Every once in a while, a
moment catches me unguarded. Whether it's a crisp morning breeze, the
sounds of spontaneous laughter, the subtle dawn waves on the beach,
or sudden silence, these moments capture my attention. It's as if
time pauses for a reflection, and I can't look away.
Unfortunately, we try so
hard, so often, to leap past these short whispers of peace. I know I
do. I know I shouldn't. So, I turn on music, television, my phone,
another argument, the internet, a book, or whatever other distraction
I can locate to avoid these unrealized gifts. Let's admit it, it's
actually easier to embrace chaos, conflict and even war than to find
an armistice.
It's difficult to stop
moving, be still, reflect, and be alone with our thoughts, regrets,
and even hopes. Fear exists in that space. But fear is not something
from which we need to turn. No, it is something we need to feel, and to
walk through, in order to understand calm.
We
live in a loud world. Still, every so often, in the middle of the
noise, peace enters. It always has. It's very nature is a
contradiction to the world around us. It jars us, heals us, scares
us.
Peace
seldom arrives triumphantly. In rebellion, peace more often arrives
in the quiet. At times, it even appears in silence. Silence is
amazing. It is here, when I listen, I find something true.
Yes,
this morning I woke to peace. I chose not to war with it this time.
Instead, I loosened my fists, lifted my arms in surrender, felt it's
presence, listened to it's calm, and looked directly where it lead my
eyes. I now have its memory. I will not soon forget.
