Writing as Sanctuary

collage art of parts and pieces by Tina Jensen

The world, and many of us, are unraveling at the seams. We wake up each morning to headlines that sting like open wounds, move through days that ask more of us than we have left to give. We live inside a time that treats urgency like a god, that demands we produce and push and prove our worth through our exhaustion. And here we are: still breathing, still feeling, still imagining, still making meaning out of the wreckage.

Writing in hard times asks for the care of gathering together the parts and pieces, stitching worlds and words together. It is not a task to be completed or a product to be refined until it is worthy of an audience; it is, rather, a practice. It is a slow magic, a way to sit with the unspeakable and give it language. A way to root into the moment instead of numbing against it. A way to bear witness to our own lives when the world would rather have us disappear inside its demands. Writing is a sanctuary we build with our own hands, a place to rest when the world refuses to slow down.

This is why we gather. Why we come together inside the Slow Magic Writing Sanctuary—to resist the machine of urgency, to reclaim writing as a practice instead of a product, to find refuge in words and each other. Because when we slow down, we remember. We remember that our words are not currency, not something to be bought or sold or measured in worth. Our words are offerings. Our words are spells. Our words are what tether us to this world and each other, what allow us to say: I was here. I felt this. I lived.

Inside the Slow Magic Writing Sanctuary, we do not rush. We do not push ourselves to keep pace with the world outside these walls. Instead, we sink in. We listen. We touch pen to paper or fingers to keys and we write—not to impress, not to achieve, not to finish—but to feel. To find what is alive inside us and bring it to the page. To write through the hardness of these times, rather than around it.

This is a sanctuary, not a factory. It is a place where your writing does not have to be useful, where it does not have to serve capitalism’s hunger for content. Here, writing is an act of devotion. An act of care. A way to lay down the armor of performance and sink into the deeper rhythm of what is true.

And we do this together. Because writing is often seen as a solitary act, but the truth is, we need each other. We need spaces where we are witnessed, where we are held in our creative process without judgment or expectation. We need to sit in the quiet together, to breathe and write and let the magic of slowness unravel something deep inside us. We need each other to remember that we are not alone, that even in the hardest times, there is still a place for us, still a way to put one word in front of another, still a way to make meaning when the world does not make sense.

So we gather. We write. We slow down, not as an act of passivity, but as an act of resistance. Because urgency demands that we move too fast to feel, too fast to question, too fast to change. But slowness? Slowness lets us tend to what matters. Slowness lets us hear our own voices beneath the noise of expectation. Slowness lets us remember that writing—like healing, like justice, like love—is not a destination, but a practice. A thing we return to again and again, in times of grief and in times of wonder, in times of certainty and in times of unraveling.

The world is burning and breaking. And still, here we are. Still breathing. Still feeling. Still writing.

Come write with us. Come find sanctuary in the slow magic of your own words.

Slow Magic: spring equinox begins March 9th.
All are welcome. Sign up HERE