Peace Essay #1

A few weeks ago I asked a few of my friends to write essays to answer the question: What does "peace" mean? Starting today we're going to publish one essay a week answering that question. If you would like to submit an essay, please contact us at oneminute@afsc.org for more information. Essays are the views of the author, who are free to disagree with AFSC.

This first essay was submitted by my friend Pamela (who also provided one of our first Peace Indicators):

Peace

I sat with this question of what peace means to me for a couple of days, testing whether what came to mind would hold true both for individuals and communities, for spiritual as well as temporal life. It was a good challenge, and here’s what I came up with as conditions for peace:

• Knowing that there are others who wish you well, that your life and well-being matter;
• Having some predictability in the larger environment; not being on edge about what might happen next, or at the mercy of forces that are too large to control and not at peace themselves;
• Have some reason to believe that your efforts will yield results;
• Having some confidence in your goodness—and the goodness of others;
• Not holding tightly to more than your share, or protecting yourself against those with less.

Since I’m suspicious of ideas and beliefs that aren’t rooted in practice, the next challenge was to consider how all this relates to my experience.

I thought immediately about all the attempts that people make to reach peace by eliminating or muting what seems to threaten it. So we have peace through drugs and numbness, peace by the iron fist, peace in a vacuum, ultimately peace through death. I know the attraction, but am looking for more.

I thought of the deeply conflict-averse family I was raised in, and what a struggle it has been to embrace conflict as survivable even, much less something that could bring growth. I’ve fought hard to understand the roots of anger and fear, and develop the skills and confidence to engage in and get to the bottom of conflict.

I thought about the appearance of peace—and all the rubber band wars, hand-made toy weapons, contact sports, and noise in our family over the years. I’m pleased with our focus on supporting our boys’ natural growth in goodness rather than setting up a hedge of prohibitions against anything that could be associated with the evils of violence.

I thought about the relative security that comes with being defended versus being connected. Our choice to live and raise a family in the city, rather than going for the more protected suburbs, has had its costs for sure. But it has given us access to many wonderful people whom others miss in their choice to put more resources into protection. Following that path to its ultimate end—the gated community—seems like a deeply misguided search for peace.

I thought of how deeply any true and lasting peace is intertwined with economic and political justice. I’ve looked for ways to lend my weight to those struggles, and fought for respectful peer connection with people who have less—and every step I’ve taken, every connection I’ve made, makes me feel more at home, more secure in this world.

I have to say that I also love quiet. I love the stillness of Quaker meeting. I am always striving to clear out the bustle and noise that keeps me from listening for and hearing what I’m called to. I love my early morning walks and time spent with the earth, yielding up beauty and bounty. But the peace I’m most excited about is lively and full of conflict, with all the risk, surprise, and joy that come with hard-won connection.