Finding peace is a conundrum in itself for peace is not to be found, rather it is to be simply created space for.
As if you were to clean a room full of furniture and leave an empty space on the floor.
As if you could sweep the sky of clouds and find yourself with a large blue opening.
As if you could just sit in the middle of a hurricane, still, as it spirals around you.
Peace is like the drop of a rock into a clear pond that settles on the bottom… like that drop within the body that exhales and says now I’m here.
That steadiness that comes amongst the chaos, where I am not perturbed by the movement around me, I am not frozen, I am mobile, but rather like a tree with deep roots.
In those spaces I feel god. I feel the presence of the all. The deep outpouring of love from an undefined source that embodies everything including myself.
It is a wave of oxytocin. Bonding and connection.
A wave of a warm waft of tropical air on your skin.
The red tint behind your eyelids as the sun comes out from a cloud.
It is that melting of the body on a warm day.
It is floating on a raft in the middle of the wide ocean, knowing land is there whenever you may choose.
It is the wide stretch of ocean I see out my office window.
It is the snuggle up to the aroma of my partners skin under white blankets in the evening.
It is watching my little son sleep, his face becomes soft and I imagine he is playing with the angels.
It is the moment before waking, when the warmth of the covers envelop you, dawn trickles in and the day has not lodged into the mind space yet.
It is the moment I decide none of this all matters and I just sit and watch the waves.
It is the moment when there is so much happening that I finally let go and say “I surrender.”
It is the moment when at 46 I don’t hate my childhood, my parents or all those that have harmed me anymore.
It is the knowing that even this too will pass.
It is when I close my eyes and watch my brain spin out for about 30 minutes and finally it stops.
It is sitting in the rain after a break up and letting the whole sky cry for you, letting it drench you with no resistance.
It is grieving my grandfather, sitting for hours in the bathtub and just letting the tears flow down my body as I listen to the same chant on repeat “Alleluia” by Robert Gass.
It is finally peeling through the onion skins of suffering, trauma and belief systems and realizing… life is beautiful.
It is the recognition that there’s nothing currently wrong in my life.
It is the deep acceptance of all that is as is… free of judgment.
It is the deep embrace of life in all it’s forms, shitty or not.
It is the deep surrender that fills me with a warm balm in every cell of my body.
It is
Is.