Serenity
In Eastern philosophy and religion, the bodhisattva Quan Yin (or Guan Yin or Kwan Yin, etc.), is designated as the Goddess or human(ish) personification of compassion and serenity. While she may be depicted in many ways, I find myself particularly drawn to the rendition of Kwan Yin standing peacefully, while slowly pouring water from a Jade vase - symbolizing the passage of time and the calmness of each moment. Much like a fountain, the tranquil flow of water from the vase symbolizes many things - life, the passage of time, change, or tranquil movement. But above all, the controlled and steady cascade of water represents peace and serenity.
As we drift through life facing the stresses of adulthood, from time to time each and every one of us needs to have a bit of serenity. Some may find it in a good book and a comfy chair, others in a bubble bath surrounded by candles and soft music, and other still a nice walk in the woods or drive in the countryside. For me personally, serenity often evades me. I am a victim of my own self, really. I have so much trouble winding down. Every little thing catches my attention. Did I finish that particular project? How could I have responded to someone differently? What is on my agenda for tomorrow? Did I check the cats’ water bowl? Is the front door locked? What was that noise? Is the alarm clock set for crack of dawn? Are the magazines stacked nicely on the coffee table? Etc., etc., etc. Sadly, and rather frustratingly, I find it very difficult most of the time to find my bliss and enjoy moments of serenity. But in so many ways, I count myself lucky. Why? Because the scarcity of it, makes it all the more special in those moments where I find it. It is like a very special gift. And for me, serenity has occurred more in particular places than in circumstances. For instance…
When I was a child growing up in Provincetown, serenity was easy. Some of my earliest (and somewhat spotty) memories transport me back to the harbor beach behind our house on Commercial Street. Off season, the fog would roll in thick and impenetrable. And in those days, as had been the case for centuries before, the fog could mean certain peril for ships relying on clear visibility. Thus, the light houses would sound their fog horns to warn passing boats away from the shore. But in the stillness of a calm morning in the fog, there was no threat… no harsh peril… no ships travelling. There was simply me - a little boy sitting quietly in the sand - alone in the fog listening to the fog horn. Everything remained perfectly still. Perhaps occasionally a seagull would sound off in the distance. But enfolded in the fog, I found myself blanketed in serenity.
In my thirties, when I travelled to Ireland, a stop in Kildaire was nothing if not mandatory. The drive to Kildaire was in and of itself a pleasure. I had never seen so much uninterrupted green in my life! The land around Kildaire is known as “Brigid’s Mantle,” and has the national status of being protected land - not to be touched or developed. The town of Kildaire is as quaint and cozy as one might expect for a little Irish Hamlet, with ruins, mossy stone walls, old churches, graveyards, and more women named, “Brigid” on the tombstones than I had ever seen. But looking back, nothing could have prepared me for the experience of visiting Brigid’s Well. A natural well dating back beyond memory, Brigid’s Well is nothing if not a magical place, with such a living feeling of energy and healing and calmness. As I strolled down the road from the churchyard to the well, I could feel a change in the air. And even in the crisp and moist breeze, I could feel something transform. Turning the corner to the well, it felt otherworldly. The breeze suddenly just… stopped. The cold damp air suddenly felt, comfortable. And there, surrounded by trees and branches wrapped in ribbons of every color representing prayers, spells, wishes, and offerings; stood the well - as it had stood for centuries, covered in moist and vibrant moss. The water, pure and clean, flowed. And on the smooth and round rocks within the well, I could see shiny coins, and offerings to the Goddess/Saint. Visiting this holy place felt like such an honor. And as I walked away, having splashed my face with some of the holy water, I felt such a complete and utter sense of… you guessed it… serenity.
Last year, my hubby and I had the joy of visiting the Big Island of Hawaii. Our colleagues there spoiled us rotten and shuttled us around wherever we wanted to go. But one of our unexpected trips turned out to be one of our most memorable - the Valley of the Temples. Nestled away in the mountains, in between waterfalls galore, rests a memorial park focused on areas of different faiths, all congregating in the same place. Within the Valley of the Temples rests the Byodo-In Temple, a replica of an 11th century Buddhist Temple. And despite its relatively young existence, it feels like it has been there since the dawn of time. There, the air is still. There, troubles fade away. There, the coy remind you that no problem is too big a problem. There, the birds land right in the palm of your hand. There… you find serenity.
