ISSUE NO. 15 | Feb 11, 2026
When the world feels heavy, choosing beauty becomes an act of care. Thoughtful reflections on garden design, sanctuary, and choosing beauty as a grounding practice for wellbeing, peace, and healing at home.


When the world feels heavy, choosing beauty becomes an act of care. Thoughtful reflections on garden design, sanctuary, and choosing beauty as a grounding practice for wellbeing, peace, and healing at home.

Creating a sanctuary garden is not a luxury. It’s an act of resilience and sacred responsiveness (and thus responsibility) to who you are here to be. Because when we build sanctuaries — even small ones — we are participating in something larger than ourselves.

A sanctuary garden - whether on a grand scale or a single window box - becomes an altar to our inner world and personal journey when planted with intention. When you design with your personal story, values, and desires in mind, and collaborate with natural energies and "intelligence" of the site, you create not just beauty, but belonging and connection.

Despite the marketing, this is not a season of hustle. It’s the season of unfurling and re-becoming something more wild and real. The peonies are swelling, the edges of spring are softening into what will soon be early summer, and if you listen closely… you’ll hear it: A quiet invitation. A whisper from the wild. A reminder from nature that sanctuary is not something you find — it’s something you feel. And flowers are here to help you remember how. In Part 2 of my “Sanctuary of Flowers” series, we explore how working with blooms — planting, arranging, soaking, or simply sitting with them — opens more than your senses. It opens portals. To stillness. To presence. To the sacred possibility that you are not behind, not without hope, not too much. You are simply ready to bloom, gracefully, paced and something a bit wild.

Flowers bring us back to the parts of ourselves we exiled in service to everyone else. That edge-of-tears tenderness? That sigh that escapes when your hand brushes a blossom at dusk? That is not nothing. That's remembrance. You don’t have to know why you feel a lump rise in your throat around lilac. Or why peonies make you ache for something you can’t quite name. You only have to be willing to let flowers work on you — like the gentle Sanctuary soul-midwives they are.

Not all forms of escape are the same. Some numb. Others ignite. The prettier kind I’m speaking of doesn’t take you away from yourself—it draws you closer. Closer to your voice. Closer to joy. Closer to calm. It’s a type of beauty that brings you back to rhythm. Back to breath. Back to the quiet marvel of being alive. It’s the kind of sanctuary that doesn’t just look good—it feels good. And more than that, it offers a true return on wellbeing.
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