06/29/2026
Sanctuary Notes No. 1
Who Is Your Garden Really For?
I was listening to Madonna the other day, and one line stuck with me.
“Ask yourself this question… who are you doing it for? Is it for you, or for them?”
Oddly enough, it made me think about gardens.
Most people create a landscape because they want the neighbors to admire it, friends to compliment it, or because they feel they should have a beautiful yard.
But what if your garden wasn’t for them?
What if it was for you?
For me, my garden has become something much more than a collection of plants. It has become my sanctuary.
It’s where I sit for hours with a cup of coffee. It’s where I practice Tai Chi. It’s where I write. It’s where I quietly process whatever life has placed in front of me. Sometimes I simply watch a dragonfly drift through the garden. Sometimes I disappear into the canopy of a tree until my thoughts finally become still.
The plants are thriving because I care for them.
In return, they care for me.
I’ve come to believe that tending a garden is part of the healing itself. Watering, pruning, sweeping a path, or moving a favorite pot into just the right light aren’t chores. They’re quiet acts of creation. Small reminders that we still have the ability to nurture something living.
That’s one reason I love container gardens. As the seasons change and the sun’s path shifts north and south across the sky, potted plants can follow the light. Rearranging them becomes less about gardening and more about creating a new experience for yourself. Sometimes simply moving a few pots is enough to refresh your spirit.
Every sanctuary begins with a feeling.
Close your eyes.
What do you see?
Is it lush and green with the sound of moving water? Or is it dry, warm, and scented with sage? Neither is right or wrong. It simply needs to feel like home.
Then choose the place.
It should be easy to reach, yet feel tucked away. Protected. Free from watching eyes.
During the day I want to be beneath a tree, wrapped in its canopy.
At night, I want open sky and stars.
Think about when you’ll naturally use your sanctuary. Dawn with coffee? A quiet hour in the afternoon? Five o’clock for Tai Chi? After dark when the breeze arrives? The rhythm of your day should help shape the garden.
Infrastructure matters, too. A comfortable chair. Water nearby. An electrical outlet. Good lighting. Perhaps Wi-Fi if you enjoy reading or writing outdoors. These aren’t luxuries—they make your sanctuary inviting enough that you’ll return to it again and again.
One ingredient is often overlooked.
Ritual.
Not religion.
Ritual.
The most healing gardens become part of your daily rhythm. Morning coffee. Five minutes before work. Watching the first hummingbird arrive. Turning on the garden lights at dusk. Watering a favorite fern. These repeated moments quietly tell your mind, “When I come here, I can let go.”
Most of all, your sanctuary needs a reason to call you back tomorrow.
A garden is never complete without you in it.
That’s why I encourage people to care for at least part of it themselves. Even if someone else helps maintain the landscape, there should always be something that’s yours—a favorite pot, a treasured fern, a flowering vine, or a tree planted in memory of someone you love.
These become your spiritual plants.
Not because they’re rare.
Because they hold your story.
People often ask me what the most important room in a home is.
My answer is simple.
It’s the one you return to when you need to feel like yourself again.
And sometimes, that room isn’t inside at all.
A sanctuary isn’t something you build.
It’s something you return to.
A place where your spirit remembers how to breathe.
Cultivate Wonder.
