Why Peace Isn’t Found

I was asked again the other day, how did I do it?

I told the story I usually told, but halfway through I realized something had changed. I used to think my sobriety story revolved around yoga. And in a lot of ways it did. But the main thing that occurred was I felt peace for the first time, in a long time. 

And once I felt that, everything else felt second to it.

I didn’t realize this at once. It was hard to get rid of old habits. Drinking had become so ingrained into my entertainment, rituals of connection, relaxation, and fun. It had become so ingrained in my identity. I didn’t know who I would be without it. I was scared of the huge void sobriety would leave. I had no idea how I would fill it. 

So I kept on with what I’d known for my whole adult life, but each time I’d drink there was never the sense of satisfaction I thought I’d get. So I’d drink more, thinking "more is better" would fix the underlying nagging feeling that something wasn't right.  

Looking back, I think I already knew that whatever alcohol could give me would be miles behind what that moment of peace had given me. 

And that’s why I attributed my sobriety to yoga. Because it was mostly while I was doing yoga that I would feel peace. I thought I had to go to yoga to find peace. 

But now 18 months into sobriety, I’m learning something crucial, about myself, and perhaps a truth I’d been missing. 

Peace isn’t found, it’s felt. 

We spend our lives on the move, chasing. Doing for a sense of completion. Asking for a sense of presence. Demanding to be seen. Screaming to be heard. Fighting to have a spot of significance. 

The human race became less about being human and more about winning a race the moment we first heard the words, “hurry up.”  

How can peace be felt if nothing we do is enough? If just being isn’t enough?

Peace isn’t something we find at the end of a long and arduous journey. It isn’t found after years of devout meditation or decades of yoga practice. 

Peace can be felt now. 

Just are you are. Just as I am. 

Peace is in this moment that you choose to choose. Not the leaf carried away by the river but the river itself. Constant, moving, shifting, changing. This breath is not the same as the last. We’re constantly moving towards our last breath. What will you do until then?

The choices are endless, and because of that, the only sane thing seems to be to choose to feel peace, over and over again, no matter what is around us. Before us. Within us. 

Because peace can coexist with anything at the same time. Peace exists within you always. It’s everything else that we choose to put before it that hurts, nags, feels unbearable. 

What are you choosing to put first? To do first? Be first? Feel first?

So if you were to ask me now, how did I do it?

This. I chose this.