Struggle for Peace

Peace.

I wish I had it.

I wish that once you did have it, you could rest in that moment of peace, and it would last a lifetime.

But all I have are moments. Flashes of peace where I am transferred to an ocean. In that ocean I stand waist deep and my fingers gently glide over the surface of the water as I see a wave approach. The wave is intimidating, and part of me wants to turn and run. But, the adventurous part overpowers and my feet grow roots. My lip slowly curls up at one corner. The single event of the crash is beauty defined. It is every part of a punk rock song that has ever resonated in the caverns of your body. The turning water tackles me, not even missing a beat in its furious path. I am a soda can being crushed by a locomotive. I love the experience of being rocked by a wave. It is completely frightening in the middle of it. I stick my hands straight up in the air so that I know from the feel of air on my palms which way is up. I can taste salt. My heart races as I almost panic, becoming frantic and uncertain. I am never sure how long I will remain under, or how much longer I can hold my breath, but I hold it anyway. I am anxious to stand in the aftermath. Because there is no greater moment. No greater peace.

I greatly respect everything that water in motion can do. Being a pawn in its motion is my catharsis. It is my transcendence to something deeper than me, my life, my pain, my joy, my whatever. It is deeper. It is above.

When I find my balance and return my feet to the submerged, soft ground, I stand in the aftermath. There is a light crackle heard from the dissipating foam. I love this moment. This is the depth of my peace. My face, hair, ears, nose and lips drip water from having been completely drenched. The crackle fades, the sun shines, and the water is smooth again. Air is the freshest here. After I have struggled so hard to maintain myself in the midst of rocked chaos, air is the best...here.

The event of being rocked by an ocean's rhythm is like the indifference, darkness, and confusion of pain between beats of peace. Life is never static (hear a black and white fuzzy television noise in the background). Sometimes my life feels like it shifts from peace to pain. The interplay is so scattered, so undefined, and so unreliable that I can never guarantee what I will feel in the next hour. I have learned, I guess, throughout life that it can change drastically in a moment. A gut-dropping, heart-sinking, you know life will never be the same again moment. I have had a few of those. That is when I have been in the fury of life's chaos. I have to maintain myself somehow. I have to struggle: to question. To hold my breath, sit in the pain, let it wash over me, consume everything about me, and ultimately let it go. Then I come back to my feet, and stand in the aftermath. Air is the freshest here.

After a wave, there is rest.

And then I get to do it all over again (lip slowly curling up at corner).

that's all
me