Life, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Peace

One of the best things about having strong relationships with friends is the element of revelation by conversation. When you have a friend with whom you can dive deeply into meaningful conversation, often that conversation reveals things to you. Sometimes verbally, sometimes unspoken. Sometimes about your friend, sometimes about you, and sometimes about the world at large. But no matter what, in those deep conversations, there is always a revelation. (More on that beautiful aspect of friendship another time) What follows is the result of my most recent "A-ha" moment amid a deep conversation with a friend:

Happiness is fleeting.

Peace offers longevity.

Forget the pursuit of happiness.

Pursue peace instead.

Read that again.

One more time.

Now really consider it... Go on, take a minute. I'll wait.

Okay, let's break it down.

When was the last time you felt happy? When was the last time you felt peaceful? Often, (though admittedly not always), the two are very different. It seems to me that happiness is typically prompted, whereas peace is cultivated. In other words, something that is prompted comes from outside forces, and something that is cultivated comes from within. Happiness is a feeling, while peace is an experience.

Feelings are wonderful things! Even the not-so-fun ones serve a purpose. Feelings remind us we're alive. The lows help us to appreciate the highs. The highs make us, well, high. Feelings can be a call to action; they can motivate us. If you're feeling particularly bad about something, eventually you'll want to change it. If you're feeling particularly good about something, perhaps you'll have the confidence required to do more, and be better. Good feelings can give us energy to build endurance. However, feelings are fleeting. Motivation fades. Energy runs out.

Meanwhile, peace is more than a feeling. It's an experience. If compared to water, happiness is found (and subsequently lost) amid raging rapids that toss you about - sometimes with exhilaration & other times with fear. Meanwhile, peace is a steady, flowing river. Now, you may think to yourself, "Life is an adventure, and I'd rather go white water rafting than canoeing." If you're looking for a Saturday afternoon activity, sure, go for the adventure. But if you're considering your lifestyle in the grand scheme of things, what will sustain you for the long haul?

Make no mistake: a peaceful life doesn't have to be boring, dull or stagnant. You can lead a very exciting, adventurous life & still maintain "Peace" as your goal. It's not that you shouldn't strive for happiness. It's simply that you shouldn't expect happiness to fulfill you - for the fulfillment that comes from happiness is temporary at best. Go on, strive to feel happy, and rejoice in the moments when you do! But at the core of your foundation, find your fulfillment in peace. You'll be far less disappointed when the happiness wears off if you've still got peace to hang onto.

To clarify, peace doesn't mean everything is going right. Rather, it's a quiet calm, a constant confidence that even if everything is going wrong at the moment, you are right where you belong & making the most of what you have. It's knowing that everything won't go wrong forever. It's understanding that the decisions you make feel right - deep down in your gut. It's being true to your authentic self. It's experiencing harmony between your mind, body, heart, and soul. You can experience peace amid turmoil, but rarely can you feel happy amid turmoil. Again, this is because peace is generated from within and is dependent upon YOU, while happiness relies on external circumstances.

Imagine if everyone strived for PEACE as they do for happiness. That's the kind of world I want to live in. What if, instead of seeking a job that you thought could make you happy, you chose a career path that brings you peace? The kind of work that you can believe in, that makes you feel like you have something to contribute. How much more productive & passionate would you be if you felt like your career brought harmony to your life? What if, instead of making decisions based on emotions, we waited until we felt peaceful about the choice we're making? What if, instead of looking for a husband or wife with whom you can live happily ever after, you looked for the kind of partner who brings peace to your life? The person who quiets your frantic mind, warms your heart, and puts your soul at ease. If everyone took the time to seek out that kind of partner maybe no one would be married before they're 30, but maybe half of us wouldn't be divorced by 35 either. I realize that's a generalized statement, and ultimately it's not about marriage & divorce statistics. It's about getting our fulfillment from the right places. It's about getting the most out of life by putting ourselves in a position where we're able to give the most. It's about listening to our intuition. It's about inner harmony. It's about peace. It's all about peace.

So in summary, happiness and peace are not mutually exclusive, but they do not possess the same staying power. For a moment, happiness & peace can co-exist. However, when happiness dissolves (as it always does), it's peace that will sustain you. Obtaining happiness may appear to be the most obvious & exciting goal in life, but I dare you to look beyond the obvious. Create a goal that, once achieved, can sustain you for more than a fleeting moment. Prepare your heart for the long haul. Pursue peace.

