December 28, 2021
If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present. ~ Lao Tzu
The above quote from today’s calendar struck home for me. Depression indicates living in the past; anxiety is all about the future. Feeling peaceful means I’m living in the present.
Not surprisingly, since I believe in synchronicity, a Golden Age of Gaia forum member posted this morning about peace.
And my body had a message for me today, too. I was more uncomfortable than usual, fearful about what might be going on. Then I remembered that I can ask my body what message it wishes to deliver. I was rewarded with this:
You are trying too hard…to fit in with people…who are not your tribe. When I asked what (if anything) to do, body said, Be at peace. In addition, I got the impression that all will change, and all is changing, and peace is my only response, and the only response needed.
The only response is peace, to anything and anyone, everywhere.
That feels like an ecstatically fragrant rose of the most brilliant red hue bursting wildly into bloom smack in the center of my chest.
Peace can be easy while I’m alone, but requires a bit more conscious effort when with others.
I engaged in a little self-talk as I headed for the store: Leave anything controversial or bumpy to marinate in the car while mingling with what I consider the largely unaware / unawake populace of Santa Barbara.
Without analyzing it, I instinctively chose the most direct path to peace while around people who likely are “not my tribe.“ Just don’t talk.
I’m not aware of any lightworkers’ game plan that says I must launch into mask and vaccine diatribes at every opportunity. Lord knows I’ve been doing that practically every time I’ve gone out for almost two years.
Suddenly, today, it felt completely the opposite of helpful or necessary to even imagine such fraught conversations. Why should I attempt to thrust my opinions on anyone else?
Silence truly is golden.
Silence, in fact, was effortless. I didn’t have to catch myself before making tart comments to fellow customers about still having to wear masks. I asked one necessary question of one crewmember—what happened to the cereal bars? (Answer: we’re having a supply shortage)—and completed shopping with nary another word.
When I got to checkout, one of the guys who has been there for many years was behind the register. I smiled. He smiled. We exchanged pleasantries.
Another longtime employee came along with a bottle of disinfectant and a cloth and wiped down the credit card machine. I asked him how it’s going, how are his wife and children. All are good, he said.
Mundane conversations, ordinary and banal. But something was missing.
Anxiety. Discomfort. The overriding sensation of things not being right. Having to interact while wearing masks. Being on edge because some faintly hysterical person might start scolding and militantly tell me, with gestures, to pull the mask up over my nose.
That’s what was missing.
Can peace be so easy? Can it be more about refraining than engaging?
For nearly two years, I have felt subtly but continuously under some degree of attack. It’s often said that we are at war. An information war, a war of words, digital soldiers engaging in lightning-fast battles through the ethers of the Internet.
I think I’m ready to step out of my metaphorical combat boots, and stroll barefoot through a garden of peace.
This may be a mood. Or perhaps it’s the trough of a wave that we are doubtless riding, because something is in motion. I implicitly trust the last part of the message from my body. All will change, and all is changing.
It feels like it’s changing toward peace, at least at this moment, at least for me.
How delightful. The blooming garden is much more appealing than an old, smelly pair of combat boots.