The Peace is in the Pace

Like any glimmer of insight this may only be applicable to me and my lived experience, but I'm learning we're a lot more alike than I knew, so you may get something out of it too.

By far my favorite part of any project is creating the title. My least favorite part is all that time spent coming up with crap names. My podcast was called “Awaken Bake” and my original idea for it was “Awakin’ and Abakin’”. They cannot all be winners. The thing is though, the right one will come when it is meant to be.

The publication has gone through quite a few name transitions. At one point last fall she was called “In Pursuit of Peace” and I planned on chronicling my journey through life in search of peace. Eventually I realized that was too limiting of a title for this work, thus “Humor Me” was born. It’s a good thing too because if my only goal was to share with you my journey to find peace this would be my last entry. I have found it.

Let me clarify: I have found my peace. It could be yours too, who knows, I am not going to say it. I usually am right though, so read along and take notes.

Obviously the idea of “peace” is a deeply nuanced and difficult thing to define so I would like to fully explain what I mean when I say I found my peace.

It is hard to put into words how bad I wanted to be a part of this family, and now how grateful I am not

For the entirety of my life I have been off by a fraction of a millisecond from the rest of the world. Growing up “Full House” is where I received my dose of wholesome family time and there is an episode where DJ and Steph put a hole in the wall in their father’s room. Now if you have watched the show, you know that their father, Danny, has rather severe OCD. If you didn’t, you do now. So when the girls fixed the hole they knew it had to be perfect and that they had to return everything right to where it was. Alas, Danny came home and when he went upstairs he started to settle in and everything was almost perfect, but an inch off. So when he tossed his wallet onto the dresser, it slammed to the floor. He stubbed his toe on the bed post. Even missed the mattress wen he attempted to flop down in frustration. I remember sitting there, as a child, watching this thinking “Oh this is what it is like to be me”. That was the first time I thought that.

It isn’t in orientation that I am off though, it is timing. I am a slow person. I hate the connotation that has, so please know I am not trying to be offensive. I proudly am saying, I am a slow person. I process slowly, I learn slowly, I cook slowly, clean slowly. My best work is when I take my sweet ass time.

It was always confusing being a kid because I would be told to take my time and do it right, then when I took that instruction I would be reprimanded for taking too long. So I learned at a very young age to just keep running. If everyone else was able to walk and get there, I had to do whatever I could to keep up. I spent the majority of my short life desperately trying to keep up with the world around me. I had no idea I was worthy of allowing myself the time I need.

The world doesn’t exactly tell you what you are worthy of, we have to find out on our own. I am slow, so maybe it just took me a little longer to learn this. I am worthy of taking my time. Turns out, when I do, I am so much more powerful. I am like the ocean, I love and flow in ways that you may not see on the surface, I promise underneath the currents are constantly flowing.

The ocean has always controlled me

I wish I could articulate how the phrase “Peace is in the pace” came to me better but it truly was just a download from source that I have honored since and it truly has allowed me to find my peace.

I always thought of peace as a stillness and tranquility. In some ways that is a perfect definition. This peace, my peace, is a place of complete self acceptance that allows me to flow without resistance. I can do hard things in my peace. If I focus on my pace, slow it down, then a peace takes over that guides me.

Perhaps it may be controversial for me to say, but I can be angry in my peace. If I allow myself to find my slowness, if I sit with that emotion, instead of it taking over and controlling me; we sit and exist together. Not one over the other. No one can take it from me, my peace, my slowness. It is a superpower I think far too few humans exercise, yet all can access.

I have a hyper fixation on true crime. Probably funny to read from someone who literally just claimed to be the most peaceful person, bear with me. I find the human existence fascinating, if I could handle school I would go to become a psychiatrist to work with criminals. There is a particularly horrendous crime committed in Arizona in 1991¹. In the city of Waddell there was a Thai Buddhist Temple called Wat Promkunaram. There, on August 10th, nine people lost their lives. Six of them were monks, then a nun and her 17 year-old grandson and an acolyte. Some young boys had entered the temple, robbed and murdered their victims and left. All nine victims were shot at least twice, once in the head. They were placed in an oval and believed to be kneeling around facing each other, when the killer walked around and shot them each one at a time.

What I find fascinating about this particular murder is that upon discovery and examination it appeared that not one of them fought back. It is believed by many who practice Buddhism that, most likely, they each accepted their fate and retreated into themselves to take refuge in the Buddha. They essentially entered a mediation and allowed themselves to die prior to having their lives taken. Perhaps that sounds crazy, but I can’t think of another way one watches eight other people get shot and waits their turn.

Maybe I am crazy, but this brought me an overwhelming amount of peace. To know that with complete release and acceptance I can find strength in the most impossible of times. And maybe I can’t yet, but I am sure as hell going to keep finding my peace and sitting in it. I am going to keep feeling and healing my emotions with my peace.

