A Survivor’s Guide To Calm
“There is no way to peace ~ peace is the way.” Thich Nhat Hanh
People often ask me, “How do you stay so calm?” My first thought is that the person asking the question is obviously not a mind-reader. If they could read my mind, they would know that this “duck on a pond” is often paddling steadily beneath the surface. I have not reached a plateau where I no longer have to reach for the still, small voice within. But I do reach. Over and over, throughout the day, I continue to adjust the dial so I can stay on the path. Some days I’m just barely keeping it between the ditches, but that is ok.
Peace is a choice I make. It is always available to me whenever I’m willing to reach for it. I don’t work for it or wrestle it to the ground; I just have to remember it is an option. A Course In Miracles teaches, “I could see peace instead of this.” Sometimes my rebellious mind is reluctant to stop resisting, to drop the justification or victim story, and to let myself be still. I’m like a butterfly tied to a rock. A survival mindset is grounded in fear: trying to make sure, struggling to manage outcomes, projecting to anticipate all the angles, attempting to control the players on the stage - all this in order to feel safe and secure. I’ve done this. A lot. The sense of safety and security it offers is fleeting and false. To have true safety and security, I need to tap into an inner resource that is already steady, resilient, and loving. All that is required of me is to be present and kind to myself. This presence and compassion is already there and always safe, but my mind can be too cluttered with chatter to experience it. Like a teen’s bedroom littered with laundry, there is a solid floor under there somewhere.
To find that steady place within, I let my shoulders drop away from my ears and let the shoulder blades slide down my back a little. Take a breath and feel where it is going. And another. I imagine my heart glowing with light and stretch it open by looking for the good - in others, in the world, in myself. Sometimes I need to squint. That is ok, too.
I can rest here. I can proceed from here. I let my being guide my doing. I am free. Let it be enough. Let it be. I could live here.
My spiritual teacher, Rev. Ann Crutchfield, taught me in the 1990s about equanimity. I shall be forever grateful for her many lessons. Equanimity helps us find the “loose garment” and inner stillness that is undisturbed by the coming and going of thoughts and situations. We can observe it, be a witness, without having to pull it toward us or push it away. Let it be. She reminded me of Psalm 91 that tells me if I dwell in the place of the Most High, I will abide in peace. Dwell and abide. Not just visit. I’m a work in progress, but I believe from my own experience that this option is real and useful.
In “Buddha’s Brain: The practical neuroscience of happiness, love and wisdom,” Drs. Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius teach that equanimity is like the mudroom of a house, where we can leave our reactions without responding to them. With this neutrality, “the interior of your mind remains clear and peaceful” (Buddha’s Brain, p. 109).
So today, give yourself a break. Your inner, invisible self has all you need for this day. Enjoy your being and let it guide your doing. I’ll close here with inspiring words from Virginia Woolf:
“No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be other but oneself.”
Peace be with you,
Tricia
