Within yourself is a stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself.
~Herman Hesse~
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I like being in that place — sanctuary!
Sanctuary is sometimes a place where I can focus on what I need to do. Sanctuary means penciled lists of “Needful Things,” or a cold beer over a night’s thought, washing dishes or clothes, or the catatonic state of “vacuuming” or “mowing the yard,” or just losing yourself on some running machine.
Quiet home and things to read … maybe the TV going with some movie in the background. Popcorn at hand. I am so used to “noise,” that I often crave it when it’s not there, and on some rare occasion, I might even get some ironic mix with the background dialogue of a movie and foreground of my thoughts — as if they were speaking to each other, and so suddenly a line from the movie “Apocalypse Now” makes special sense when reading part 2 of “Heart of Darkness”:
… [E]xotic Immensity ruled by an august Benevolence,” writes Conrad of Kurtz’ presence — Kurtz who has worked his own sanctuary in primeval world … “the unbounded power … the magic current … the exposition of a method … luminous and terrifying, like a flash of lightning in a serene sky:”
REAL SANCTUARY? Maybe something similar to Jim Jones?
How deep into “sanctuary can I go before I become the frozen Narcissus?”
I am so collective in being that recognition of “self” as an individual seems a little difficult. I am melded to my work, to my own reflection, and that sanctuary is irreparably connected.
But sanctuary is one of those words that fits right in with “mission.”