I am living in my peace by living at my pace. I have never felt…human, until I just let myself simply be.

I am an Addict

I fucking hate that I am writing this. I don’t even know if writing it even means I will stick to it. I am an addict though and I think I want to quit. First step is admitting it right?

I have denied my addiction forever because cannabis is medicinal, and it is. I think the real reason I am so protective of it is because it saved my life and it’s scary to think of losing that safety. That friend. Fuck I sound like an addict. I needed weed at times and it came through of me. It allowed me to slow when I didn’t know that is what I needed. Before I found my peaceful pace. It allowed me to follow through with a thought and focus. It single handedly helped me to survive my mid twenties when I went through extreme transitions. It was my rock.

I love it. I will never speak a poor word on it.

I fear, however, I may be outgrowing my sweet green treat.

I am 29 years old, I am a mom, I am medicated and capable of finding peace. Do I still justify smoking cannabis when those are the big things I needed it for? My mental health difficulties and inability to neuro-regulate. If I can do that, do I still get weed?

Hard as it is for me to type…I think for a while maybe not. Maybe I just raw dog this life situation for a bit ad seriously allow myself to feel. Let’s see just how much we can handle. Well, not that extreme, but I think I can handle more than I realize. I think I can exist without it. Without the high.

I hate admitting it may even be good for me…right? To take a break and be clear for a bit?

I think I also struggle because it is a huge part of my personality. Oh god is that even more addict sounding? I just feel like, it helps me unmask and be myself with others. Okay now I am back to fully believing in my medicinal need for my medication…

Maybe today we just start with step one? I admit to you guys that I am an addict.

I am an addict.

I’ll miss her the most, I think ill make her a vase

Give Them Heaven

Yesterday, I went to church.

It was for a Thai Chi class, but it was still inside a church. So I went to church for the first time in seven years. And the first time nonCatholic. I think? It was Methodist and it reminded me of a sports complex. They do have soccer on Mondays and Wednesdays. It always interests me how casual nonCatholic churches are (in Christianity at least). The one thing I could count on mass for was an hour of admiring the beautiful stained glass windows that my parish was decorated with. They depicted the Stations of the Cross. The story of Jesus carrying the cross and then dying on it for those unaware. Again, this fascinated me, I’ve always been fascinated in the dark stuff, it’s the realest.

So here I am with my 13 month old, walking into a church I’ve never been to, that I don’t know the rules of and I wasn’t scared. Nervous about being weird, sure, but scared, no.

I would have been. A few months ago. I would be gawking at myself for typing this. Upset that I even supported a church by acknowledging its existence. I hate church. I hated religion.

I don’t hate now. So I went to church. Cause I wanted to do Thai Chi and there’s a place in my town I can! It’s this church.

We walk in and there’s a bunch of chairs being set up, also so fucking strange because pews people! A woman sees me and comes over to ask if she can help, then pointed me to where the class was. It was a big room so it was just off to one side. Pheebs and I strolled over and sat on the floor playing. Obviously this entertained her for 0.2 seconds and then we started wandering. We said hi to the parishioners (is that a Catholic only term?), we helped set up chairs. They were having a large concert that night for some Christian rock star. I politely declined the invite, but it was still so wonderful to be in that energy.

I will give a church one thing, it can be a place for a great community. This one seemed like that. They were helping each other. They were working together. They were open and accepting of me and my child, a stranger. A nonmember. That was beautiful.

I was asked to come to Sunday mass sometime which I won’t be doing, but I will definitely continue to do my Thai Chi there! I am excited to try my exposure therapy methodology on this particular fear of mine. I guess that’s the season’s theme: learning to coexist with religion. I did it with the bugs, how hard could this be?

The best part?

As I was walking out I noticed a large sign hanging above the door. It read:

“Give Them Heaven”

Love that.

I think what will be coolest about this exploration will be focusing on religions I have little experience with. In my home we have every holy text basically, except the Bible. We even have the text on Pastafarianism or the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I am setting out to read from one each day. I started with the Quaran today.

My holy collection…so far

“And do not turn your cheek [in contempt] toward people and do not walk through the earth exultantly. Indeed, Allah does not like everyone self-deluded and boastful. And be moderate in your pace and lower your voice; indeed, the most disagreeable of sounds is the voice of donkeys.” Surah Luqman Ayat 18-19

This passage seemed perfectly applicable to bring this piece to a close.

Thank you for your love, patience and acceptance. I can feel it and I am so grateful.

If you are able I am share the link to a GoFund me to help 7 lives in need in Gaza:

GoFundMe Mohammad

Below is the link to a one click email page created by Operation Olive Branch if you are not able to financially help! Anything helps! Keep calling your representatives and expanding your perceptions!

OOB One Click Email

1. "A Place of Peace-A Place of Blood" —Article for reference on the murder in Waddell, Az.