Searching for Peace

 

As I struggle with the constant battle with the demons inside my head. I am always looking and questioning my existence. My parents pressured me to be something I wasn’t called to be, societal pressures tried to mold me into something I’m not, and even the pressure to think, feel, believe, and act in a certain way influenced who I have become.

“Finding yourself is not really how it works. You aren’t a ten-dollar bill in last winter’s coat pocket. You are also not lost. Your true self is right there, buried under cultural conditioning, other people’s opinions, and inaccurate conclusions you drew as a kid that became your beliefs about who you are. Finding yourself is actually returning to yourself. An unlearning, an excavation, a remembering who you were before the world got its hands on you.” by Emily McDowell.

This year I will turn 56 years old. I am 10 years from retirement, and by society’s standards, I am a responsible and successful adult. However, I still often feel lost and unsure if I am doing what I am supposed to do in life.

My journey has been long and will continue to develop, but I am striving to find Tim. The Tim I grew up as is so different from the Tim now. Today’s Tim feels the intense pressure of life.

My shoulders ache, bowed beneath a sky of expectations and anxieties. My Chiropractor, massage therapist, and even physical therapist confirms this. Each breath feels like a mountain pressing down, every step a labored trek through quicksand. The weight of my world isn’t a globe resting upon my neck, but a thousand invisible chains: responsibilities like shackles, and constant worries, like barbed wire digging into my skin. The pressure is relentless, a symphony of doubts whispering their insidious tune, drowning out the hope that once sang so brightly. But even under this crushing weight, there’s a flicker of defiance. My legs still move, one weary step at a time. Though my shoulders are battered. They remain unbroken.

Possibly, just possibly, hidden within the weight, a tiny spark of resilience remains, urging me towards a future where the burden fades away, and the sky opens with harmony and peace.

Peace, that elusive butterfly, always seemingly just out of reach. I seek inner peace by reflecting on my life choices, cultivating forgiveness in my heart, and gaining a deeper understanding of the world around me.

This endless dance between the storms of life and the rare, still moments within me. I see brief glimpses of peace in the sun dappled stillness of a forest, or the shared laughter of my wife or son. Peace whispers in the quiet hours before dawn, promising serenity if I can just unravel all the knots of worry and resentment.

Like the many forests I have ventured through, the quest for tranquility can lead me down a shadowy and meandering path. A faint echo amidst the expanse of my life’s adventures. I may seek it in the creativity of writing, the rhythmic click of my camera’s shutter button, or the cool embrace of solitude in the forest.

Small moments bloom unexpectedly in the quiet corners of routine, a cup of tea savored in the morning sun, lyrics of a song shared at the most opportune time, a comforting hug from my wife, a call from a friend, the happiness I see in my new puppy’s eyes, or my son ending each of our phone calls with “I love you”.

But just as often, it feels like a phantom limb, a persistent ache reminding me of what I lack. There is comfort in misery. I have been through so much that even something good feels like a setup.

When I reach for tranquility, it serves as a reminder that peace is a journey, not a destination. The search itself, the constant striving towards understanding, compassion, and acceptance, is where the true treasure lies. For seeking, I try to shed the layers of fear, mistrust, and anger that obscure my inner light.

And in that dance, I am trying to learn to listen, to breathe, to hold on to hope, knowing that even in the darkest night, to which there are many, the dawn will eventually break.

Until next time,

Tim