Peace does not always look like it says on the packet.
Being yourself, and recognizing the Aha that is me, can include all sorts of slightly frenetic sensations, but none the less, familiar enough to call it home.
My peace is based in India so it comes with a constant backdrop of noise. In the South, it would be the constant competing temples, each out-booming each other to call us to devotion; here in the extremely arid North in the peak of Summer, I seldom know life without the whirring of a fan, and the gurgling of a beloved Symphony Cooler.
We live near a very traffic laden, densely business and industry heavy part of town, and are extremely fortunate to have found a top floor apartment in a dead end street overlooking a small nature reserve adjoining the Chief Minister’s residence. So, we have the pleasure of several flourishing gigantic Neem trees, parakeets, peacocks and shrieking pea-hens to insulate us from the relentless honking traffic, and consistent, constant sound of Urban life.
My more personal, and less geographic background static, is of course, my mind, that makes far too much hue and cry over far too many issues that could reasonably be classified as being chilled. My heart flutters slightly from a strong freshly pressed Arabica Coffee, and there is a restlessness coursing through my being, that belies my outward appearance of sitting relaxed at my desk.
Mind wanders to and fro, and covers vast tracks of already classified information – global wars, politics, religion, anatomy, poetry, family memories, both the delightful and less than delight filled ones that still rip me apart to teach me something of lasting merit; mind recalls beautiful sights, and captivating art of friends, acclaimed or not from around the world, and throughout the ages. The perpetual list of things to plan, in the near future, where to stay on the outward trip to Nepal, what to pack, and the reminder to chase the Landlords for a signed copy of our rental agreement.
It is a very noisy peace. But, it is the only one I really know.
Of course, I appreciate the many moments where thoughts vanish, where personal (and petty) identity collapses, where the great union of I, you, us, we disappears and all that remains, is some body and some breath. Letting go of this fierce ownership of the personal quest, search, and longing leaves us all as refreshed as enchanted forest pixies, and I am the last person to devalue, or undervalue the ecstasy of silence once noticed.
The point is, once it is noticed, we are back. In full swing. Back being here and back to the familiar slightly twitchy, slightly jaggedly neurotic business of being.