I have some places around the house I love to be. They are my sanctuaries.
One place is upstairs off our master bedroom. I’ve set up a simple meditation table. I sit on the little couch in front of it and light a candle.
Another sanctuary is the patio that my husband and I built in 2005. Well, he did the engineering and brick-setting, and I helped lift 1000 square feet of concrete bricks. It was grueling work. But now this is a lovely spot, especially in the summer when I plant flowers around the perimeter and the fountain is trickling. This is where I worked through the shock of this stage IV cancer diagnosis.

A third place I love is on the couch where I curl up sometimes to rest under a cozy blanket. The dog hops up and settles in behind me, and sometimes the cat joins me too. Here they’re both piled on.
I also gravitate to my daughter’s old room, which is now my art studio. This is where I let my creativity flow and see what happens. It’s a room of mystery and discovery.
And . . . my most important sanctuary, of course, is the one within. We all have this resource, this internal oasis. Wherever we are, we can settle into a sanctuary of peace and healing love.
This inner sanctuary is my steady communion with the source of life. Sinking into this inner sanctuary, for me, is settling into a beloved space and dwelling in acceptance, wonderment, and gratitude. Any emotion that comes up — or no emotion at all — is okay. Speaking is okay; so is chanting, singing, and silence (my preferred state, being a contemplative). A pet jumping into my lap and curling up for a nap is okay. It’s all okay.
Sanctuary is a safe place, a haven in the midst of the tumult that cancer often brings.


