Journal Entry: Friday, Oct 14, 2022, 6:00 a.m.
I’m at peace this morning. I love this feeling. Except it’s not a feeling, really. It’s a state. A state of being.
Those aren’t even the right words to describe what it is to be “at peace.”
The mental and physical sensations produced by being “at peace” are like an ocean whose surface is undisturbed. An ocean that just the night before was stirred up and tossed into magnificent, angry waves that came out of nowhere. A storm churning up from the depths and throwing the surface of the waters into chaos and turmoil. To be caught in that sudden storm while at sea would mean certain death unless all hands were on deck — and even then, the outcome would be uncertain.
And then, peace.
That same angry ocean the next morning, surface as smooth and still as a pane of glass. So quiet and still, it seems as though I could walk across it.
Seagulls flying overhead, breezing along on gentle currents of air invisible to the naked eye, wind so gentle the water below doesn’t notice.
Skies crystal blue, sun radiant warm.
A picture of Peace. Total and complete Peace.
I wish peace lasted forever. But I suppose if it did, I wouldn’t recognize it when it came.
This morning’s Daily Calm practice was Day 5 of “Calming Anxiety.”
“The Nature of Change.”
Tamara — the narrator — spoke gently about how everything has a beginning and an end. All is impermanent. Sensations come and go. Anxiety and heartbreak pass.
Thinking about the impermanent nature of everything made me anxious. I don’t want to be reminded of that, and I certainly don’t want to dwell or meditate on it.
But she spoke of acceptance.
Of accepting impermanence.
And how accepting impermanence helps us to move through stormy seas.
I understand that.
The storm will eventually pass.
Turmoil and chaos will cease.
And peace will return.