MOMENTS OF PEACE

Moments of Peace Karlyle Tomms 7/30/16

Pinnacle Mountain stands alone along the Arkansas River, and from the I-630 bridge appears like a burned-out volcano in the distance. It isn’t. It takes about two or three hours to climb the mountain from the park at the base to the boulder-covered peak. The trails become ever steeper near the top, and climbing over boulders is required to complete the journey.

Once there, the views are spectacular. On the east side, the Arkansas River winds through downtown Little Rock. On the west side, dark blue Lake Maumelle is usually filled with colorful sailboats. To the north, the Arkansas River curls around the base of the mountain, and tug boats push barges of merchandise up and down the river. On the south side, miles of farm land and neighborhoods stretch as far as the eye can see.

When I lived in Little Rock, this was one of my places of refuge from life's stresses. In addition to the trails up the mountain, there are hiking trails that wind off through the forest on the opposite side of the park. I learned that I could sneak away from one of those trails (Yes, I know I’m not supposed to) and take a five or ten-minute walk through the woods to a cliff overhanging the river. I used to go there and sit on the edge of that cliff with my legs dangling over a rock. There, I would watch the boats traverse the curving river and spend quiet time alone in nature.

Have you ever noticed that when you just sit quietly, alone in nature, you automatically calm down? No drugs or alcohol are needed to soothe the anxiety. It is soothed simply by sitting and observing the natural world. This is what I call rocking in the arms of Mother Nature. I learned to do this as a child by observing my grandmother. She would leave the house angry, be gone for an hour or two out on the farm, and when she came back, the anger was gone. You could tell that she wasn’t just pretending not to be mad anymore; the anger was gone. Since my grandfather was a bit of a controlling tyrant, she had frequent reasons to be angry. He was so controlling of her that the first check she ever signed on their joint checking account was to pay for his funeral. She once told me that she stayed with him because she had made a promise to be with him for better or worse. I responded, “Unfortunately, about all you got was worse.”

I watched her leave the house angry and come back in peace. So, when I became upset, I began leaving the house for hours at a time, alone on the farm. I didn’t know what she did while she was out there, and when I was a child, I didn’t ask. I left the house. At first, I meandered about the pastureland of approximately 180 acres. I went down into a huge sinkhole that edged one of our pastures. It was so ancient that full-grown trees grew within it all the way to the bottom. I found a rock that sat in the middle of one of our pastures. It was about as high as the average chair and about as wide as a small dining table. Sometimes, I would sit on that rock, but it was too much out in the open. Sometimes I sat on the bank of one of our various ponds and listened to the frogs sing. Eventually, I found a huge rock about the same size as a large home storage building, but taller. The rock was on a hillside that rose from the spring-fed creek that ran across the back side of our farm. Trees grew around it, spread branches over the top, and shaded it from the hot summer sun. Don’t the hill, I could hear the waters of the creek trickling away on nature's journey. This became my favorite refuge.

I would climb that rock and sit for hours up in the tree line where no one could see me, even if they walked around the base. There among the branches of oaks and hickory, I watched squirrels play, listened to cardinals sing, and observed the leaves gently dancing in the summer breeze. There, I calmed down. I didn’t necessarily give up the resentments I had about being mistreated by my grandfather or my alcoholic uncle, who lived with us, but I relaxed enough to rest. Sometimes, I even fell asleep atop that rock only to awaken as dusk was casting low shadows over the world. At those times, I had to rush back to the house before darkness fell.

I was never quite as good with letting the anger go as Grandma was, but I was at least able to find some calm before I came home. Years later, when I learned to meditate, I found another source of peace, very similar to the experience I had atop my rock. When I saw the movie “Phenomenon” with John Travolta, it perfectly depicted those states of mindfulness that occur when one is deeply in tune with the present moment. There is a particular scene in the movie where Travolta’s character becomes very angry. He goes home and begins digging aggressively at the dirt in his garden. As he is digging, a breeze comes through. He stops digging and is transported fully into the present moment. Watching the leaves gently dance, he becomes centered in mindfulness and peaceful again.

When we are fully centered in a peaceful moment, it is impossible to have resentments, anger, guilt, or fear. All those experiences are based either in the past or in the future, in some memory or in the imagination. The bottom line is this: if it is not happening right now, in this very moment, it is either a memory or a fantasy. Since neither a memory nor a fantasy can be real, ultimately the only reality we experience is the present moment. Our mind can travel in time, go back to some memory, whether pleasant or unpleasant, or go forward into our imagining of what the future might become, but the body cannot travel in time. It can only be in this moment, right here, right now. We can remember the last moment or imagine the next, but the body is always here. When we can focus our attention on the moment, there is peace. The way we know we are here in this moment is to become as fully aware as possible of what we experience in our senses, what we physically feel, see, hear, smell, or taste. This is the essence of mindfulness.

