A Promise for Peace

Following two years of futile attempts to climb a hill with bloody hands and broken feet, I realized I was staring at a frigid, breathless mountaintop, meanwhile walking past countless meadows and shades of green blowing in the calm wind beside me. The common path of dirt and stomped grass leads straight with no spots to rest beneath the berry bushes gifted alongside the walk. If anything, thousands sprint so fast to be able to say, “I’m at the top!” they forgot to smell the sweet air before reaching an oxygen-deprived atmosphere. New Years reinforces that we get new shoes, get our hands dirty, and get ready to climb; this year I choose to walk barefoot among the earth, wash my hands in the streams, and sit down to feel the sun on my face.

This year, I promise to slow down on the breath out, and remain still with the breath in. A truth I came to know in the many late nights circling the sun, it's in both the unconscious breath and my act of breathing that I find the balance of myself with life existing as one. Cold winter mornings, the air tickles my nose; fresh spring days the air is softer and filled with floral whispers; in the high sun of the summer the air is dense, but a fresh gust of wind brings a moment of rest; the crisp air of autumn though cool feels warm to my soul. On the days my heart is racing because life is full of changes, I have the constant of my breathing to bring me to stillness. If I have my breath, I have all I need.

This year, I promise to check into existence throughout the day, breaking the autopilot wired paths built by a hustle-culture that forgot self-care comes first. Our narrow, mountaintop-striving minds bend every moment I check in with my breath, feel my body, and put my full awareness into both action and acceptance of the present moment. To feel the sensations of existence at the smallest levels of movement and sound, I surrender my illusions of control and move with life in a way it wants to rise. I am a medium through which mother nature creates, my society taught me otherwise.

This year, I promise to love the earth like she is my mother. My breath is her, and my fruit is her, and my being is only brought to life through her. At a bare minimum, I owe her my effort to slow down, walk more, eat local, and purchase less. Plant a garden, repurpose old treasures, bring reusable containers. Turn scraps to compost, buy second-hand, line-dry my laundry. We work together and exist as one. She gives me all she has; I am all she is.

This year, I promise to tell my loved ones I love them every day once a day, twice a day, too many times a day is not too many when you realize any minute may become a moment you remember as the last. Tell them you love them today, and every day.

This year, I promise to listen to my intuition like a melody tuned specifically for me. To touch the truths at the root of my being, I must quiet my mind to hear the frequency of life flowing around, within, and through me. She speaks when I surrender and only then may I differentiate the voice of anxiety from the voice within me. I hear cues and receive courage as the unmoved observer, rather than chaos and crying from feeding the fire.

This year, I promise to care for the parts of my soul that I put on hold for years too many. My tears will be met with stillness, my needs will be addressed with assertion, and my boundaries will not bend for energies unwilling to respect me. My mornings shall start with meditation and affirmations, a bottle of water and a nourishing breakfast. My days filled with movement and laughter, rest and awareness, hugs, and healing. My nights unplugged with candlelight and mugs of tea, I write to reflect on gratitude and life philosophies. This year I come to understand that I am my priority, and the rest of the world can wait. This year, peace comes first.