I have spent my life searching for anchorage, which is another way of saying, I've spent my life searching for peace. But despite everything we've been taught about intemperate consumerism, you can’t purchase peace. You also can’t eat, pray, love, medicalize, pop puss – or peen, or pills – catch pints or powerlift your way to psychic ataraxia. It’s just not possible. But we're a hopeful species, so we keep throwing every damn ting in our power at the problem.
Except, there is no problem.
You are not a problem in need of a solution. Your priest or psychotherapist cannot endow you with a sense of purpose (even though that’s what they're selling, implicitly or explicitly.) If you accept the fact that you are not a problem in need of a solution, even for a second, that, it seems to me, is the definition of peace.
Peace is the end product of purposiveness. It is not a nebulous concept coated in ten shades of deceitful doublespeak. Peace is the payoff, not the pursuit.
I hope you’re making time for revelry. I hope you’re making time for creativity and kickass jokes and silliness and sex and sweat and all manner of happy hot nonsense. And I hope you get to a point of peace.
Image by DIRIYE OSMAN and TOM HENSHER