Friday, October 31, 2008

Peace of mind

Still no computer working at home. The technician didn't turn up again, last night. I waited. At first I was annoyed. Anxious. Then reality settled in like a warm woolen blanket. How I waited wasn't going to change whether he turned up or not. How I waited would affect my sense of wonder, of being at peace, of being grateful for the time to spend alone.

It was good for me to wait -- I unpacked a couple of boxes. Sorted through stuff that needed ditching and took the puppies for a walk. Quiet waiting in a quiet house. Luxurious. Replenishing. Comforting.

Life is filled with moments waiting to connect to the next. We fill them with mundane items. Tasks that need doing. Chores that need completing. And in the process, we find ourselves sorting through stuff we don't need, don't want, don't have a place for.

This move has been like that. In the kitchen, I have a couple of empty shelves. Astounding. I want to keep them empty. Keep them from filling up. Keep life's stuff from cluttering up the clean, clear lines of empty space.

But life keeps coming. Keeps filling up with things and doings, people and objects.

That's life.

Today, I am at peace with where I'm at. It may not be a long peaceful stretch. It may be a brief encounter of the peace-making kind. But for now, I am carrying my peace of mind like a treasured gift.

It's a short one today -- am off and running to get busy doing what needs to be done. And no matter what I'm doing, I will cherish my peace of mind as I carry it lovingly in my thoughts throughout the goings on of my day unfolding, connecting this moment to the next with threads of peacefulness.

The question is: Are you carrying peace of mind? Are you carrying on with peacefulness as the thread connecting the moments of your day?


Anonymous said...


this is a good piece - not about computer geeks not showing up, but about anxiety

I think you should write a BIGGER piece on anxiety; like sourdough, this is your starter . . let it rise from that . .


p.s. I've booked in for that breakfast on the 13th . .care to meet up there and then?

Henry said...

I can watch a beautiful sun set. Laugh at my dacshunds playing in the yard. Smile when I see my grandson's. But I don't feel joy - perhaps that will come in time - I didnt feel joy the 3 years he was here - but I do remember feeling joy and contentment before him. He is fading ever so slowly - guess I just need time.

M.L. Gallagher said...

Hey Mark -- thanks. I think that's a great idea re the anxiety piece. And yes -- I'll meet up on the 13th.

Henry, it does take time. In that beautiful sunset, joy is settling into your heart. Watching your daschunds, joy is abounding as they play. Let those moments carry you over the rough spots when thoughts of him invade. The feelings from before him are the ones you deserve. You will claim them again. Have faith. This too shall pass.