Defending Our Natural Sanctuaries

Preserving the Sanctuaries That Ground and Uplift Us All

When I first arrived in Washington D.C., over a decade ago, I noticed how the first question after “What’s your name?” is often “Where do you work?” It reminded me of my time in Uganda, where the question was always “What’s your name?” and “Where do you go to church?”

My answer was usually some version of: nature is my church, nature is my god. I didn’t try to explain it in detail in a culture so steeped in organized religion, but I knew the places where I felt most connected, most alive, and most humbled were outdoors, under trees, along rivers, or on the quiet forest floor.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on that question again, especially as we work alongside colleagues to defend America’s remaining roadless forests. Just last week, public comments closed on this administration’s proposal to rescind the Roadless Rule, protections that safeguard some of our last unbroken forests.

A colleague in Pennsylvania reminded us of something both simple and profound. Their comment on the Roadless Rule noted:

“One of the many benefits of roadless areas to America’s citizens is an opportunity to seek contact with the divine in a place free of modern, worldly distractions. The proposal to repeal the Roadless Rule violates our constitutional right to freedom of religion in this regard.”

That truth sparked the notion of reframing how we talk about public lands, not just as resources to be managed but as sanctuaries. Public lands are among the best unifying treasures of our country, offering spaces where anyone can seek connection, reflection, or renewal. As Nick Offerman noted on The Daily Show earlier this year, “They are the one place where a pickup truck and Prius look equally at home,” highlighting that these places belong to everyone and can be appreciated in countless ways.

We grant reverence and protection to traditional houses of worship. Shouldn’t the sanctuaries of nature, including arid deserts, forests shaped by fire and wind, prairies humming with pollinators (what little is left of them), rivers that carve the land, and oceans that hold the horizon, be afforded the same respect? Public lands are already supported by all of us; protecting them is not a special favor, it is honoring the places that sustain life and spirit alike.

And yet, even sustaining life itself is shifting. Scientists warn of collapsing insect populations and ecosystems transformed beyond recognition in just a few decades. Returning to a “historical norm” is neither possible nor the point. Rewilding is not about recreating a past landscape, it is about restoring the tools of nature so that new, dynamic ecosystems can thrive under present conditions.

Regardless of what deity or none you thank for these places, we need to be better at demanding protections. Humans are such a small part of the landscape, yet we exert a weight of destruction far beyond our size.

As for me, I come through another lineage, one rooted in the natural practices of European pagan traditions. With the autumn equinox upon us, a time long celebrated for balance and transition, I feel drawn to the same truth: nature is not a backdrop, not a resource, but a sanctuary. This season reminds us that we, too, are part of these cycles, and that honoring and defending these sacred spaces is a responsibility we all share.

This equinox, let us celebrate balance by renewing our commitment to protect what is wild, unbroken, and sacred. Stay connected to these places, and advocate for their protection wherever you can.

We’d love to hear from you: which public lands make you feel most connected, inspired, or renewed? Share your favorite places in the comments — the forests, deserts, prairies, rivers, or coastlines that serve as your sanctuary.

Honoring the sanctuaries around us,
Jenn