Finding Peace and Joy in a Sanctuary

The growing dark night has brought a near-wintry cold, including a brief snow shower that covered the ground and remaining crops. Temperatures have mainly been in the 40s and 50s for highs with frosty nights in the 20s and 30s. The gardens have had most of their crops harvested, with winter root crops like parsnips, turnips and sunchoke left in the soil to be harvested in the next months. Growers of corn and beans have harvested their crops; Anabaptist (Amish) growers have gathered their corn stalks into pyramidal sheaves, left in the fields for animals to graze on during winter pasture and return the nutrients to the precious soil.

In the cold frosts the leaves from most trees have fallen, to rot and replenish the soil in the dark nights of winter. In our climate, the damp, cold, rotting stillness of winter is an essential time of rest and nourishment of the most basic elements of life—the ground that is the basis for all life.

Knowing that a cold snap was on its way, I harvested the last of the Arugula from the garden, a tangy treat of greens that both begins and ends our growing season. A few days later, I was surprised by the snow that accompanied the cold days and decided to gather the last of our Lacinato kale, a very hearty dark green that had ice and snow on some of the leaves. I shook most of the ice off the kale and stored the cold leaves in our refrigerator for a few days to allow them to recover from the shock of transitioning from freezing cold to the luxurious warm of our heated home. I removed stems, froze a large bag of kale leaves for use in winter soups, and turned the rest into Pesto Toscano, using garlic, cheese and olive oil to create a savory paste. Like the leaves, I froze the pesto for future use.

As the fall weather continued, a large flock of Cedar Waxwings flew into our yard and gorged themselves on red berries from the honeysuckle bush in our front yard. For several years, the large shrub’s berries remained on the branches through fall into winter, left uneaten by the surrounding animals and birds. This year, however, the Cedar Waxwings discovered the bountiful crop and delighted themselves in a feeding frenzy. As always with the produce of nature, simply by plants offering up the gift of life, animals and others discover the gift, digest the fruit and pass the seed on elsewhere in partnerships of life the spread the range of both plants and animals. It is an affirmation of the power and wisdom of good works to bring forth life simply by offering themselves to the abundant Earth.

In the slower times of late fall, with our food club ending its season in October, I turned to reviewing notes for the next book I intend to publish, Fulfillment. Feeling daunted by the title itself, I looked through the notes and found that my younger self had left me important advice for my present workaday life. Rather than focusing on outward achievements, the book begins with the importance of creating a sanctuary and living fully within it, thereby strengthening my life through inner peace and joy.

In the past few years, the hubbub of my life, accompanied by the normal dramas and hardships of mortal life, has taken me far from my own sanctuary. My time at home and with my loved ones have been spent with a pre-occupation not with the joys we can share but with worries and frustrations in the human world around us. I had let challenges from the outside world into our lives, rather than seeking to protect that sanctuary from those same challenges.

Following the advice of my younger self, who apparently had insight for me to learn from, I began to practice having sanctuary time in my home. I woke each morning and listened to pleasant music while I had tea and breakfast. I paused after coming home from the day’s work before engaging with my dear wife, so that I can shake off the frustrations and worries of the day and connect with her. After a couple of weeks of doing this, I decided to enter into a news fast, having decided that I knew enough about the outside world.

After a month of practicing my sanctuary time, I began to feel true ease. Rather than pondering the frustrations of the moment, I found myself enjoying plans about the food I would cook for a meal, or making notes about gardening, brewing beer, and our family life. In doing so, I emptied my mind of the clutter of problems outside our home and found peace and joy waiting for me to celebrate.

While sounding indulgent to many, the sanctuary time I am practicing and enjoying is much more than selfish hedonism. The time and place of the sanctuary gives me strength to be a better person in my family and my personal world, to take stock of what I can and cannot do, and to strengthen my spirit. It is my experience that as I gain peace, joy and insight, I can be a better, more effective person.

Whatever I have to offer is strengthened by the sanctuary I seek. Taking time to truly feel the joys of life gives me deep gratitude for all our good fortune in this hard and wonderful world. That, in and of itself, makes me a better person, a better husband and stepfather, and a better member of our community.