Sanctuary

Except for the occasional foray into the chaotic world beyond these walls—chiefly through the portals of madness…television and internet access—this house has become a sanctuary. Here, an insular cocoon provides protections against the decay of civilization. Those protections take many forms: an undeveloped forest, an absence of neighbors, a refusal to tolerate the inevitability of unwanted intrusions, and a fierce insistence that this safe haven is an impregnable fortress. In other words, dreams and fantasies—combined with unrealistic interpretations of reality—serve as imaginary shields against the unknown and unwanted. This refuge—this asylum—has taken on the mystical attributes of a personal monastery. Something about a private monastic life has always held enormous appeal, fascination, interest…an irresistible draw. But, at the same time, it has been utterly inaccessible. An impossible dream. This morning, though, the distinctions between impossible and achievable seem to blur. Perhaps the obstacles have been placed, historically, by the mind’s inflexibility; its tendency to classify reality as an either/or proposition. Maybe, instead, reality is circumstantial. Maybe reality is defined by the context within which it is measured. And that leads to questioning whether monasticism can exist on a sliding scale; can one lead a monastic life only when one needs that experience, switching back and forth to maintain equilibrium? Recognizing this sanctuary may be the first step in acknowledging the several forms of protection. Emotional safety and outright rebellion can exist in the same person and in the same place. It simply must be recognized and cultivated and protected from encroachment when encroachment has the potential to do the most damage.