How do you hold sanctuary as order tumbles into chaos? This is the hard question I mull on my way to the donkey barn. As I cross the creek, a rooster crows, momentarily drowning the calls of songbirds and spring peepers. The daffodils, bluebells, and tulip magnolias are in bloom. It’s a bright, sunshiny morning — and I am in hell.
Moab, our baby llama, is injured. Three weeks ago, running down a hill, he fell. He soon walked it off, but was off-balance the next day. Finding no fracture, the vet prescribed an anti-inflammatory pain reliever, and slowly, Moab got mostly better. Then, early this morning, I found Moab lying on his side in the dirt, and I knew he was in trouble.
In
It’s been a year since the start of Sentient Sanctuary. We’ve made great progress, and I feel blessed to live in this idyllic refuge with our cats, goats, chickens, llamas, and donkeys. Winter was hard. But I don’t mind the work. Our mission of “more happiness and less suffering for all sentient beings, including humans,” gives me purpose. And, now that the grass is greener, you’d think life in sanctuary is joyful.
Sentient Sanctuary
Out
At the borders of our sanctuary are signs: No Hunting, No Trespassing. But in a world of black mirrors, we can’t keep the bad out. I am haunted by unlawful mass firings, extraordinary renditions, and genocide. If the purpose of a system is what it does, the purpose of this regime is clear — “less happiness and more suffering for all sentient beings, including humans.” I see, through a glass darkly, the evils of the outside, and wonder how to hold sanctuary as order collapses into fascism.
No Hunting, No Trespassing
Advaya
In Buddhism, advaya or “not two” invokes nonduality. The false dichotomies of self-other and mind-body are imaginary. So too are the borders of our sanctuary, as in and out are deeply intertwingled. We are both sanctuary and think tank. We save lives and change minds. Our refuge is a safe haven, but it’s not a place to hide.
Since our mission is at odds with that of the regime, resistance is the plan. We must stand up and speak out — for immigrants, minorities, queer and trans folk, women, journalists, civil servants, activists, and animals. As Audre Lorde says,
There is no hierarchy of oppressions.
We must fight, publicly, for truth, decency, the rights of all sentient beings, and the rule of law, because while cowardice is contagious, so too are courage and compassion.
Maitrī
Our most vital work is maitrī, the practice of lovingkindness. We do our absolute best for our animals, while also educating the public and cultivating local community.
Moab
In this particular moment, maitrī means caring for Moab. Earlier, I gave him medicine. Now that the chickens, goats, cats, donkeys, and llamas are sorted, it’s time to plan. But I don’t know what to do. As I near, Moab stands, staggers, and falls. I think he has injured (and re-injured) his spine. The vet says to bring him to the clinic for an x-ray. But we don’t have a trailer, and he’s 150 pounds, so I don’t know how.
We adopted 5 llamas a couple months ago — Galinda, her daughter Elphaba, Kikimora, her son Magick, and Moab. He’s an orphan. And, technically, Moab is not a llama. He’s a llapaca, an alpaca-llama cross. That’s why his bone structure is so delicate relative to the others. But they are family. Magick and Moab are the same age (10 months old). And they are best friends forever. It’s joyful to watch them play.
Magick
Our neighbors help us to lift Moab into the Subaru Crosstrek. At the clinic, I sit with him in a dog kennel for an hour. At last, the vet has time. But, upon inspection, she says he’s unlikely to recover, and an x-ray won’t help. So we take him home.
In the barn, I make Moab as comfortable as I can. I prop his body with hay bales. He eats but won’t drink. I hope for a miracle. But the next morning, he’s even worse. I sit with Moab. The llamas watch over us. Normally, they’d be off to pasture. But they won’t leave him behind. He and they moan together, sharing the sound of sadness.
I call the vet. Moab is suffering. There’s no hope. We set a time. But how will we bury him? I reach out for help. I sit with Moab. I love him. I hope he knows that.
My phone rings. It’s the 16 year old co-founder of Finally Home Animal Haven. Natalie says her family has a tractor, and she can dig a grave today. I burst into tears. I can’t help myself. I am overcome with emotion by the courage and compassion of a teenager.
Too soon, the vet is here. I sit with Moab. I stroke his face. I tell Moab I love him. My wife arrives just in time. I hadn’t thought to tell her. It may be luck but feels like fate. Susan says a prayer. She tells Moab he’ll soon be with his mama. This is so hard. I’ve never cried so much in my life. All that’s left to do is to say our last goodbye.
Afterwards, we give the llamas some time with the body. The adults understand death. But Magick is confused. He uses his mouth to lift his best friend’s leg, again and again. Magick wants to play. It takes an hour or so for him to realize his friend is gone.
We bury Moab at the edge of a field. It’s a beautiful place to rest. But my work is not done. I must share our sad news with family and friends, and now with you.
Holding Sanctuary
The original purpose of this post was fundraising. We need to raise $12,500 this year to provide all of our beloved animals with food, shelter, and veterinary care. If you are able to make a donation, please do. We are grateful to all who help us to help animals.
I had a plan, but we lost our llama, and I was moved to write from the heart. So this is a genre bender — a love story, fundraising letter, and a call to arms. Sentient Sanctuary is a sanctuary without borders. We care for all sentient beings, especially those who are different. And we see the practice of lovingkindness as a powerful act of resistance.
Claudia and Moab
To say “Love Wins” is trite, and it’s the truth. Anger is part of grief, and so is gratitude. I am grateful for the time we had with Moab. I am grateful he lived in a beautiful home with friends and family. And I am grateful to all the people who helped along the way.
This regime is contemptuous of empathy. They believe that love makes us weak. But the exact opposite is the truth. LOVE MAKES US STRONG. Narcissism breeds fear. Compassion stirs courage. So I will fight for all sentient beings, including humans, and I do hope you’ll join me, because only together, with love, can we truly hold sanctuary.