He Called Me Goldilocks

Today, we laid to rest a man who was infinitely special to me. The service was small and brief (per his request), so there was no opportunity for stories or speeches as I'm typically used to at other funerals. However, I've come to realize that the speeches I've delivered on such occasions are integral parts of my therapeutic grieving process. Therefore, I decided to write out what I would have shared verbally - if only for my own emotional catharsis. The result is as follows:

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Ralph Kline – my neighbor, my buddy, my family – he called me Goldilocks.

When I think of Ralph, there are so memories that come rushing back to me – including some of my earliest. He was my NEIGHBOR for as long as I can remember. I never knew life without Ellie & Ralph next door. With yards that blended into one another, he was always just a few paces (or a few childhood sprints) away. I can’t count the number of times I went next door for chocolate milk, or a bowl full of mini marshmallows, or sometimes just to sit on the porch with him & Ellie. He couldn’t wait to see me learn how to ride my bike on 2 wheels. And many years later, he was just as eager to go driving with me on 4 wheels. Shortly after I got my driver’s license, I took him for a drive. He’d been looking forward to that day for so long. We drove and we drove, and at one point after an adventure over the mountain, he asked me if I knew where I was. I hadn’t a clue. And though I’m sure he did, he never told me how to get back. He just let me figure it out. Lo and behold, we made it back.

He was my BUDDY. I remember him making me giggle when he would take out his false teeth. I used to give him a hard time about getting a haircut when he had so little to cut. In the mornings when my brother was in school but I wasn’t quite old enough yet, Ralph would come sit with me while Mom took Kent to the bus stop. We’d spend that time bonding over an episode of Inspector Gadget. If Mom really had a talker on with the other bus stop moms, we could even squeeze in an episode of The Jetsons, too!

As you know, I have a company called Poetic Soul Gifts. As it turns out, Ralph taught me some of the first poetry I’d ever heard & memorized. (much to Ellie’s chagrin)

Old King Cole was a merry old soul

And a merry old soul was he.

He climbed up the steeple

And he peed on the people

And he almost peed on me.

I can still hear him laugh when I would recite that for him over and over.

He may not have been blood, but he was always FAMILY to me. I considered him to be another grandfather, and he treated me as though I was his granddaughter – protective, loving, proud. He & Ellie would come over every Christmas day to see what new goodies Santa Claus had brought to Kent & me. He was at all of our birthday parties. He & Ellie used to take me for drives over to Middlecreek to see the geese. He’d always check in with me to find out my latest report card results. He’d continually ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up – and I imagine my answer varied a little bit each time. He used to get such a kick out of me telling him my favorite color was “geen.” And once I was an adult, he would ask, “Is your favorite color still ‘geen?’” I remember him sitting in the back seat with me on a ride to the ER when I’d hurt my arm as a little girl.

Another time that I wound up injured (did I mention I was clutzy child?) stands out to me as the quintessential example of just how high Ralph & Ellie have always ranked in my book. I was 4 years old, and I’d just taken a tumble, mouth-first, into an oak wood desk chair. I stood, leaning over the tub in the bathroom, blood gushing from my gums. Panicked & pitiful, I cried out to my mom, “Call the ambulance! Call Ellie & Ralph!” If you asked me, the 2 were one and the same in case of emergency.

As a child with bright blond hair, it was perfectly obvious why he called me Goldilocks. Thankfully, despite my hair color changing into countless different hues, I never outgrew this nickname. Regardless of my age, or the color of my hair, it always made me smile to hear him call me Goldilocks. As the years wore on, there were fewer and fewer things that he remembered. I would try to visit whenever I was home from Nashville, but those trips became fewer and further between. The last time I was able to visit with Ralph at any length, he didn’t recognize me. We talked to each other, but not about the same things. Eventually, I had to leave, and my heart was a little bit broken, knowing that he didn’t understand any of what I’d tried to share with him. But before I left, I bent down by his chair to tell him I was leaving. I told him, “It’s me, Ashley. I have to go now.” “Who?” he asked. “Ashley,” I repeated... Silence... He shook his head, as though to say, “I’m just not sure who you are.” Then I said, “It’s Goldilocks.” “Goldilocks?” he said with a familiarity worth celebrating. “Yeah, Goldilocks. I have to go, but I love you very much.” “Oh, I’ve always loved you,” he told me. And in that one moment, we were a part of the same conversation. He was lucid, even if only for a few seconds. He knew me. He loved me. He remembered me as Goldilocks.