Whether you find your serenity in a particular place or in an action, finding one’s bliss can make all the difference in terms of recharging one’s drive, energy, inspiration, and sense of inner-peace.
Where do you find serenity?
As we drift through life facing the stresses of adulthood, from time to time each and every one of us needs to have a bit of serenity. Some may find it in a good book and a comfy chair, others in a bubble bath surrounded by candles and soft music, and other still a nice walk in the woods or drive in the countryside. For me personally, serenity often evades me. I am a victim of my own self, really. I have so much trouble winding down. Every little thing catches my attention. Did I finish that particular project? How could I have responded to someone differently? What is on my agenda for tomorrow? Did I check the cats’ water bowl? Is the front door locked? What was that noise? Is the alarm clock set for crack of dawn? Are the magazines stacked nicely on the coffee table? Etc., etc., etc. Sadly, and rather frustratingly, I find it very difficult most of the time to find my bliss and enjoy moments of serenity. But in so many ways, I count myself lucky. Why? Because the scarcity of it, makes it all the more special in those moments where I find it. It is like a very special gift. And for me, serenity has occurred more in particular places than in circumstances. For instance…
When I was a child growing up in Provincetown, serenity was easy. Some of my earliest (and somewhat spotty) memories transport me back to the harbor beach behind our house on Commercial Street. Off season, the fog would roll in thick and impenetrable. And in those days, as had been the case for centuries before, the fog could mean certain peril for ships relying on clear visibility. Thus, the light houses would sound their fog horns to warn passing boats away from the shore. But in the stillness of a calm morning in the fog, there was no threat… no harsh peril… no ships travelling. There was simply me - a little boy sitting quietly in the sand - alone in the fog listening to the fog horn. Everything remained perfectly still. Perhaps occasionally a seagull would sound off in the distance. But enfolded in the fog, I found myself blanketed in serenity.
In my thirties, when I travelled to Ireland, a stop in Kildaire was nothing if not mandatory. The drive to Kildaire was in and of itself a pleasure. I had never seen so much uninterrupted green in my life! The land around Kildaire is known as “Brigid’s Mantle,” and has the national status of being protected land - not to be touched or developed. The town of Kildaire is as quaint and cozy as one might expect for a little Irish Hamlet, with ruins, mossy stone walls, old churches, graveyards, and more women named, “Brigid” on the tombstones than I had ever seen. But looking back, nothing could have prepared me for the experience of visiting Brigid’s Well. A natural well dating back beyond memory, Brigid’s Well is nothing if not a magical place, with such a living feeling of energy and healing and calmness. As I strolled down the road from the churchyard to the well, I could feel a change in the air. And even in the crisp and moist breeze, I could feel something transform. Turning the corner to the well, it felt otherworldly. The breeze suddenly just… stopped. The cold damp air suddenly felt, comfortable. And there, surrounded by trees and branches wrapped in ribbons of every color representing prayers, spells, wishes, and offerings; stood the well - as it had stood for centuries, covered in moist and vibrant moss. The water, pure and clean, flowed. And on the smooth and round rocks within the well, I could see shiny coins, and offerings to the Goddess/Saint. Visiting this holy place felt like such an honor. And as I walked away, having splashed my face with some of the holy water, I felt such a complete and utter sense of… you guessed it… serenity.
Last year, my hubby and I had the joy of visiting the Big Island of Hawaii. Our colleagues there spoiled us rotten and shuttled us around wherever we wanted to go. But one of our unexpected trips turned out to be one of our most memorable - the Valley of the Temples. Nestled away in the mountains, in between waterfalls galore, rests a memorial park focused on areas of different faiths, all congregating in the same place. Within the Valley of the Temples rests the Byodo-In Temple, a replica of an 11th century Buddhist Temple. And despite its relatively young existence, it feels like it has been there since the dawn of time. There, the air is still. There, troubles fade away. There, the coy remind you that no problem is too big a problem. There, the birds land right in the palm of your hand. There… you find serenity.
Whether you find your serenity in a particular place or in an action, finding one’s bliss can make all the difference in terms of recharging one’s drive, energy, inspiration, and sense of inner-peace.
Where do you find serenity?