From Poetry to Peace

If you read the poems in my last post, you probably gathered that I've been on a quest for peace. I've searched in all the places I usually find peace: in the scriptures, at the temple, through chocolate and in many books. But peace has still eluded me. Finally I remembered some wise counsel given by our Stake Presidency a few years ago. They shared six daily actions to find peace.

6 P's of Personal Peace

1. Prayer - meaningful pleading prayer
2. Page - at least a page of scripture study
3. Ponder - reflection on the atonement and blessings
4. Praise - genuine expression of appreciation
5. Play - take time to enjoy life, non-persuasive family fun
6. Purity - fill your mind with edifying thoughts and music

Pretty good advice, don't you think?

As I looked over this list, I realized that I actually was doing most of these on a daily basis. I could pat myself on the back, except that I STILL wasn't finding peace.

So I decided to step things up. I started a new Book of Mormon reading plan that's been pretty challenging for me. I highly recommend it if you need a spiritual boost!

I also realized that "Play" is my weakest area. But how was I going to find more time to play?? I couldn't come up with a solution, but fortunately Heavenly Father did! My next post will be all about play.


In the meantime I'd love to hear what brings you peace!

Emily Understands

Yes, I know I haven't posted in WAAAAY too long.

What's my excuse? Well I won't go into details, but let's just say my friend Emily understands just how I've been feeling. In fact she understands so well that she wrote about it. I think she says it better than I can!

Here's what she has to say about peace, or more specifically the search for peace:

I many times thought Peace had come

When Peace was far away—

As Wrecked Men— deem they sight the Land—

At Centre of the Sea—

And struggle slacker— but to prove

As hopelessly as I—

How many the fictitious Shores—

Before the Harbor lie—

Emily really understands suffering and knowing that you should feel better because of the Savior, but still you're not quiet there--not quite over it.

After great pain a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

And just so you know I haven't gone off the deep end with depression, Emily also understands the hope I am feeling and how gently it came into my heart to rest.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune--without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson