“There are moments when all anxiety and stated toil are becalmed in the infinite leisure and repose of nature.” -Thoreau

And to the subject of peace. What brings you closer? Often times, this question provokes a perplexing and often impossible response.

It’s funny, we seem to spend a disproportionally large portion of our lives chasing happiness- and happiness in principle is a great thing- but I rather think that the chase is as elusive and stupid as searching for a unicorn wearing blue suede shoes. I’m no guru, but it would seem that shifting our focus towards cultivating peace would do ourselves a whole lotta good- primarily because peace is more a state of mind that can be called upon even when you find yourself awash in a torrent of flux, change, or adversity.

I’d say that a bunch of people in capital city, Massachusetts could sure use some peace right now.

I think that peace holds greater value because it has a way of grounding you and pressing your life’s pause button. And it often comes along when you don’t see it coming- almost as if stillness has snuck up from behind and tapped you on the shoulder. Finding a little quiet within yourself is an incredibly priceless thing.

I wanted to talk about peace, primarily because I have recently been hit over the head once again by the experience. The topic is also compelling because I feel like it has become an endangered state of existence- especially when we lose our focus. In this day and age of constant technological updating, life out of focus seems to be occurring with increased frequency. At least that has been my personal experience.

My recent journey to the northern coast of my favorite island just so happened to come served up with a slice of unanticipated peace. An all day drive through rain and mind-boggling traffic jams saw us negotiating a cloud cover that ultimately delivered us into surprising sunshine. We were handed an end of day that left my travel companion and I eager to capitalize on this fortunate turn of elements. Rather than collapsing into our lodging for the evening, we pressed on further northward, and headed straight for the endpoint of the country’s jagged coast: the Giant’s Causeway.

After negotiating our way through a titanic visitor’s center (another eyesore courtesy of UNESCO), we eschewed the complimentary headsets and made our way to the main event. As travelers, we have little interest in historical reference or mythological foundation right now. We’re selfishly ignorant. We just want to get to the ocean.

We take our own path- no map in hand- for we know that where we want to go is already at our feet. We walk. We give zero consideration to the tourist bus that ferries the lazy and infirm down to this locale’s tourist sweet spot. For us, we shall walk. We clop down the incline and watch as the landscape unfolds with steady reassurance that this was indeed a good idea. Probably the best idea that we’ve had in ages.

After a solid day of motorized traffic, our footsteps are damn near the only thing that can be heard. The windbush, an intransigent pest that triumphs over all horticulture in Northern Ireland, serves as our buffer zone between the quick drop down and the innocent roadside. Good thing it’s there, because we are hardly focused on anything in our footpath as we only gaze forward.

The ocean now, it is painted brightly as a perk of this blue-sky gift that offers up uncharacteristic grandeur. We take in our surroundings, but there is something else that makes us stop in our tracks. We listen.

We both hear it. This new soundtrack has a paradoxically forceful way of gently shutting everything down in my mind. It is only the ocean’s roar- a phenomenon that will continue in perpetuity, regardless of whether we continue to stand here as mute and grateful witnesses. The ocean is a force for hypnotic good. A force as much for peace as it is for violence, and I for these brief couple of moments, am spellbound.

I always remember how in my younger years I would return to the ocean whenever I felt that things were not quite right within. There is something so therapeutic about occupying a modest patch of sand and staring out into the waves and boundless horizon for an undetermined amount of time. And I know that I’m not the only person who feels this way.

Back on the Cape, you drive out to Chappy at any time of the year and you will see all make, year, and model of vehicle as the town’s occupants flock to witness the ocean at sunset. There’s magic in the sea, and the masterful way that it can transmit peace and stillness over the human mind cannot be discounted.

So we all can carry on with our ridiculous quest for happiness. Again, I don’t know what all of that is about, and truthfully, I kind of hate being asked the question, “Are you happy?” I prefer to rest upon what I know to be valid and obtainable- and for me that is knowing where to find my peace. Particularly when my brain is begging to be placed in standby mode for at least a short space of time.