Pockets of Peace

Today was treasure box restocking day.

This sounds close to ordinary, however it’s the right sized pocket of joy for practicing play therapists. My colleagues and I playfully ‘tried out’ the requested fidgets, add-ins for slime, and crisp dry erase markers. Our smiles stretch our cheeks, and our lungs reveled in the deep breathes that follow a spell of shooting the shit.
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I followed up this timestamp with a walk to the dumpster. I felt my shoulders instinctively rise in preparation for the cold to steal my breath. However, warmth tickled my face as the sun shone with pride that it had finally surpassed seventy degrees outside.

Cue the dramatic exhale and another stretch of the cheeks.

Some days my frown lines superseded my smile lines.

My millennial soul is tightly bound by armor at a feeble attempt of perceived safety against the universe’s punches. What will the day bring? More Tylenol conspiracies? A school shooting? A sprinkle of poor luck and bad timing?

Even the most seasoned chaos junkies have their limits.

I took the long way back from the dumpster. I tucked my phone away in my pocket, rolled my shoulders, and nodded my quiet thanks to the sun as I soaked in the warmth. I leaned into gratitude for this moment, as I have been cold for longer than I could remember.

While my toes have been chilly, as has my peace.

Everything feels heavy.
The news. Endless illness. Unanswered questions.
Friend’s untimely accidents. Family health concerns.
My work.

It’s an odd level of separation. A mix of suffering and personhood. Holding space with herculean effort then going home to convince a toddler to finish her dinner. My soul has adapted to this whiplash mostly. I would be a liar if there weren’t nights the horror of what others have experienced dance behind my eyes.

Life is hard and has plenty of cold spells.

That’s why it is imperative we notice any micro doses of peace.

Like moments of sunshine on a brief walk to the trash.
A hot shower with no deadline.
A breathless chuckle when your cat does something silly.
Emergency chocolate.

Micro doses of peace are our tethers to the promise of hope. When we are surrounded by macro grief, micro joys serve as a reminder that other experiences exist. Grief tricks our minds into believing in an endless forever. It makes our big feelings sticky and wears out our central nervous systems.

Micro joys are our radical rebellions.

Our grit and our ‘screw you’ when the universe plays its untimely tricks. While we may not have control over a moment, we have influence over our takeaways. This will all evolve into a memory someday. So today, instead of harboring the coldness of other’s chapters, the muck of bad luck, or the whose-its and what-its of what could have been different, I will pocket the warmth of the sunshine and the smile that stretched my cheeks with some beautiful colleagues.