Finding Sanctuary

“Sanctuary is wherever I find safe space to regain my bearings, reclaim my soul, heal my wounds, and return to the world as a wounded healer. It’s not merely about finding shelter from the storm: it’s about spiritual survival.”
— Parker J. Palmer, PhD, Author

A few weeks ago, after a long day of emotionally heavy conversations and back-to-back commitments, I stepped outside into the cool evening air. The sunset sky held that late-autumn palette of muted fire with orange fading into indigo, a quiet transition that invites the breath to slow and the heart to open.  I simply stood there and let the internal noise gently settle. For a few moments, I wasn’t clinician, leader, teacher, fixer, or responder. I was simply a human being who needed some space for recalibration.   

Upon reflection, that brief pause was a moment of sanctuary – a space to realign with who I am beneath all the roles I carry. It is anywhere the soul can loosen its armor long enough to remember itself. We often imagine sanctuary as escape, but what if it’s actually preparation? What if stepping out of the storm, even briefly, is what allows us to step back into it with greater compassion, clarity, and even conviction?

As I stood there, I realized how rarely we give ourselves permission to claim these small but essential spaces. And yet the research is compelling. Regular micro-moments of restoration such as stepping outdoors, breathing deeply, sitting quietly, or simply noticing nature through a window, can lower stress hormones, improve cognitive clarity, and replenish emotional reserves. The natural world in particular has a remarkable way of resetting the nervous system, even in small doses. Sanctuary, then, is not self-indulgence; it is maintenance – a subtle but vital form of repair.

In our work, where the storms can be relentless and often invisible to others, sanctuary is not optional. It is essential infrastructure for the soul. Without it, we risk losing the bearings that keep us oriented toward the purpose, presence, and the people who matter most. When I eventually walked back inside, nothing in the world around me had changed – but I had. My shoulders had dropped. My breath was deeper. My capacity felt wider. Sanctuary doesn’t fix everything, but it restores enough for the next right step.

So this week, when you check in with your PeerRx partner or another colleague, consider sharing a moment of sanctuary you’ve recently experienced, even if it lasted only a few minutes, even if it was the simple settling of one intentional breath. And then ask, gently and without hurry: “Where are each of us finding or creating sanctuary today to regain our bearings?”  You never know how that simple pause might help someone weather their own storms with a little more grace – and a lot more soul.