Welcome . . . to another Friday in the Sanctuary.

May you find a few moments of peace and respite here today. Life is tough. We all need to protect our peace.

C’mon in.
Take a break with me.

First, let me explain where I am . . . right now.

When I was a kid (and even when I was already adult-age), I always wondered how I’d know I was . . . “an adult.” I mean, I never had any kind of “graduation ceremony” that officially moved me from childhood to adulthood. (I realize that some cultures do have official ceremonies; mine . . . does not.) For me, the thing that finally made me understand I was an adult . . .  was background noise. That ever-present hum . . . of Worrying About Something. Health. Money. Relationships. Work. Safety. Needing to take care of unpleasant responsibilities.

I’m sure you know it, too . . . that hum . . . of adulthood.

Until the last few years, my ever-present hum never really included . . . worrying about my country, democracy, justice-and-liberty-for-all. I thought that was just constant. Like . . . gravity. But, of course, now that is part of my hum too. And that part of the hum has become . . . well. Very loud – and very persistent.

I try to find ways to drown out the hum, with varying degrees of success. Usually by looking for beauty. (But any success is short lived.)

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So. I wrote all that bit above – about “the hum” – yesterday, as I was pulling together my draft of this Sanctuary post. And then this morning, I opened my email to find the weekly newsletter from poet James Crews and it included . . . this very poem! I need to incorporate this perfect poem into today’s post. (When you read it, you’ll understand why.)

Background Hum
James Crews

Always in the background now
like music I never switched on,
this fear for my country’s future
carting off every good thought,
all the crumbs of beauty I have
stored up over the past few years.
Even when I lean in to breathe
the sweet scent of Joe Pye weed
growing wild beside the forest path,
even as I close my eyes to receive
its perfume like a sacrament, letting 
fuzzy pink petals tickle the tip 
of my nose—I don’t forget the hum 
of worry alive beneath the skin,
though sometimes it grows almost 
too quiet to hear, like a field mouse 
trembling under fallen leaves
as he waits for me to pass.

So. If you’re experiencing this same kind of ever-louder and more persistent background hum, please know you’re not alone. Keep looking for beauty. It’s everywhere around us. And it might keep the hum in check . . . at least for a heartbeat or two.

Let’s look for beauty in nature . . .

Like this video of migratory snow geese arriving in the Skagit Valley. (Although . . . if I witnessed this in real life – right up close and in person – I’d be a little panicky. But it’s lovely and magical to see in someone else’s video!)

Let’s look for beauty in music . . .

Methinks this might be AI in action, but I say . . . who cares. It’s beautiful to listen to and soothing to watch. (And I’ll take that!)

Let’s look for beauty in movement . . .

This is Elladj Baldé, a Canadian professional figure skater, in action. You can learn more about him and his organization, the Art of Performance, here. Enjoy his beautiful and expressive skating . . . and maybe quiet your hum for a moment.

And that’ll do it for this week, my friends.

Diana Weymar
The Tiny Pricks Project

I hope you’ve found some . . . Sanctuary. . . here today.
At least for a few minutes.

Enjoy your weekend.
Rest.
Notice the beauty around you. Breathe it in. Hold it in your heart.

We must keep moving.

ONWARD.
Protect your peace!