Published: October 14th 2025, 5:46:45 pm
🧘🏻♂️ The Quiet Beyond Comfort 🧘🏻♂️
I used to believe peace was a cousin of pleasure, that to be at peace meant to be comfortable.
Maybe it came after a good meal, a warm bed, or the satisfaction of knowing everything was in its right place.
I thought peace was the soft landing after effort, a moment earned once the body and mind finally settled into ease.
But during my last Vision Quest, I discovered something else entirely.
By the third day no food, no water, no company but my own thoughts comfort had long since disappeared.
Sweat mixed with layers of bug spray and dirt until it clung to my skin in a gritty film.
My body ached from sitting on the same patch of ground.
Hunger had become hollow and echoing not sharp but steady, a reminder of emptiness that couldn’t be filled.
The dryness in my mouth turned every swallow into effort.
The hours stretched thin, and even my restlessness grew weary of itself.
And yet, somewhere in that exhaustion, peace appeared.
Not as relief.
Not as reward.
But as a pulse beneath everything quiet, alive, and utterly unbothered by circumstance.
It wasn’t the kind of stillness that lulls you to sleep; it was the kind that wakes you up.
I realized peace isn’t tied to pleasure, nor does it depend on comfort.
It exists beyond both.
When the body surrenders and the mind runs out of arguments, what remains is awareness simple, steady, unshaken.
Peace doesn’t arrive after the storm; it hums within it.
It’s not the absence of movement but the recognition that even in stillness, life continues to breathe through you.
True peace isn’t something we find.
It’s what’s left when there’s nothing left to hold on to.