Peace Is Something I Have to Stop Leaving

Last Updated on May 31, 2026

My peace can sometimes feel like something that is out there that I have to go find.

Maybe I have to hike up the hill? I wonder if a better view will help me find peace? Some days I need to drive myself to the ocean. Will I find my peace walking along the edges of waves or maybe I need to get in and try to be one with the ocean?

I am often searching for connections to the land, the water, the sky… I long for the feeling of being connected with the earth. I long for the lightness and weightlessness of the water supporting me. I long to feel the pull of the tides and some sense of alignment with the planets and stars.

There is something about being outside in the elements that reminds me of who I am. Ironically, I come back to the knowing that I do not need to long for that which is truly happening all the time. I remember. The elements help me remember.

The peace I experience there feels ancient and familiar. It feels like being woven back into the network of life. It feels like coming home.

Even the longing and deep craving for peace is part of the process of remembering and embodying that peace.

What feels challenging is that I often act as though I have to earn it.

I tell myself I need to finish my responsibilities first. Complete my work. Answer the emails. Meet the deadline. Be productive enough. Then, at the end of the day, I can have my peace.

As though peace is a prize, a treat, or a bonus. As though it is something waiting for me at the finish line if I have been good enough.

I don’t like that.

I don’t want peace to be a reward for productivity. I don’t want it to be something I squeeze into the leftover spaces after everything else is done.

I want it to be part of my life because it matters, even when I feel at odds with that desire.

I don’t want to feel irresponsible for putting my well-being first. I don’t want to feel guilty for being outside, moving my body, feeling the wind, sitting by the water, or taking the time I need to feel grounded and connected.

At the same time, I care deeply about keeping my word.

For much of my life, being a good person has been tied to being dependable. Doing what I said I would do. Meeting expectations. Accomplishing things. Being productive. Supporting people. Delivering what others need from me.

There are many people who don’t currently have the flexibility and choices that I have. Being able to walk by the ocean on a weekday morning can be considered a privilege. Sometimes I wonder if I’m asking for too much by desiring to be peaceful, creative, responsible, productive, and in integrity all at the same time.

Maybe that’s unrealistic. But I don’t think what I’m longing for is the absence of responsibility. I think I’m longing for a different relationship with it.

Because having more freedom doesn’t automatically mean knowing how to care for myself. It doesn’t automatically mean knowing how to rest. It doesn’t automatically mean knowing how to prioritize peace.

The habits that tell me to earn my worth through productivity follow me wherever I go. My life has never fit neatly into a schedule. I’m not a machine.

I can’t accurately predict how much energy or creativity I’ll have next week. I can’t predict what emotional, personal, or spiritual experiences might arise and ask for my attention. I can’t always know how long something will take or how much rest I will need afterward.

Trying to estimate my future capacity feels like rolling the dice and gambling with my integrity. 

I’ve learned a lot over the years. I have a better sense of how long things take than I used to. But life is still in motion. Things happen. Feelings happen. Grief happens. Joy happens. Healing happens. Everything is in flux.

I realize that the peace I long for isn’t actually out there. The ocean, the hills, the trees, and the sky help me remember it. The water, the wind, and the birds help bring me back, over and over.

But the peace itself isn’t somewhere else waiting for me. It lives inside me. Sometimes I forget that.

Sometimes I imagine that if I can just get to the right place, finish the right project, solve the right problem, or clear enough items off my to-do list, then peace will finally arrive.

But peace isn’t arriving from somewhere else. It’s already here.

My real work is remembering, breathing, and taking care of my body. Making choices that support the state I want to live in. Tending the peace that already exists within me.

This may be the work of my lifetime. Not changing myself so that I can finally be worthy of love. Not accomplishing enough so that I can finally deserve peace. Not becoming someone else. But allowing the love and peace that are already here to rise to the forefront of my awareness.

Not for anyone else’s benefit. Not because I should. Not because it makes me a better person. Simply because this is how I want to exist at this time in this body.

I’m trying to learn how to be responsible without abandoning myself. I want to care for myself and be of service to others. I want to create meaningful work in the world without sacrificing my well-being. I want peace to be part of the path, not something waiting for me at the finish line.

Peace is not something I have to find. Peace is something I have to stop leaving.

It’s a journey. I’m practicing it all the time. Trying to be a little better each day.

“Doing the best I can. That’s all I can do.”

Thanks, Mom, for that wise orientation to life.