I drove to work today {I usually take the bus to the Very Large Hospital} and when it was time to leave, it was dark {of course} -- sidewalks lit by dim streetlight. And foggy. Lightly raining. The most perfect deciduous tree leaves falling at regularly timed intervals.
For the first time in a long, long time, I dawdled on my way to the car. Stopped on the sky bridge to overlook the campus and breathed the cold air in deeply. Experienced a tidal wave of contentment. Of peace.
For the first time in years, I feel completely and totally at rest. There is no other way to put it. I'm sitting in my very, very small studio apartment and am getting ready to start {more} {never-ending} homework. I'm completely graduate student poor. Busy out of my mind, most days.
But centered in a way that has eluded me for years. Whatever is at the core of me is being fed daily. I still don't really know what's at the core of me. Not really. But right now? Whatever it is, it's strong.
On Sunday I went to a children's musical with my sister, Lizz. We didn't truly know that it was a children's musical, put on by children, for children. But it didn't really matter. As I was sitting there, quietly, watching this rather well performed, decently funded production, I fought tears several times. Because, I'm a dork. And also, because I was sitting in an utterly charming, historic theater, watching the mystical play of children on a perfect, absolutely perfect, fall day.
So completely at peace.
I've done a perfectly inadequate job explaining any of this. But this contentment, this quiet peace, this resting at your core ... If I could give this away, I would.
It feels terribly selfish to keep it to myself.
All right Peaceful lady..... looking for ya!
Peace to you, Aminta. :) (It's also helpful to keep in mind I'm unmarried with no children, which may actually contribute quite mightily to a sense of quiet. ;))
When I have those moments, I stop, breathe and say THANK YOU...and "REMEMBER THIS MOMENT" so that I can call it up and breathe it again later when it seems to have eluded me.