I’m not at all a Seinfeld fan, and this is really the only line I cite from that series. As a drug and alcohol counselor with homeless addicts, I talk a lot with my clients about serenity and what it means for them and their recovery. Many of them live in the streets, of course, and so finding peace at all is near impossible.
But is serenity the same as peace? I don’t think it is. How are they different? These are actually questions I think over quite frequently, usually over a cup of chicory coffee. (See earlier blog: The Bottomless Cup)
I know that I’ve experienced serenity, but I can’t pinpoint the moment that it first came, as I got older, I suppose. I don’t know if I feel it all the time. In fact, I know that I don’t.
I wonder if serenity if that feeling I get when I realize that everything I could possibly want, I have. Interestingly enough, now that I reflect on it, I have frequently had the feeling on the road. In the “Ugly American” post, I referred to a conversation I had with a gentleman outside of a church. After he and I finished our conversation, I went over to the church to peek inside. It was Sunday morning and the bells were ringing. They were ringing because the priest was standing there pulling the rope! He had such a large smile and he said (between pulls) “Come on in, take a look around!” He could see the pack on my back; I was clearly a traveler, but he was still so welcoming. I stayed for most of the service then I left to wander around the park the church was sitting in. It was a beautiful park, flowers fully open, the breeze off the river brushing my hair off the back of my neck. It was so fulfilling, words can’t do it justice.
Have you ever felt that, dear reader?
