My Sanctuary

Quest for Eternal Sunshine, Chapter 27

The most desirable piece of real estate I ever owned was a place located on a plateau in the midst of a beautiful mountain range, and it never cost me a cent. I called it “my sanctuary,” and it was a place of rest and leisure where the health of my body and the well-being of my mind were restored and invigorated. This sanctuary was one of my most often used visualizations. With time, it became as real, perhaps even more so, as any place I had ever inhabited. 

My sanctuary had a large, oval lake fed by a waterfall that originated from the snow-covered mountains above. Its crystal-clear water was so transparent that you could see all the way to the bottom. The water temperature was comfortable—slightly cooler in the morning, a little warmer in the afternoon—and always inviting and soothing. Wrapped around the lake were gar- dens overflowing with beautiful, fragrant flowers, softly sloping hills, and tall trees that reached up toward the heavens. The trees stood ever upright, guarding my sanctuary from the countless negative thought forms floating around on earth. 

Resting on the velvety green pasture, soothed by the sounds of the waterfall rushing down the mountainside, my mind went silent. Bathed in the healing powers of nature, I watched the tall trees swaying softly in the breeze against the clear blue sky as the sun warmed my body. I was at peace, protected not only from the constant strife and confusion pervading the “real world” but also from fear itself. 

No apples, pears, or apricots ever tasted as sweet as they did in my sanctuary. I never tired of the flower garden, and the water- fall was always a source of childlike delight. I could choose the color of the water at will, and I alternated it to match my mood. As I stood underneath the cascade and allowed the fresh water to run over my body, I was cleansed of all my sins, doubts, and fears. 

Between the forest and the gardens was a small, round house with large windows framing magnificent views. The entire home was a simply furnished bedroom that blended harmoniously with the outdoors. Special hinges on the large, red oak doors enabled them to move with only the slightest touch of a finger. Despite their massive weight, the doors opened and closed as if they were floating on air. 

To the north, there was a road stretching out to infinity that I knew I must inevitably walk one day. This road represented the enigma of life, the puzzle of creation. I had no idea where it went, but I knew it would lead somewhere wonderful. 

The only people I invited into my sanctuary were my wife and daughters. Edith was a frequent visitor. Holding hands, we would walk the grounds and appreciate the beauty all around us. Ruthie and Myra loved to swim in the lake and were fascinated by the monkeys in the forest. The waterfall was their favorite. 

The more I visited my sanctuary, the sharper the focus and the more intense the experience. After many happy years, it became a part of my consciousness and an extension of myself. 

My sanctuary is still very much alive in me now. I think about it with pleasure and satisfaction, returning to it whenever my needs or fancy take me there. 

I suspect that my sanctuary exists on some level of reality that cannot be explained—a place that is open to the public, where everyone is welcome.