All of my life I have been a two-world dweller.
One world has been governed by schedules and expectations. Shoes were obligatory and cultural assumptions and tasks shaped the days.
The other world featured wide open barefoot living. The song of water moving and the particular of the light set the stage for exploration. Schedules were set by flesh needs. Lights got turned off when books were ready to be put down for a time. The day began with the dance of light reflected from the lake onto the oak leaves outside my window.
At the cabin, I was immersed in wonder.
I lived sanctuary as a child, and I have savored it into my adult life.
I am going through deep soul change. The cabin is soon to be adopted by a new family. Others will learn the rhythm of the days and the protocols of communal life (don’t make noise before nine AM, honor the privacy of neighbors, realize that if you get a jet ski you might be shunned). The cabin will be inhabited by a different branch of the clan Macaulay.
I pray that it will be sanctuary and wonder-full for them.
My soul is paying attention during this time of transition. Who will I be without the place of my heart?
I’m praying plenty about how it is that sanctuary is not containable. The peace and freedom nurtured by the logs in the cabin breathes in all places. The soul hum of full welcome lives beyond Sand Lake. I know this in my head.
And, my heart knows that the sacred of the particular is real.
Letting go, blessing, and living into being an integrated one-world dweller are work for these days and beyond.
Perhaps it is time to bring my worlds together; to realize that the sun-dance on water and the treasured smell of a place are witnesses to something so much larger.
I live in God’s expansive world.
I don’t have to own a piece of it to know the peace of it.