The Calm

Grace.

That’s the best way to describe it.  Grace.  You know those people who carry themselves with an air of peace?  Those people who are kind and gentle and project solace wherever they are?  They are usually very soft spoken.  They are always sensitive…compassionate sensitive, not weenie sensitive…because their sensitivity is anything but weak.  After all, when you can appreciate the plight of others, you have to be strong.  Also, these people are generally of far greater intelligence than most of us ever dreamed for ourselves.   But they are humble.  They don’t advertise their values, because we all can see them.  There are not many people who possess this sort of harmony.  But we have all met at least one of these remarkable creatures, and we always remember them.  They are easily identifiable because they possess what so few of us understand.  They are beacons. 

I don’t have any of that. 

Calm.  Grace.  Peace.  I don’t have any of it.  It sounds delightful, though.  But inside my head, there is always noise.  There is always some sort of dissonance.  There’s always a demon.  Even on my best days, I can’t even find enough calm to sleep through the night; much less find enough poise to muster the appearance of having any of those characteristics.  I guess that all goes without saying.  Look at the title of my blog…I can’t even spell “peace” correctly. 

Maybe that’s the reason that people who do have it are so amazing to me.  It’s like speaking a foreign language.  Some people get it, most do not.  I do not.   But all the same, people who do get it are pretty admirable.  And that’s why they shine. 

The Gift.

So, why today?  Why is today the right time to recognize these gifted souls who hold the clarity and dignity to calm any storm?  Well, it’s because I encountered one today.  And I can’t stop thinking about it.  And it’s the same feeling I have every time I see this man.  I’ve only met him four times, but I always feel like I have known him my entire life.  Even though our conversations never last more than a few minutes, I feel like our dialogue has covered a lifetime of thought. He’s the kind of person who can ask you how you are doing, and even if your world is falling apart, you still say “I doing really well.”  And, even though the words seem foreign when you hear them in your own voice, you actually believe them.  He’s one of those people who you hug, and then hug again.  Then again.   You do it because it’s a shield.  It’s protection.  It’s a safe harbor in life’s tsunami.  It’s a gift. 

But who’s Gift is it? 

Well, it’s a gift to me, because every time I see Gary, I feel everything is right in the universe.  But is it his gift?  I don’t know.  I am reminded from scene in the epic HBO miniseries, Band of Brothers, when Doc Roe tells Renee, the French nurse:  “You are a good nurse.  You have a gift from God.”  She replies:  “No. It’s not a gift.  God would never give such a painful thing.”  Is that what it’s like to be an emotional healer?  Is it a gift or is it penance?  Are these people here to comfort and heal the emotionally damaged, or are the emotionally damaged a means of their own comfort and healing?  It just seems an overwhelming burden for one person to bear.  Perhaps, like everything else in life, it’s a balance.  Perhaps, it’s because every journey is different.  Perhaps, it’s just about finding your inner peas.