Blissful Mornings - Eliama’s Sanctuary

In a quiet valley cradled between ocean cliffs and lavender fields, there lived a woman

named Eliama. Her name was not widely known, but the ones who knew her, spoke it with a

hush, as though evoking the name of a sacred grove.

Eliama had once wandered the world in search of meaning—through temples, cities, grief-

filled deserts, and mountaintop silences. For years, she listened more than she spoke, letting

the world teach her through wind, sorrow, and wonder. And when the time came, she

returned to a little-known piece of land passed down from her grandmother, a place she

called the Sanctuary of the Heart.

She did not advertise it. There was no sign on the gate, no formal invitation. Only those who

truly needed it found their way there—guided not by map, but by ache.

There, she planted time.

Not thyme, the herb, but time itself.

She cultivated spaces where people could sit in slowness, where a mother and child could

share an unhurried cup of tea and remember how to speak without words. Where elders

could cry without explaining. Where artists could unfreeze their creativity, and where

wanderers, like she once was, could pause and feel themselves again.

Children came and played among the wildflowers, not knowing they were standing in a

legacy. Teenagers sat beneath fig trees and shared secrets they didn’t dare say at home.

Even adults, worn by the speed of the world, knelt in her garden as if the soil itself knew

how to forgive.

Eliama would rarely speak of what the sanctuary was. She would simply smile and say,

“This place remembers who you are.”

When she passed on, the sanctuary did not close. The seeds she sowed remained, not just in

earth, but in hearts.

Now, years later, her journal is found tucked into a carved wooden box near the old olive

tree. In it, written in faded ink, is a single line:

“The quiet legacy I built is not in stone or fame, but in the pause that let someone remember

their soul.”

-Bliss Chains Authors