The Peace That Is Always Inside
Connecting with the silence, stillness, and space within
The alarm sounds, rattling you awake. You squint in the darkness to get your bearings. Anxiety grinds in your belly. You haven’t even rolled out of bed yet, and it’s still hard to catch your breath.
Then, your thoughts begin to spin and whirl.
A family member is in the hospital waiting for test results. The kids have to be at school in less than an hour. Multiple projects are due at the office, and there is more work than there is time to do it.
It’s only Monday, and the whole week is still ahead.
You feel worried, disconnected, and alone. You ask yourself, “How am I going to get through?”
Like a raging river, life rushes forward in perpetual movement.
I’ve learned that we can’t predict its dips, turns, and rocks and can’t stop or slow its relentless flow.
When I find myself thrashing about in the overwhelming currents, I first have to get quiet and allow my system to regulate. It’s only in tranquility that insight can rise to the surface.
Sometimes, I have to close my eyes, hold on tight, and let the rapids pass. Other times, I have to paddle furiously before I arrive at calm waters.
Navigating years of acute anxiety, I’ve discovered two approaches that have helped me to reach the estuary of awareness and understanding, the place where I merge with the peace of my true nature.
To help me settle, I practice the “5–4–3–2–1” grounding technique. This practice helps me to shift focus from racing thoughts, engage my senses, and bring awareness to the present moment.
Here’s how it works:
Acknowledge five things I can see. These could be objects in the room, colors, shapes, or patterns. I look at each one, noticing their details and taking them into awareness fully.
Acknowledge four things I can feel. I shift attention to my sense of touch and notice four things I can feel physically. These could include the texture of my clothes, the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, or the temperature of the air.
Acknowledge three things I can hear. I tune in to my sense of hearing and identify three sounds in my environment. They could be the sounds of traffic outside, birds chirping, or the hum of appliances.
Acknowledge two things I can smell. I bring awareness to my olfactory sense and notice two things I can smell. These could be the scent of flowers, food cooking nearby, or any other aromas in my surroundings.
Acknowledge one thing I can taste. Finally, I focus on my tongue and identify one thing I can taste. If I have nothing to taste nearby, I focus on the sensations within my mouth.
The key is to slow down and place attention on direct experience. By engaging all five senses, this grounding exercise anchors me in the present moment and shifts focus away from anxious thinking.
Once I’ve brought my attention to the present moment and my system is calm enough for clarity, I search for the silence, stillness, and space within.
I become aware that any sound I hear appears within a background of silence. The silence is present, both in the absence and in the midst of noise. It’s like when a meditation bell fills the room with resonance and fades into quiet. There is a palpable silence before, during, and after the sound — always present, always clear, always welcoming whatever arises and letting it go.
Then, I become aware of stillness. I notice the movements within and all around me and how they all take place within an effortless field of stillness. It reminds me of images in motion on a movie screen. Whether the scene is frantic or serene, the screen stays still, whole, and composed, simply being the space for the movie to unfold.
It’s the same with space. Every object in my field of vision arises within and is surrounded by empty space. Like the open sky, remaining free and unaffected during storms and sunshine, the space of awareness accepts and holds experience with effortless grace and ease.
Thoughts and sense perceptions come and go, but silence, stillness, and space abide. These qualities are ever-present, whether prominent in awareness or sensed in the background. They are not just passing perceptions but a natural part of who and what we are.
In present-moment awareness, we don’t have to search for peace outside of ourselves, grasping at or avoiding other people, situations, or circumstances. Instead, we can recognize peace as an aspect of our nature.
This is not to say, we don’t take the next practical step to make things better or use whatever resources we have at hand to find solutions. The point is that lasting peace is never found outside of ourselves.
People, situations, and circumstances, like surging rivers, are in continuous flux. The only constants in our experience are being, the awareness of being, and the deep peace under the surface of things.
This peace within not only helps us regulate our emotions and regain perspective but also is the silent thread connecting us with others and the world.
When we encounter one another, we can recognize that the peace within you is also the peace within me. Just as the air filling our separate homes is the same air, the peace filling our apparently separate human forms is the same peace. It only seems to be different or divided by our bodies.
The invitation is to become aware of the peace that is always here at the center of us and all that is and to place attention on it. We start with awareness of our sense perceptions and thinking, then go deeper into the silence, space, and stillness at the heart of experience.
This recognition of peace as our essential nature is our birthright, revealing the clarity, connection, and love that have been here waiting for us all along.
