This Sunday morning I walked outside into the fields of St. Benedict’s monastery, where we spend a long weekend on a writing retreat. The winter air was crisp and clear and the icy snow under my feet squeeked with every step. Baby Hannah, double wrapped in thick woolen blankets in her stroller, was enjoying some sun beams falling on her face. It was an ordinary winter morning in what the church calls “ordinary time”, the time which spans from Epiphany to Lent. It was cold as usual in Minnesota, the fields were packed in snow as usual. There was probably nothing special about this Sunday morning in the depth of Minnesota winter, as there lay many cold Sunday mornings already behind us and many more to come. Still, braving the cold and just walking right into it, opened a surprising space of calm for us. No one was out there, just us, and birds singing and a wood pecker pecking.

I do enjoy these quiet times with my baby daughter. I watch her watch the world around her, trying to imagine how we once were, when our brains were not filled yet with a multitude of things or concerns or schedules. Just like a little child open to the world, taking in what she sees. It isn’t that our weekend was all that peaceful or a perfect family idyll. In fact, we walked through nursing difficulties, a sleepless night and tensions between parents boiling over. But then the baby came back to nursing and we somehow made it through the storm together. My husband enjoyed morning prayer and breakfast with the sisters while I was still enjoying some time with our child under warm sheets.

Have you ever been in the eye of a storm? A storm of your own making? I have.

Many times. In fact, I think I am a storm maker. I guess, every parent has some things one does not want the child to learn. Mine would be storm making. Though there are good storms. Needed storms. Snow storms. Rain storms. Storms which clean the air and, just as a snow storm in Minnesota, cover the old grey with a new layer of snow white, dampening the noise and leaving freshness and calm behind. Only when we are at the eye of the storm, be it a rain storm in Florida or a snow storm in Minnesota, or the storm raging within, we are in danger. Our emotions are flying around like leaves in the wind, we cannot even see our hand in front of our face. At the center of the storm we do not know ourselves anymore, and are afraid it will never end.

Do not loose courage.

All storms eventually pass, our inner storms, too, will pass. There might be damage in the wake of it in need of repair, snow to shovel, roads to fill in, even bridges to repair.

But there will be a calm morning after the storm waiting for you. Sometimes it is just a step away. Like finding the beauty of an ordinary winter morning requires us to bundle up and take courage to brave the cold outside, we need to get ready in ourselves, to open a new door and expand our view.

Like the winter landscape quietly unfolding in front of us, and the cold wind refreshing our winter dry skin, we can see further than we can in the eye of the storm. In fact, we can see to the horizon, which paints a picture of beauty in front of us. We suddenly realize the beauty in the ordinary in a way we have not seen before. Our ears hear the noises of nature, like a well orchestrated symphony, and our weary heart relaxes into the calm.

But sometimes the end of the storm does not come that easily. Then there is no pristine winter morning after the snow storm. We might have gotten too close to the eye of the storm and been injured by its powers, or we feel lost in its dark epicenter. Or we are like storm chasers, attracted by the vitality a storm is unleashing, getting too close to its fire in the end. Some even want to stay in the storm, to keep the rage going, afraid to experience the new calm at the other side.

What ever it is for you in your inner landscape, most often peace awaits you just some steps away. You can slow down, get into a safe distance from the eye of the storm, find a solitary place where the storm is not raging or has calmed down already. Stepping out of one room of our inner home into a quiet courtyard, garden or field is almost always possible. In fact I have practiced this often in my clinical practice with clients, helping them create an inner space of calm to which they can escape when the storms of their life threaten to overcome them. Working with the power of our imagination is not exclusive to clinical practice, in fact it is much older and has been known by mystics and religious and shamans and wisdom seekers since the beginning. And we have introduced you to some of these practices throughout our 12 Days of Christmas Journey.

If possible we can just step out into the nature which surrounds us where ever we are to find some change of perspective and calm. We also can create a space of inner calm by imagining a welcoming place, where we have experienced peace before. If you do not remember such place you can even just create it in your inner being.

Finding your place of peace

For doing so you might want to close your eyes and calm your breathing. Feeling your feet on the floor and your arms resting on the arm rest you can create a sense of grounding. Now you can search for your place of peace. What comes first to mind? A place you already know? An old church you have visited? A court yard garden with a fountain in the middle may be? Or a hiking path somewhere in the woods? What ever it is, if it feels right for you stay with it, welcome the place and start to walk in it. You can change your place of peace with the help of your imagination at any time. In fact you can create it so it feels just right for you. Are there walls or a fence surrounding the place? Is there nature, flowers, gardens, a tree near by? What noises can you hear and what sensations can you feel? A fresh breeze on your face? Birds singing? The sound of leafs in the wind? Stay with it. Listen to it, feel it on your skin. All these sensations help you anchor the place in your heart so you can come back to it.

Now is there a special place for you in your image of peace? A chair at a table, a bench under the tree, a blanket on the grass? What place would suit you? Or might it be the movement of an imaginative hike through the woods or a open path on the prairie which feels like peace to you? And now, if you come closer to this inner or outer place of peace, and if you feel present to the unfolding moment, is there an element of transcendence greeting you from within? Like the tender breeze on your skin, a blue sky, the graciousness of an old tree offering shelter? Sit there on your special place for a while and take in the greeting of Divine peace sheltering you. Be present. Breath quietly. Feel and listen and taste. Ingrain each element of the place in your heart’s memory. When you leave the place turn back one last time to look. Make a picture in your imagination. Give the place a name if you will. As this place has offered a warm welcome to you, welcome it in your heart, too.

And come back to it when ever you need it.

Blessing

May peace be with you in the unfolding of a new week.
may peace find you in the middle of your storm
may peace welcome you at the other side of your dark
may peace calm you when your heart is weary
may peace bring you a greeting from wisdom beyond:

You are my beloved. Do not be afraid.