That Kind Of Peace

5:30 am. Ink dark outside. Cold. Breakfast of oats, flaxseeds, banana, avocado, raw honey, almond milk, yogurt and organic green tea and poetry. And this simple yet calming poem by Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things,” touches my being to its deepest core. Comforting. Inspiring. Healing. Nature soothes a weary soul. When you are with nature you are free. It makes you realize that peace is not elusive if you choose it not to be, it helps you journey to a place where there is no need to analyze but to just surrender to the logic of the heart to make sense of things; it allows you to deeply connect to the kind of peace that the ancients know thousands of years ago. It is the kind of peace that takes you away from the maddening world and makes you focus on a yellow leaf resting on an aged cold stone and lifts you up to a sense of awe and wonder because it tingles your heart and brings you back to what a child sees. It has a way of putting you in a placid disposition, giving new awareness and clarity in seeing the world in a more compassionate way. And then you are transported to that other part of existence, that other reality, that is peaceful, beautiful and benevolent. It is what it is. And for that one moment you find yourself at peace with yourself and the world. And time momentarily collapses.