Peace, like Charity, begins at home.
Today is the International Day of Peace. It is tempting to think of peace as something that belongs to the big world outside us, something negotiated across conference tables, signed on pieces of paper, or announced when armies finally put down their weapons. There is another kind of peace. A much quieter one. The peace between two people who have stopped talking, or between a parent and a child who have misunderstood each other years ago. The peace between old friends who once meant everything to each other. And sometimes, the most difficult peace of all: The peace between us and within ourselves. The United Nations established the International Day of Peace in 1981. In 2001, September 21 was permanently designated as a day of non-violence and ceasefire. I find something rather beautiful about the idea. Because a ceasefire doesn't necessarily mean that everything has been solved. It simply means that, for a moment, we stopped fighting. Perhaps that is where some of our relationships need to begin. Who are you still fighting with? Think of one person with whom you are at odds. Don't worry about whether you are right. Just bring their face to mind. Now ask yourself something a little more difficult: What is the real reason we are fighting? Sometimes it isn't the argument we remember. Perhaps it is money, or pride, or an old disappointment. You may feel they don’t appreciate you, or they are taking too much from you. They may have changed, and you haven't quite accepted it. Or perhaps they remind you of something about yourself that you don't particularly like. We call something a disagreement when, underneath it, there is hurt. We may also call it anger when it is actually disappointment. Or we call it stubbornness when what we are really protecting is our pride. And sometimes two people keep trying to win an argument long after they have forgotten what they wanted to win. That is where peace becomes interesting. Because making peace with someone does not necessarily mean agreeing with them. It doesn’t mean accepting everything they have done, or allowing someone to continually hurt you. And it certainly doesn't mean that every relationship must be repaired. It may simply mean understanding what is happening inside you well enough that the other person no longer occupies so much space in your mind. Perhaps peace begins there. There is an old idea, found in different forms across philosophy and spiritual traditions: We cannot always control what another person does, but we can examine the part we ourselves are carrying. That may be the harder work. What am I expecting from this person? What am I unable to forgive? What am I still trying to prove? What would happen if I stopped needing them to admit that I was right? And maybe the more uncomfortable question is: What part of this conflict belongs to me? You may discover that the answer is very small, or surprisingly large. Either way, knowing it can be freeing. The remarkable thing about peace is that it doesn't always require two people to sit down together. Sometimes it begins with one person becoming a little less angry, less defensive, and more understanding. Sometimes the first peace treaty is an internal one. I guess that is why being at peace with someone can feel strangely like being more at peace with yourself. So, maybe for today, see who comes to mind, while reading this. Don't rush to contact them. Don't force a reconciliation. Just notice them, notice what you feel, notice what the conflict has been costing you. Maybe, you’ll figure out that it is you that will gain the most from the resolution. Until tomorrow, Bob.
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