The neverending search for everlasting peace
March 13th 2012
Note: I haven’t written a personal blog post* in over sixty days so I feel out of practice. Hopefully, I won’t disappoint you.
I am always on a quest for everlasting peace. I believe if I can find peace then the rock of pain that sits on my heart will disappear. Perhaps peace would pose as an angel, fly in with her white-feathered wings, and lift the pain away. Or maybe peace would be a bad-ass biker, ride in on his Harley, and drive right through the pain. There might be a way for peace to drop a bomb and blow up the pain until it becomes only miniscule pieces of dust in my blood stream. I don’t know because I don’t know what peace looks like.
However, I am getting ahead of myself. First I must explain the rock. It appeared when my sister Adrienne died on October 9, 2001. Even though the rock weighs me down, I barely notice the dull ache anymore. It’s amazing how much we humans can tolerate. How much pain we can tolerate. Sometimes, I’ll feel a sharp stab in my chest and I imagine it’s the rock shifting the way tectonic plates do. Occasionally, the rock feels lighter as if my heart is pushing it up, demanding that it roll on to another organ. Give me a break says my heart I’ve been carrying this burden for years. [insert sitcom laugh track]
The lighter feelings occur when I confuse moments of happiness with peace, which I seek everywhere. In things, in my pets, in people, even places. Oh I know a new dress won’t bring me peace, but for a few seconds when I look in the mirror, I feel good, sometimes beautiful, which is progress. When I hug my English Mastiff Winston so tight he might break (except a 110-pound woman cannot break a 175-pound dog), I feel joy. He loves me no matter what, and you can’t say that about people. Ahh … people. Boy do I seek peace in them. It’s unfair because if you give me a little happiness even for a few hours, I will mistake it for peace and not realize it. And when this inequitable transaction occurs, I will want it to happen again. And again. I will want your company the way addicts want their drugs. Their high is my peace.
Clothes, animals, friends, family—they will never bring me peace. It’s too big of a task. It’s too much to ask. I envy religious people because their faith seems to give them peace. But prayer does nothing for me so I figure god doesn’t have much to offer me either. If god exists, he’s in the people category, and I’m asking too much of him. Or her.
The only time I find the kind of peace I’m looking for—that everlasting peace that sets my heart free is when I am at the ocean. It sounds corny especially considering I’m not a “beach girl.” I’m an okay swimmer who gets seasick on ferries. I don’t own a pair of flip-flops; hell, I don’t even like flip-flops. Therefore, it’s a mystery why the ocean calms me from the inside out. Maybe it’s the sound of crashing waves beating the shore. Maybe it’s the scent of salt in the air. Maybe it’s the feeling of sand between my toes. Maybe it’s the sight of seagulls and perhaps pelicans if I’m lucky (they’re my favorite bird) flying over the horizon.
Whenever I am at a beach, I inevitably walk along the water, pick up random shells, and lose myself in my thoughts. If I go with others, I often stray away forgetting that I’m with them. Something magical happens when I am listening, smelling, touching, and seeing the ocean. The water washes right through me and takes the rock of pain with it. I don’t hurt when I’m at the ocean, which is why I insisted on spending my birthday last year at Huntington Beach. I wanted to have a good day. A happy day. A peaceful day. And I did.
The neverending search is over. I found my everlasting peace. Now all I need is my house by the sea. In Gold Beach.
AWW — XoXo
*I currently write the president’s blog for my employer TGIC Importers. Read From Alex’s Desk.

















