• by Diane Hope •
As October deepens, the sanctuary takes on a softer rhythm. Mornings are hushed, evenings stretch longer, and the world seems to slow, inviting us to listen more closely.
There are places here where silence holds its own presence: the bench beneath an ancient oak, where all generations have sat in wonder and reflection; the meditation hall just before dawn, where breath and stillness seem to weave together; hidden paths where the sound of footsteps blend with the wind. These spaces remind us that peace is never far — that it lives within us, waiting for us to return.
We spend so much of life searching — for answers, for clarity, for meaning — yet again and again, the path leads inward. There is a sanctuary within us that has always been whole, untouched by circumstance, unchanged by time. When we pause long enough to rest there, even for a moment, the weight we’ve been carrying softens.
The journey isn’t about becoming someone new; it’s about remembering who we already are. Beneath all the striving and the noise, there is a steady presence, a quiet belonging, a light that has never gone out.
Within me, there is a sanctuary of light, quiet, and belonging. When I rest there, I am home.