Peace

“Peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” (Marcel Morin)

Me, at the Chalice Well, Glastonbury — June 2011

Finding peace isn’t easy: that is one of the many lessons I learned last year. Take the above photograph. I’m sitting, meditating, at the Chalice Well in Glastonbury. It’s a World Peace Garden, all quiet and serene and with many hidden areas for one to sit quietly and connect, or contemplate, as is their desire. My husband and I had gone to Glastonbury to recharge our batteries again, as we often do, and I ended up at the Well Head itself, needing some quiet time.

You probably can’t guess from that photograph, but inside I’m struggling not to drown in grief and sorrow.

A few weeks earlier, I’d officiated at the burial of one of my closest friends — an event which, now I look back, was filled with many opportunities for both joy and grief. And my dear friend would be the first to tell me not to participate in the latter, but to embrace the former — with sparkles no less! But oh, it’s hard. Even now, it’s hard. And back then, seated in the Chalice Well gardens, it was hard. Nigh-on unbearable, in a lot of ways.

I went there seeking peace, seeking solace, seeking something. I needed some inkling that my grief wasn’t going unnoticed. That, I thought, may bring me some modicum of peace. But no. My sorrow and grief was the same there was it had been everywhere else. I was still exhausted by it, still heartbroken by it. I struggled against it, yearning for peace — hoping that, on the other side of the anguish, there would be something akin to tranquility.

I didn’t realise then, but there’s no struggling against grief. There’s no way around it, or over it, or beneath it. There’s only through it. Surrender, release, let go. Give all of yourself to it, and somewhere in the middle, it transforms — both itself, and yourself. Ah, but here’s the rub: one pass through isn’t enough. Grief isn’t linear. Like much else in life, it circles and spirals. You come back to it again and again, and each time is altogether different, yet the same, than the last. Transformative. Real. Hard. Needed.

Peace doesn’t come easy. But one day, it’ll come.

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