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Crestone, a haven for All Faiths
Continued

On Saturday afternoon, driving through the wooded hills, I stopped at the Haidakhandi Universal Ashram. A small sign pointed to an Indian-style temple devoted to the Divine Mother. Inside the sanctuary were pillows and a carpet spread in front of the beautifully adorned Mother statue. There were photos of the revered yogi Babaji in his most recent incarnation in India.
And there was the sound of sweeping. It was rhythmic and relentless, and seemed to be coming toward me. After a few minutes, a young man with a shock of blond hair appeared, broom in hand. He stopped sweeping for a moment to offer words of welcome. “I come from Arizona,” he said. “I graduated with a degree in chemistry, but I know I cannot spend the rest of my life working for a salary in the corporate world. I heard about Babaji from studying yoga, and I figured I’ll either become a serious yogi or else a monk.” Then he began to sweep again. The head nun of the temple, an American woman, came inside. She walked past us and began to arrange the beautiful flowers that were offered every day to the Mother. The young man invited us back fire a ceremony the next morning. And he continued to sweep in peace.

Sanctuary House
(As of 2005, Sanctuary House is no more.
The space is now blessed by Humanity in Unity
humanityinunity.org )

The following has been left on for archival purposes:

On Sunday, I drove to Sanctuary House, described by the local couple who built it as “a multi-religious retreat in the round.” It was difficult to find and involved following a few barely discernible arrows along the side of the road. The structure, made of yellow-tinged adobe, was harmonious. A small sign on the gate welcomed visitors and asked only that they remove their shoes. Inside the courtyard was a breathtaking reconstruction of the labyrinth of Chartres. I began to walk it, and my empty mind soon filled with a wondrous task: An alphabet appeared before my inner eyes, and each letter was a spiritual instruction.

Around the courtyard were four rooms. The first was a Jewish and Christian sanctuary. Inside were crucifixes, portraits of Mary, candles, a series of Tibetan bowls. I picked up a wooden instrument and ran it inside the bowls. The sounds were a spiritual call to arms and my soul woke up in that room.

The third room was Hindi and Vedic, and was permeated by the sweet scent of incense. All around were images of gods and goddesses and portraits of beloved yogis.

The fourth sanctuary was devoted to Muslim and Sufi worship. The floor was lined with oriental carpets, and there were translations of the Koran, Sufi poems, and drums in key locations. I picked up a drum and began to recite a haunting chant I had learned at a Zikr, or Sufi ceremony of remembering and uniting with God.

When I left the Sanctuary House I felt tremendous inner peace and balance. The locals are right. Those mountains provide the most powerful natural chapel I have experienced in America, and loving locals provide the space for insight and regeneration. Whatever your spiritual path, the Sangre de Cristos speak a language your soul can understand and respond to.

**Judith Fein is a correspondent for public radio’s Savvy Traveler.