When I was at war with myself (neither side could win), there was no peace, no rest, no comfort. The war was real, but for the wrong reasons. Balance was impossible, standing in the middle with both sides yanking my arms from their sockets, tugging with all their might. They didn’t care that they were ripping me asunder. They didn’t care that their ridiculous dispute might go on forever. Might kill me. Might kill us all. They were caught up in the fighting, the rightness of their position, their values and ideals righteous. There is no righteousness in war. Even the bloodied winners can never forget the atrocities.
Peace is a self-forgetting, like background music. Of course it’s there, but the focus of one’s internal landscape shifts, expands, re-configures to include your surroundings, your environment, another’s orientation.
I’m no expert, but then again, I’ve made my peace, so I can speak of it. There is a power bestowed by nature, which doesn’t seek to harm or maim or decimate, but only seeks to live. “You must die that I might live” is a man made ideology. No woman that I know would say, “Save me and kill my baby.” If you have what I think I want or need, I don’t need to hurt you or annihilate you to get it. I can sit down with you and pick your brain. Describe the process. How did you do it? I can make you an ally and not an adversary, if I’m open and not threatened.
Our ‘rugged individualism’ has cost us. We are self-centered braggarts, looking to put down so we can rise up. There’s no peace in belittlement. If I can find a way to lift you up, to sing your praises, we both win. It’s not an easy process, but peace sits in the center, smiling at both sides, until the war has ended.