Steward of Sanctuaries
When I start my writing work each day, I read this aloud.
I write what God gives me.
I serve with story, breath and broken beauty.
I listen. I remember.
I convey what burns true.
All else falls away.
When I create my next residency, similarly there's a guideline.
Some years ago a doomed English Rowing Team adopted a question that became the filter for all. Attitudes, activities, associates.
Will this make the boat go faster?
A simple to understand clarifier. And once something is more clear, it's imminently more actionable. Clarity brings dynamism.
For me now it's: will this X, Y or Z increase the heat in the authorial forge that is my life?
Will this residency — regardless of appearances, features, location or any other practical data that my left brain would love to use — add flame?
Duration. How long will I be there. I believe — and so make actual — that my life, work, impact succeeds based on the depth and meaning therein.
When I arrive someplace new, the living ecosystem that I inhabit and use immediately begins a complex and intense process of sensing all aspects of the environment and adjusting accordingly. This takes several days.
It thrilled me that I boarded the Nevermore Saturday evening and was working on my manuscript full tilt by 10:30am Sunday morning. I am inspiration and never wait upon it.
During the nervous system calibration period, my vibration deepens hour by hour. In about three days I reach a cruising altitude optimal for deep work.
So, I seldom filter for a residency of less than one month duration.
Exceptions may be.
My first Sanctuary Stewardship, in Evergreen, Colorado, ended prior to the agreed upon date. The home owner decided to cut their trip early.
The service I pay for vetting the home-owners, aka pet parents, assures me that someone cancelling a sit early — as did the people that belonged to Ollie and Burl — is a rarity.
I hope so.
Having booked that stay in Evergreen, Colorado on a Saturday morning in December, and then flown there that very night, I felt luxuriously stable creating arrangements from there.
Before we'd even entered January, I booked the next residency to start the same day we finish — January 14. I even booked my flight to coincide with the pet parent's landing such that I could deliver me to the airport and his car to him curbside just after he landed.
Next day: "sorry. I have to come home earlier than planned. Very sorry. I have no choice."
I was blessed with the opportunity to create optimal conditions for the 11 day gap that had just been created.
Several impassioned conversations had I with my nervous system.
It: "dude, where are we going to sleep as of Saturday?"
Me: "chill out. We are safe.
We are always safe.
We have lodging tonight.
As is always the case, my outer world adjusted after I adjusted my inner world.
New declaration:
I am that I thrive in my Supreme Sanctuary — now and always — the perfect expression of my peace, power, purpose and prosperity. For the next two weeks, I thrive in a phenomenal living situation that optimally supports my work.
The next morning: with great curiosity, I looked into the world to see how it would arrange itself to fit my declaration.
I could rent a place in Evergreen.
Visit friends in Boulder
Take another Sanctuary Stewardship Gig.
I could head to Port Townsend (my next location) early.
The filter: what will best heat the forge?
I recalled: I'd just been speaking with my friend, Noah, long time partial resident of Port Townsend.
The least adjustment and logistical cost was to arrive in my next destination 11 days early. Less travel, less friction, more creation.
Phone call with Noah:
"There's always the boat. We've got a bluff house AirBnB rental, so that depends on availability."
Four suitcase wheels broke moving through SeaTac, the LightRail to Symphony Station wasn't available, and so I opted for RideShare, which brought me to the ferry.
My next house sit hosts picked me up and drove me to the marina.
Tired and cold laid great conditions for me to lose awareness long enough to focus on what was missing (toilet, hot shower, daylight in my work area).
Luckily the rock of the harbor water lulled me into a gorgeous sleep. I woke with sanity returned. Grateful for the blessing of warmth, a floating museum curated over thirty years with love of wooden marine-craft as well as spirit's of the Pacific North West indigenous culture.
A great history of words penned aboard vessels inspired me. As did the romantic glow from the lamps reflected off the loved-up cedar boards.
By eleven am I was in writing mode. Within two days I'd finished the last sections of the first draft.
Walking through Port Townsend became my yoga. I interspersed it with writing sessions. With daily coin operated showers.
Though I spoke to few people, I did make a friend.
Later I learned that river otters look cute, however their presence on a raft is akin to a squirrel getting into one's attic. Not good.
Three days aboard.
A new four-pass editing process was born, which brought me over Movements one through four of my current manuscript.
The House on the Bluff.
Port Townsend, Washington.
Early January.
Sunrise: 8am
Sunset: 4:45pm.
After 21 years of living in the tropics, I say: this ain't that!
It's like being a kid back in Maine in the winter.
Daniel text to AI:
I haven't slept until 8 am for the last 480 years. It feels weird. What are the medicinal qualities and benefits of hibernation.
Distilled AI response:
Depth
I'm down! Pun coincidental.
In order to be the greatest author of all time (birthing a world of divine emergence), two activities are most key.
Writing.
Reading.
I wrote.
I read.
I'm loving:
Mary Stewart's The Hollow Hills (my first listen ever, first time revisiting her classic series since I was a boy). Merlin ain't no joke.
Bo Eason's There's No Plan B for Your A-Game. Every time I watch, listen, read Bo, I remember who I am. I get associated with truth, with my declarations, with the infinite power of creation.
Mary Karr's The Art of Memoir. Since my writng has evolved into a new realm, and while I will not be limited by any precedent or existing dogma, I am loving learning more about this genre.
"I create my environment, and my environment creates me."
—Principle 22
I write. I edit. I convey what burns true.
I walk, I read. I make and eat delicious food.
Forest bathing, communion with tree and forest spirits.
Chocolate superfood smoothies by day. Roasted veggies by night.
What is worthy of you? What are you willing to be the best in the world at?