One of the tricks of learning to become mindful is to slow down. If there is a dollar on the sidewalk, you are most likely to see it if you are casually strolling by, not rushing or running. The slower we go, the more aware we become, and when we can stop for a while and be present, we experience greater peace. Although nature is wonderful for helping us do this, it is not necessary. We can learn to do it on a bench at the mall or in an airport. We can learn to take a moment out of our busy day to pull our minds away from schedules, deadlines, and other pressures and be aware of our surroundings. We can take a walk after work or sit in a quiet room and pull our attention as fully as possible into the moment.

If you can’t get out into nature, go to a quiet room. Turn off everything, the phone, the computer, TV, radio—everything. Sit quietly, with your feet flat on the floor, your hands in your lap, and your back straight. Imagine a force at the top of your head gently pulling you up toward the ceiling, so your back becomes straight. With your eyes closed, look upward. Begin to breathe as deeply and slowly as you can. Pay attention to the feeling of breathing, to the air flowing in and out of your nose, and the sensation of your chest rising and gently falling. Imagine that your whole body can take a breath all the way down to your toes. If your mind wanders, gently and repeatedly pull it back to the present moment and its sensations. Then pay attention to your feet. The sensation of your feet on the floor, the weight of your feet, anything that may be touching your feet. Then feel your ankles, your shins, and your calves. Feel your knees, your legs against the chair, the weight of your body on the chair. Feel anywhere that any fabric is touching your legs. Feel your waistband, your back, your belly, and your chest. Notice the sensation of breathing and whether the fabric touches your torso in one place with one breath, and touches somewhere else with the next. Feel your collar, your sleeves, and any jewelry you might be wearing. Feel your face, your head, your lips touching together, your tongue lying inside your mouth. Feel the air flowing in and out of your nose as you breathe. Feel your eyes and the top of your head.

When you have spent time simply feeling your body, even if it is pain, then listen to the gentle sounds of silence. You may hear a clock ticking, traffic passing, or a dog barking up the street. You may hear the heating or cooling unit kick on or off. You may hear a fan or other subtle sounds that fill the silence.

After you have been sitting for a while, pulling your attention repeatedly back to the gentle sounds of silence, then open your eyes and look at everything. Look as thoroughly and as completely as you possibly can look. See colors, shapes, patterns, textures, reflections, and shadows. Look at the moment with as much attention to detail as you possibly can. Allow the present moment to give you a rest from the mind’s time travel into the past or the future. Give your mind the comfort of being focused on the present moment. Let peace come.

When I became an adult, after I had finished graduate school, I mentioned to my grandmother that I had witnessed her getting angry, then going away for a while and coming back in peace. She told me that when she went out to the farm, she walked the fence rows to see if any repairs were needed. She also said something profound, “I realized that every time I got angry, my stomach got upset, and I knew if I didn’t learn how to stop being angry, I was going to make myself sick.”

How many of us have the awareness that our minds can have such a significant influence on our bodies? My grandmother realized things that later research came to prove. The body is affected by and directed by the mind. Of itself, it is nothing. Our thinking, even the deep subconscious thoughts we don’t think we think, can have a profound effect on our health and well-being. This is one of the reasons prayer works. When we align our mind with peace, our body responds with health.

My grandmother lived in a mini hell of a home life until after my grandfather died. My grandfather and my uncle were never happy. They seemed set on misery, making others around them miserable as much as they could. They did this until the day they died. It was rare to see even a glimmer of a smile from either of them, and they both died within a year of one another. After that, my grandmother lived many years by herself and was perhaps the happiest I had ever seen her. Before that time, she had determined to find her happiness and peace anyway. She determined that she was not going to let frustration drag her down into the mire where my uncle and grandfather wallowed in anger and resentment. She found a way to let it go, and in so doing, gave me an example worthy of following.

Everywhere I have lived, I have found a way to my peaceful places. Even when I lived in apartments, I took walks or found places of refuge. Sometimes I had to drive to them. Sometimes I had no choice but to cultivate mindfulness within my own little cubicle of an apartment. When I was in Nashville, I walked down to the Cumberland River late at night and sat by the river with my guitar. Sometimes I pulled sounds from the guitar strings. Sometimes I simply sat and listened to the city when almost everyone else was asleep. The Cumberland is a little more crowded there these days. When I lived in Missouri, I had a wraparound stone porch on the front of my Victorian farmhouse. I lined it with hanging flowers, sat on the porch swing, listened to my wind chimes, and watched the hummingbirds. Now, on the coast of Texas, I have found that there are places where I can slip away from the usual paths and sit unseen by the water’s edge while I listen to the gentle waves of the Gulf of Mexico. Wherever I live, wherever I go from here, I will find my refuge, or I will create a place where my mind can rest from the weary drudgery of life’s stresses. No matter where I am, I will find my moments of peace.