Update: The topic I touched on below is one I could probably add to every day, as thoughts occur, words appear, conversations happen. While I won't keep continually updating this post (I swear), I did want to add this paragraph that popped out at me soon after I originally posted:
When we are training in the art of peace, we are not given any promises that because of our noble intentions everything will be okay. In fact, there are no promises of fruition at all. Instead, we are encouraged to simply look deeply at joy and sorrow, at laughing and crying, at hoping and fearing, at all that lives and dies. We learn that what truly heals is gratitude and tenderness. -Pema Chodron
oke up this morning feeling blessed: both men are in the house, the sun is shining and in spite of a rather restless night of spotty sleep, I have energy.
Envisioning the day before me, filled with dirt and plants (er, weeds) before it gets too hot, and then errands and indoor chores once it tops 100 degrees out there, I puttered in the kitchen, making breakfast for husband and I. In between my coffee and his steel cut oats, I was standing at the refrigerator and it struck me:
The reason it feels so good to be at peace is because it takes (a lot of) work, time, experience and pain to get there. (If "there" is even somewhere to get...)
None of it comes easily or overnight, much as I might have wanted to accelerate the process in my 20s. And even as I write this, it is entirely possible some "hammer" will come down tomorrow to shake my peace. Not that I believe the world works that way, exactly: I boast about peace and the Universe says, "Oh really?"
Ah well, "Bring it," I say. There are still lessons to be learned, and--in my case, more often than not--relearned, and life to be lived, however messy and complicated. But the peace; the peace stays. Of that I'm sure. I'm sure because my peace doesn't have a lot to do with me; it come from knowing I was created, for a purpose and by a Creator who has a much larger view on my work, time, experience and pain than I possibly could.
Two blog posts touching on my current thoughts happened into my inbox this weekend. I have to share, they're just that good:
Loneliness by Narelle at Solid Gold Creativity.
Looking for Good Fish by Jena Strong.
Just in case, when you read the blog post title above, you were hoping for an actual a-ha song, I have that for you too:
That song is on the soundtrack of my life, in case you're wondering. (Which is a future, very exciting blog post, that will probably take the rest of my life to write!)
Hope your day is filled with blessings and sunshine.