Pax, Shalom, Namaste

The news is bleak. Violence, anger, attempted acts of cruelty seem all too pervasive. So what to do? We can't shut the world out, so what do we do?

Today, I was not able to achieve world peace, but I was able to help unload groceries. Today, I was not able to save the coast from oil spills, but I was able to take my neighbors' trash to the nearby dump. Today, I was not able to stop crime in the big cities, but, I was able to wave at members of my town's local government body as they rode their bicycles by me on the hiking trail during the lunch hour. The sight of them riding bikes in helmets and ties made me smile. And, when I smiled, it made them smile too. Such civility!

The world news disturbed me so that I walked as quickly as I could on the trail. I walked past the four turkeys roaming wild. I speed-walked through the open forest, trying my best to push thoughts of the outside world away, but the poppies spoke. They said, "Hello, kind stranger. Please pause a while. Admire us in all our yellow-orange beauty!" What else could I do but obey? Poppies are not to be ignored. They remember things. They sing songs of childhood, songs of joy. Poppies sing of peace. Only humans dare speak of war. We have much to learn from the flowers of the forest.

Today, I could not run for public office, but I was able to converse with the person next to me on the bus. The person sitting next to me was not a stranger. Her name is Miranda, our very own octogenarian painter and writer. She has won many awards for her art. Miranda spoke to me of her years in Mexico, where she and her late husband made their living making jewelry for tourists. She spoke to me of her active lifestyle in the tennis club, and hiking club. She spoke to me of the hardship of having to choose between food and prescription medicine.

Today, I was not able to move to the miniature tower in the lake country that so captures my imagination. But, I was able to come home to my little apartment to heat up stewed beans and rice.

Today, I was not able to become an adopted member of the Walton's family. But, I was able to write this letter to you, dear reader. Can you ever know how much I love you?

Today, I saw my doctor and his wife strolling down Main Street, arm in arm. My doctor kissed Beatrice, his wife, with such gentle affection. I stood there as he told me how proud he is of his son. "He works for George Lucas!" My doctor's eyes beamed as he mentioned the name of the cinema tycoon. I smiled, and felt the warmth in my doctor's heart.

This is my peace piece. In our community, small things matter. Civility prevails. Fathers love their sons. Neighbors hug one another. And, the Sacred is to be found in the every day.