Peace

I've been looking for peace.

For years, I thought peace was an environmental condition, like clear skies and quiet rooms, and I figured that living in a household with a husband and three rambunctious boys meant that peace was way beyond my reach. I found lots of other things: smashed Cheerios, dirty underwear, ABC gum, and other stuff in all kinds of dark, dusty places, but I never found one scrap of peace.

More recently, probably because I keep getting older, I've decided to look for inner peace. But it, too, is a slippery and elusive sort of beast. It disguises itself as dreams and ambitions and some form of spirituality, and I find myself running off in one direction or another, thinking I'm chasing peace...but then discovering the path I'm on has steered me off course from what I'm most in search of.

But then peace drops little hints along the way like ET and his Reese's pieces. Like reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love which was interminably long but started niggling at me anyway about smiling meditation. Or a nugget from a woman in one of my workshops who shared a quote from Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor's book Traveling with Pomegranites, about how the soul represents "the deepest impulse [of the psyche] to create wholeness." And a comment from a woman I interviewed today, in which she distinguished between peace of mind and peace of heart.

I know all sorts of people who are looking for wholeness and peace through diet and exercise and religion and acupuncture. And some who look for peace in their big paychecks and houses. Some find peace when their kids make the honor roll or win college scholarships. Some define peace as resting at the end of the day with a clean house and an extra gallon of milk in the fridge. Some think peace means having a loving family and friends, or giving back to the community. Some would say God's love is peace.

All that's good stuff, don't get me wrong. But something's still missing. None of those qualify as peace, at least for me. Peace, I've come to think, is that feeling on the inside, that feeling of absolute wholeness in the mind, and yes also in the heart, but maybe most of all in the gut, where one no longer needs to understand anything but at the same time understands everything, at least everything that matters, which as it turns out is quite simple. So simple that kids get it, and dogs get it, but is usually too hard for us grownups to get. What matters, and therefore what opens us up to peace, is pure, unselfishish love.

That is peace. Love. Love is peace.

The First Time

One of my sons told me it's been scientifically proven: the first time you experience something, it's the most intense. I started to wonder if that's really true so I thought back to some random experiences in my life.

1. The first time I got lost? Yes, intense. It was downtown Chicago, I was age four. I can't think of a worse time I've been lost.

2. The first time I picked an apple? Yes, because I bit into it and found a tooth and fresh blood. It also happened to be the first time I lost a baby tooth.

3. The first time I went skiing? No. It was intense (especially that cackling laughter of some moron on the sidelines watching us all fall down on the bunny slope) but it wasn't the most intense. There have been plenty more memorable times on the slopes, like the time I got stuck in a racing rut (how embarassing) or the time I was paralyzed in fear on an icy, steep slope (all alone) or the times my son made me go places I didn't want to go...and then patiently waited to be sure I made it down safely.

4. The first time I made out: yes, pretty intense.

5. The first time I had sex: not going there, not in this domain.

6. The first time I was in the company of wild bears: yes, which explains all the flailing and running and screaming, which no doubt perplexed the creatures beyond measure.

7. The first time I made a pie: yeah, I guess so. The blackberries were freshly picked from the back 40; you can't beat that.

8. The first time I got married: yes, definitely. But the second one was pretty nice, too. :)

9. The first time I held my kids in my arms? Well, that's a tough one. They were all incredibly emotional and intense but yes, I suppose the first time was probably the most intense time of all, one of the most intense (and precious) moments of my entire life.

10. The first time a loved one died: yes, losing Dad was horrible. But at this point I have no way of knowing if losing him will always be the most intense experience of grief and loss.

11. The first time I loved someone deeply? I honestly don't know about this one either. Love is so different in each situation, each relationship. We love in so many ways. If it's love, it's by definition intense. I don't think it can be ranked and rated and measured against another love. So I don't think this theory applies to love.

12. The first time I watched a sunset? I think sunsets are a lot like love.

The bottom line: I disagree with the theory, and I'd like to know who these scientists think they are.

Sealant for the Soul

We seal our driveways and we seal our teeth. We wax our cars, we polish our furniture, we spray our leather boots. We slather sunscreen on our skin. We spend countless hours and dollars protecting our investments and even protecting parts of our selves. But what we seem to have not figured out is how to protect our souls.

Some would argue that faith protects the soul. Others might say a healthy body helps. Love seems like it would be good for the soul (but only when things are working out.) Work distracts the soul, and substances like drugs and alcohol mask the soul's pain. But the soul is the deepest part of us, the center of our very being. To protect the soul would be like protecting the center of the earth. Impossible, right?

In a recent workshop, women who barely knew me or each other revealed their inner pockmarks and potholes. All were in the midstage of their lives; all had lived and loved and lost. On the outside, they'd seemed successful, content, pulled together: they sported that image we're all expected to maintain, an image we all spend years cultivating until its aged to perfection. But the image, much like driveway sealant, is limited in its strength. It doesn't last forever and it's not completely impenetrable. Cracks begin to surface, and once that happens, the driveway's integrity becomes compromised. It's vulnerable to more cracks and bumps and over time can even break down. Same with the cavities that form in the tooth when the sealant fails. They eventually deteriorate.

And when the soul deteriorates...well, that's bad.

It may seem we need to invent a soul sealant, but I believe it already exists. I think that when we all come together and bind ourselves like bouncing little molecules in a solvent, we can protect one another's souls from deterioration. Someone said, "when people come together, good things happen." Of course, this means setting aside egos and agendas and judgments and competitive aspirations, sometimes only for the good of one single solitary person, one lonely life. It sometimes means giving in to things that don't always make sense and letting go of ideas that we know are better than others and even sacrificing time when there's no guarantee of payback. But in my mind it's the ultimate investment. What could be more valuable than a soul?

The driveway and the car and the furniture and the boots are nice. And yes, the skin and the teeth are pretty important, too. But I would give up all the sealants in the world for these things if it meant I could bring enough people together to protect just one soul.

Top 15 Reasons for Lost Sleep

15. Too much screen
14. Too much food
13. Too much wine
12. Too much fun
11. Too much sun
10. Not enough sun
9. Kids
8. Broken things
7. Broken relationships
6. Being broke
5. Menopause
4. Men
3. Adolescence
2. Adolescents
1. Love