grander ones. And research shows that even small restorative breaks can lower stress hormones and boost attention spans. Here’s the truth:

We need small places of refuge because they anchor us in the middle of noisy, demanding lives.

So here’s my gentle encouragement: don’t wait for a vacation or a perfect retreat to find your sanctuary. Look for it in the everyday. In Rest as Resistance, I wrote about how choosing rest can be an act of cultural courage. Today, I want to remind you that it often begins in the smallest places.

3 simple ways to create sanctuary this week:

Choose a space. Find one spot at home (a chair, a desk, a sunny patch on the floor), and make a calming space for yourself there. Visit it daily, even for a few minutes, until it feels like a refuge.
Add a sense. Light a candle, wrap yourself in a blanket, or play music that settles you. Let your body learn: this is where I rest.
Protect the pause. Put your phone away, even for ten minutes. Research shows that short, device-free breaks can reset your nervous system and restore emotional balance. Give yourself enough quiet to hear your own breathing.

Morning sunlight streaming through tall trees onto a quiet neighborhood street, evoking a sense of peace and sanctuary.

And remember:

These little sanctuaries can grow.

Mine began in small ways, but they’ve blossomed into larger rituals: long Saturday mornings spent at the library, and daily morning journaling that helps me slow down and listen. Small practices make space for bigger ones.

If you’d like to explore this further, I recommend Wintering by Katherine May* - a beautiful book about how small rituals and quiet spaces can restore us.

And so, as we step into a season that so often feels overwhelming,