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Missing Left Sock Beast
sistercoyote
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Coyote Musings
Coyote handsome
his coat the same brown
as the dust from which he rises

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What is the sound of one hand slapping Schroedinger's cat?

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The Quantum Duck goes "quark, quark."

September 2010
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Missing Left Sock Beast [userpic]
Holidailies, Day 3: Peace

It is, or so I understand, the second Sunday of Advent. I am not, currently, any particular flavor of Christianity - I was raised Presbyterian but I don't know if I ever believed. Possibly when I was very small, that time before I can remember clearly.

Regardless, using the four Sundays of Advent as jumping off points for posts makes sense. Last Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, was about Hope; this Sunday is meant to be a meditation on Peace. I have no idea what the Bible reading would be for today; I haven't set foot in any Church or Fellowship for a couple of years, now, which saddens me. I don't regret my decision to leave the local UU Fellowship, but Sunday mornings in the pews was one place that I could get a little bit of peace.

And I think that peace is something we all need, as human beings, regardless of where we find it. I'm not talking about World Peace, although I think we need that, too. I'm talking about the moments of silence when we feel that, for just one moment, we can just be. And I think that can be found in church, or at home in front of the computer, or in the kitchen cooking a meal for one's self or one's family, or hiking in the mountains, or even driving in the car (and yes, even in traffic). But it's hard - it's hard to slow down, it's hard to be in stillness, even for a heartbeat - and I think that's the reason that I, at least, fail to make time for it.

For example, I could spend the hour and a half I would have spent driving to and attending Fellowship to sit quietly in my back yard. I am reluctant to say that I would meditate while I was out there - and I might not even sit, I might spend some time clearing the leaves or mulching - because it's almost impossible for me to keep my mind still for that long. But I could use that time to sit and feel the sun or the breeze or even the rain or the snow on my skin (though in the latter two cases it's much less likely that I would spend an hour and a half outside!), and when my mind wandered to other things gently remind myself that I am spending the time just experiencing: my body, my thoughts, the weather, the feel of the ground beneath me.

Or, I could spend that time in the kitchen, baking bread or making a meal. Again, the focus would not be the end product - it would be me, trying to find peace in the experience of making bread. Of being in that moment, focused on that thing, and treating it with the reverence that is implied and contradicted by "Everything is sacred, and nothing is sacred." To be at peace, at one, with myself, whether or not I am also at one with the theoretical divine.

Or I could walk around the neighborhood, or drive myself up to the mountains and walk around a lake. Or spend the hour listening - just listening! - to favored pieces of music. Or knitting. (I'm reluctant to say or writing, because it is too easy for me to lose myself in what I'm putting down on the page, which - although it is another form of peace - isn't what I'm talking about.) Or doing just about anything, or nothing at all. Going in with the idea of being peaceful, at one, in stillness. If I live up to the idea, I know that I will come out the other side refreshed. If I don't, well, tomorrow is another day. So is next Sunday.

I don't do any of this, or I haven't, anyway. Maybe this post will be enough of an impetus for me to actually start. Maybe not.

But I still think we all, as humans, need these quiet moments.

We need peace.

At:: Home
Feeling:: peacefulpeaceful
Listening to:: Heater running
Comments

It's surprising how hard it is to experience peace, even in the little moments. Thank you for this entry, because it reminded me of the last time I found peace unexpectedly. I was rocking my son to sleep and for a few minutes I managed to allow my mind to still, instead of wittering over one silly thing or another.