Selectively Juggling

Once again, my charming ‘quirkiness’ lends itself to seeing and processing today’s writing prompt somewhat differently from the masses. I’ve always been this way, and I expect to continue to do so. Insert smile.

Peace, what is peace? Is it related to external ideas of ‘freedom from personal or systemic violence?’ or is it about peace simply equating to concepts of social justice and equality? When I think of ‘what brings me peace?’ it conjures up a dichotomy. I have implicit, visceral feelings of peace, which generally result from meditative activities in nature. Or, conversely, by swimming freely in deep clear water, where I simply dive, frolic like a mermaid and just delight in the feeling of the bubbles against my skin. My body feels the peace; it manifests in incredible joy, complete presentism, and an absence of thought unrelated to the experience felt. If I swim, I focus on the bubbles and imagine being the bubble, carried to the surface in the sense of lightness. If I am bushwalking with my beloved camera, I see the composition unfolding before my eyes, and my thoughts go to that. I am entirely in flow; I feel absolute peace. I’m activated and switched on, aware of the sensations in my body, but there is no need to be hyper-alert to my surroundings. I embody a sense of safety. I know safety. This feels like pure peace and freedom, where I am blissfully engaged in my playfulness, nature and water. It is implicit, simply felt in my body, and the sensations, joys and peace transcend mere language. Words often prove insubstantial, like an incredible oil-based artist forced to convey their art in black and white.

The other part of the dichotomy relates to my cerebral self, the more explicit sense of peace. Peace of mind, so to speak. Over the last few days, I received some news from someone close to me. The news threw me at first. It was only a split second. However, it threw me hard against my learned prejudices and internal biases, propelling me into a momentary sense of ‘cognitive dissonance’. I knew how I should have reacted and responded. I knew the words I should have said. I knew I should have looked gently and lovingly and whispered words of encouragement. However, I didn’t do these things in that genuine, unguarded moment.

Granted, I was busy driving and worried about getting my daughter (who has a rare genetic disability) to an ultrasound appointment for a follow-up check on a cyst. However, with the additional stress and competing needs, I failed to be my best self, and as a result, I felt complete ‘cognitive dissonance’, the polar opposite of peace. It only lasted 2-3 minutes until I faced my fears, looked my bias in the face, and behaved as I should have, needed to and wanted to. I reached out and said what I needed to say, what should have been said 5 minutes earlier. Yes, I almost gave myself emotional whiplash in the process. For me, ‘peace of mind is following my moral compass, acting from a space of genuine love and compassion. It is about doing the right thing, although it may be confronting.

Peace of mind equates to a sense of consciousness, of living authentically and doing no harm to self or others. I felt peace instantly and an overwhelming sense of acceptance and love. I feel peace when I am living a good, loyal, ethical life where I practice what i preach. There is none of that prickly and uncomfortable dissonance. It is fantastic when i can feel both peace of mind and implicit peace. Then I feel as unencumbered as an untethered balloon, free to explore life.

I will leave you with a story of implicit feelings of peace and unease if I can. I was in my first year of university, sitting outside a lecture hall, where I was about to undertake my first 1st-year exam. I had spent days and hours before preparing, even pulling a few all-nighters (yeah, I know, so stupid). Anyway, as I was sitting outside waiting for the doors to spring open, i was struck by a vivid visual and Olfactory memory or flashback of being a 12 to 18-month-old baby in a cot. I saw the cot, which was in the hallway, as my bedroom was being painted. I saw the bare lightbulb hanging and an old wooden ladder in the middle of the room. I felt that smell and distress. Waiting for my first exam elicited a strong memory response of feeling stress.

That strong chemical smell as a baby has stayed with me, and i experienced it as an implicit memory. So, ever since that moment, very occasionally, maybe 2-3 times per year, i will smell that ‘chemical memory’, and i take it as my body’s way of saying, “You need to relax; you are stressed, but your conscious mind doesn’t really know it” So the moment I have that Olfactory memory, I relax my body, slow my breathing and focus on calm. In those moments, I start to feel peace again. I told you I was quirky. I even bought those yin and yang mediational balls and have one in my car console, so every time I turn a corner, I hear a gentle ‘clang’ which reminds me to breathe and ground. (not such a bad idea when stuck in Sydney traffic)