Sanctuary Essentials: The Daily Journal
Lately, as I’ve been writing for my book and preparing for upcoming talks, I’ve found myself reflecting on what I call my sanctuary toolbox—the collection of essentials I keep close at hand to make sanctuary not just an idea (or a space), but something I can access wherever I am.
I’ve written before about some of my favorite sanctuary essentials—salt lamps, potted plants, and candles. These objects ground us by bringing the energy of the natural world into our spaces. And of course, this is based on the understanding that we are basically wired to need connection with living things and the energy of the natural world.
Yet their power doesn’t lie in their presence alone, but also in how we interact with them. Lighting a candle or watering a plant: these simple gestures activate our spaces and become quiet daily rituals. And ritual, I believe, is at the very heart of sanctuary.
Ritual can be sacred, like prayer, meditation, or a reflective walk by the water. But it doesn’t have to be overtly religious to be meaningful. For me, ritual is any intentional practice woven into daily life that invites growth, reflection, and deeper connection to ourselves, to our surroundings, and to others. In this way, even the small act of tending to a plant or blowing out a candle becomes a ritual that nourishes and nurtures the sanctuary inside of us.
So let me introduce one of my most prized sanctuary essentials: the journal.
When I speak of a journal as a sanctuary essential, I don’t mean it as a beautiful object resting quietly on a desk. Its true power lies not in its presence, but in the invitation it extends. A journal only becomes a part of sanctuary when pen meets paper, and thought finds form. An embossed leather-bound cover or delicate pages may draw us in, but the real magic happens in the moments of stillness, when we pause to write and allow our inner world to surface. In that act, the journal transforms from object to ritual, guiding us toward the reflection, growth, and peace that this sanctuary practice is meant to awaken.
A journal on its own cannot create a sanctuary—and sometimes even the act of writing is not enough. The invitation is there, yes, but as a designer, I know how much our surroundings shape the depth of our experience. The hum of the television in the background or the sounds of a busy kitchen pull my attention, and I find my thoughts will scatter rather than settle. To truly embrace journaling and writing as a sanctuary practice, I must carve out a space that invites stillness: a quiet, comfortable corner where I can sit undisturbed. In this small haven, journaling becomes more than paper and ink; it becomes a doorway to reflection, introspection, and the inner peace we are all seeking.
In the end, sanctuary isn’t only about lofty ideals or a difficult-to-understand philosophy, it’s simply about creating touchpoints in our everyday lives that ground us.
As a designer, I see this not just in the spaces I create, but in the small details that invite people to pause: a chair tucked near the window, a candle ready to be lit, a journal resting in a quiet corner. These are simple gestures, but they are also powerful tools. They remind us that sanctuary is not something distant or abstract—it is something we can practice, nurture, and return to each day.
With love and gratitude,
Lisa.