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Peace Didn’t Wait
How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I sat at our table in the sitting room with a coffee in my favourite mug, “relaxing guitar music” playing quietly on Alexa, and I felt beautifully at peace. Charlie was outside on the bench in the garden, waiting for his blue hair dye to take hold, sun on his face.
Nothing was happening. Nothing needed to happen. And it was one of the loveliest feelings I’ve had in a long time.
I made a vow there and then: whatever happens in life, I’m keeping hold of that feeling. That sense of peace is my anchor now.
Because life can be tricky, can’t it – for all of us, no matter how fortunate we are. There will always be moments of upset, challenge, and stress; we’re either in one now, waiting for one, or just come out the other side of one. But if we can hold onto that feeling of peace underneath it all, it doesn’t stop the difficult things happening – it just means we have somewhere steady to stand while they do.
For me, this particular moment of peace came at a complicated time. My stepdad’s memorial service was two weeks ago. He would have been so proud of all that was said about him and I miss him. It’s left a quiet, hollow kind of absence in our family that I’m still getting used to. Grief has been sitting alongside me these past weeks, quietly, in the background of everything. And then, in the middle of all that, came this: a coffee, some guitar music, my son and his blue hair in the sunshine.
Peace didn’t wait for the grief to finish. It just arrived, right in the middle of it, and asked to stay. That’s something I’m learning slowly: peace and hard things can exist in the same room together. You don’t need one to be over before you’re allowed the other. Peace can be interrupted too – by the people and situations around us. Unresolved tension, things left unsaid, small frictions that don’t get sorted – they have a way of quietly chipping away at whatever calm you’ve built. I notice it much faster than I used to now.
I notice when something outside me is pulling at my peace, and I ask myself: is this mine to fix, mine to release, or mine to simply let pass through?
This week’s action
Notice when you feel at peace, and notice what you were doing when it arrived. It’s rarely the big, planned moments – usually it’s something small and ordinary. If you can’t remember the last time you felt it, that’s alright. It doesn’t mean it’s out of reach for you.
Sit somewhere quiet, on your own. Close your eyes. Breathe in, and be aware of that breath filling your lungs. That’s often where peace starts – not in a grand gesture, but in one honest breath.
Find out what your personal, unique anchor is. For me, right now, it’s gentle guitar music. For you it might be birdsong, a walk, a craft. Experiment with what is yours.
With love and best wishes always,
Susy