 Pockets of Peace
August 2007
My son’s favorite book at the moment is called Five Minutes' Peace. It's the story of a harried Mama Elephant who seeks a few moments of respite from her three young children, but just can't manage the act. She leaves them at the breakfast table and sneaks to the bathroom for a tub, along with a pot of tea and the morning paper. The eager kids follow, with their musical instruments, books and toys. Eventually the whole family ends up in the tub, frolicking together, everyone happy and bright except Mama.
Finally Mrs. Large sneaks out of the tub, slips downstairs and plops herself in front of the crumb-covered kitchen table she had fled a few minutes before. And there she blissfully savors three minutes and forty-five seconds of peace before her soggy children come stumbling down the stairs to climb all over her again.
I didn’t actually buy this book for Liam. I bought it for me. Primarily because I identify with Mama Elephant, adoring my child unfailingly but also longing for a little more freedom and tranquility in my life. I admire Mrs. Large’s resourcefulness and creativity (not to mention her sneakiness). And I envy her ability to settle for a little less than perfect - to make the most of a few brief moments of peace, even though she longs for so much more.
I must admit, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time lately fantasizing about freedom. About a silent walk alone in the woods. A quiet and uninterrupted conversation with a dear friend. An afternoon with no agenda but a good book, a cup of tea, and a nap in the sun. For now, though, these possibilities remain sheer fantasy. Any mother will tell you that busy days surrounded by young children rarely include more than a few gasps of quiet and calm.
And so I surprised myself the other day, as I reclined in a beach chair in the backyard, watching my son prepare a salad of leaves and sticks in his country cottage. My eyes settled on the lush greenery of May – fresh leaves, bright blades of grass, and lily buds full of inordinate promise. I looked up at the crisp blue sky, so vast and full of possibility. And then I settled my attention onto the twittering of birds all around, their voices complemented by Liam’s own chirping nearby. I realized that although I wasn't completely free to follow any whim that might come my way - I had my son to keep track of after all - life in that moment felt remarkably beautiful and serene. “My five minutes of peace,” I thought. “Here they are!”
This happened again a few days later, while nestling into the hammock with Liam and musing about the bloom of early summer. I wasn’t vacationing on a Caribbean beach or immersing myself in a weeklong yoga retreat, but I was enjoying a simple moment with my son, lulled into ease by the swinging of hammock and the tender sights of June. "Another few moments of peace," I whispered to myself, "right here in the middle of this crazy day."
The more I’ve looked, the more I’ve stumbled upon these golden little gaps. They appear like unbidden gifts hidden between laundry, errands and the endless demands of a three-year old. At first I called them “stolen moments,” but then I realized they weren’t so much stolen as simply found. Fresh little pockets of peace that, in my fierce hold on life’s everydayness, I had almost overlooked.
By now I have learned to make the most of Mama Elephant’s moments, whenever they do appear. I smile happily, exhale a big sigh of relief, and settle deeply into them. I let that welcome peace sink right into the marrow of my bones, and whisper a secret prayer that this moment may soothe and sustain me until the next restful pause arrives. With each passing breath, some measure of sanity and clarity blooms in my chest. I feel reborn, reawakened, revitalized.
These newly discovered oases scattered throughout my days have prompted me to consider that life may be best measured in tastes rather than meals, in minutes rather than lifetimes. We don’t have to reach for the whiz-bang perfection of eternal peace in some other time and some other place. We can find ways to savor it in little bites like Mama Elephant, right here and now in the midst of our messy lives.
Imagine what would happen if we committed to looking for happiness and contentment within the boundaries of our current lives, in the simple delights of each passing breath, instead of striving for perfect peace in some far off fantasy of tomorrow. What if wisdom actually lies in seeking fulfillment within our lives as they are, rather than in mythical Edens that hang perpetually beyond our reach?
This possibility inspires me to stay on the lookout for pockets of tranquility strung throughout my day. Even the littlest ones that pass in the blink of an eye, and are nudged aside by responsibilities and life’s mundane chores... A gaze at that first bloom of the peony bush in the garden. An easy walk down the street with no aim but fresh air and a taste of twilight. Those first few hazy moments upon awakening, and the last soft breaths before sleep.
When strung together these small moments may not create a single and unbroken cord of endless peace, but they do create a fabulous cascade of twinkling lights. And their brilliancy sustains us, fuels us, and offers more than enough brilliance to illuminate our days.
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