Pockets of Peace

Finding a little space throughout the day.

The sky begins its transition from baby blue to pink and yellow, and across the next twenty minutes, I see clouds gather and disperse; the lights of the city flicker on. To the east, I watch the sweeping animated gestures that crown the Salesforce Tower, and south of there, the golden domes of a church-turned-art-center. SOMA (South of Market) stretches out before me, with Potrero Hill and Bernal beyond. I keep scanning right, and there’s Noe, Mission Dolores. I walked there earlier with a friend, circling the park with her pup on a lunch break.

South of Market, San Francisco.

Every day, I step out of my routine to see the larger picture. How do I fit in, and how does this city stitch itself together? This question—and this higher perspective—has been crucial as I wind my way through my days.

I find that peace is difficult to come by unless we make time for it. It’s easy to roll out of bed and turn on the news, chat with friends, commute, and pass through the office and all our errands with the steady hum of the city in the background, with the looping track of our thoughts offering their continuous assessments and analysis. Most days, I sense that the noise of the city would be enough; adding the extra noise from our own minds just adds to the burden. (I think of Anne Lamott’s hilarious name for the static: K-Fucked Radio.)

But what I find is that carving out small pockets of space and time—between all the activities—seems to quiet things.

Am I a monk? Not at all. I’m a human with a human mind that I simply cannot control—but that I can watch, carefully and with curiosity. And I’ve been noticing that the more often I take small breaks in the day—on the bus carting groceries, in line at the pharmacy, on a park bench between destinations—the more easily I can come back to myself and find a little more peace.

And that, recently, has been important to me.

Not simply because it makes life feel a little easier, but because when I’m overwhelmed, it’s hard to make wise decisions—or even know what to do next.

Pausing helps me determine the best next step.

Some friends maintain dedicated meditation practices: one attends weekly sittings at the San Francisco Zen Center; several meditate daily with the Open app; others prefer yoga and light stretching before a long savasana. One friend sits quietly for fifteen minutes each night before bed. Me? I’m still experimenting—but a central part of my current practice is finding some fresh air, perhaps at a peak, taking it in, and then welcoming myself back to my breath and my body.

As our days get busier and our lives more complicated, and as the noise we want to tune out grows louder, I’m wondering: what’s working well for you? What’s your practice, and how do you hope to tweak it?

Sending you wishes for peace…

xx,
Camille