Fred’s Journal: Peace Is Where You Notice It, When You Notice It

An Early Summer Saturday Afternoon

If I had to point to the one reason most people come to me most of the time, I’d say they come in search of peace. Most find it, but when they do, the first thing they notice about peace is that they never left it to begin with. You can’t leave what you are, and we are Peace itself. Peace is always available – it only requires that you notice it. On a quite rare day when neither one of us was commanded to work (Betsy by the VA, or I by That from which this teaching springs), we did just that.

We had tea and toast out on the front porch of the cabin in our backyard. We have now lived here a year. In just 29 more years we’ll either be pushing up daisies, or we’ll own the title to the house we’re currently “renting” from our mortgage lender, who’s renting it from God, Who, in turn, is renting it from That from which this teaching springs. Thoreau had his refuge and we have ours. It is sweet.

We each carried a tray outdoors, with Betsy bearing the tea, because she is a steadier and more reliable carrier of things than I am. I am not always in communion with the Fred unit, and thus it can be a bit of a spiller. It was an absolutely lovely half hour, yet from the outside looking in there was nothing special happening. From our view, however, there certainly was something special happening: Ordinary Peace. Let me tell you about it.

The tea was so fresh and cleansing to the palate – a real stand-up-and-take-notice delight – just as it always is. It was our usual, Twining’s English Breakfast, which is mundane to the gourmet, but a feast of flavor for Conscious Awakeness. Betsy adds cream and sugar; I don’t partake of anything but what steeps from the bag. 

The toast was Pepperidge Farm 15 Grain Whole Bread. I think it’s great for toast, but pretty much horse chowder for anything else. I follow Betsy’s lead in these matters. We both spread the soft and salted version of Plugra, a premium, European-style butter that makes all the difference. Betsy always drips her toast with golden honey while I sparingly use grape jam. A little sweet goes a long way in my book.

It was all just small table-talk. Again, nothing special. We talked about the Next Project, which rather strangely (in my unspoken opinion) is about further beautifying the carport our crew finished building just last month. It’s good, it’s nice, but it’s just not quite there. Betsy has an artist’s sensibilities, and thus is sometimes a bit difficult to please, but the finished project is always Evident Perfection. I intercede only on large-budget items, and I’m nearly always won over. This morning she has a bit of sore throat, which her makes her always-sexy voice yet sexier, so I never stood a chance.

Our friend and fellow addict, Rick, will help her. We talked a little about his situation. Betsy’s been helping him adjust to early sobriety, and she is also working to get him a beater of a car from her family, who has no use for it. I think even Goodwill might turn it’s nose up at this old station wagon, but beater or not, I remember the difference between having motorized transportation and not having it. For the first three years I was sober I had a motorcycle. Only. It was a godsend, but I suffered mightily in storm and cold. Rick is making real progress.

We oohed and aahed while cardinals and Carolina wrens enjoyed themselves at the newest suet feeder I had hung just this week. We had hot and cold running birds at the old place, and deeply missed them last year, when there was too much unknown, loud and busy construction happening here to draw in any resident birds. This year I’m spoiling them with two sunflower seed feeders, a sprinkling of suet feeders and a birdbath. We’ve spoiled Willy and Jack to the point that they are absolutely worthless (yet priceless!), so why not turn our attention to ruining the birds?

Absolute perfect Peace. Right here, right now, in the midst of the boiling world. Wow.

Next we came back inside. The air conditioning was cool and welcoming. And then I wrote this.