on tending rather than fixing

Lately, I've been reflecting on the difference between fixing and tending.

The thought first came to me while thinking about sleep. Not sleep quality. Not sleep scores. Just sleep itself.

Every night we surrender consciousness, and every morning we are returned to ourselves.

Yet even something as miraculous as sleep can become another thing to measure, track, improve, and optimize.

And the more I sat with it, the more I realized this reflection isn't really about sleep.

It's about the way many of us have learned to relate to ourselves.

Especially as women.

It feels like every season of womanhood now comes with a solution…something to improve…something to fix…something to overcome.

And while there is nothing wrong with growth, healing, learning, or seeking support, I sometimes find myself wondering…at what point did we begin relating to ourselves as problems to solve rather than people to listen to?

A few years ago, if something felt off in my life, I would often ask: how do I fix this or fix myself?

Today, I find myself asking a different question: what is this season trying to tell me? The difference feels subtle, but important.

One question begins with correction. The other begins with curiosity.

One assumes something is wrong. The other begins by listening.

The older I get, the more I find myself drawn toward listening rather than fixing.

Toward tending rather than managing.

Toward relationship rather than control.

I love the word tending. It's what we do to a garden. It's what we do to something we love.

It is patient. Gentle. Present.

It doesn't rush…it doesn't shame…it simply cares.

I wonder if that is what many of us are truly longing for.

Not another method.

Not another expert.

Not another thing to do.

But a little more space.

A little more gentleness.

A little more listening.

A little more care.

And perhaps this is why the word sanctuary continues to find its way into my life.

When I think of sanctuary, I don't think of a place where something gets improved.

I think of a place where something precious is cared for. Protected. Honored. Allowed to simply be…

What if we extended some of that same gentleness toward ourselves?

What if this season of your life is not a problem to solve?

What if your body is not failing you?

What if you are not behind?

What if this season carries a wisdom that cannot be rushed?

Perhaps the invitation is not to strive harder.

Perhaps the invitation is simply to pause.

To place a hand on your heart. To listen.

And to trust that there is wisdom within you that no metric, score, or expert can fully access.

And perhaps before reaching for another answer, we might remember something simple: we are not machines…we are not projects…we are living, breathing human beings worthy of care.

And maybe what we need most is not another solution.

Maybe what we need is a little more sanctuary.

— Madina

If these words stirred something in you, perhaps they're inviting you to pause. To listen. And, if it feels supportive, to do so alongside someone who will simply meet you where you are. That's the heart behind Sanctuary Sessions.