Peace vs. Perfection

We experience numerous disappointments each and every day. Our expectations go unmet, our plans are blocked by circumstance, our wishes go unfulfilled, and we discover that our lives are subject to a myriad of forces beyond our conscious control. In some cases, our response is powerful because we must invest ourselves and our resources to overcome genuine hardship. In others, our reactions are far more passionate than our circumstances likely warrant. The tension that permeates our bodies and minds when we are late for an event, interrupted at work, or sitting in traffic is not inappropriate, but it can interfere with our well-being in profound ways. When we stop worrying about relatively unimportant matters, we can be at peace and devote so much more of ourselves to what is truly important. The small frustrations and irritations wield such power over us because they rob us of the illusion of control. But every problem is a potential teacher—a confusing situation is an opportunity to practice mindfulness, and difficult people provide us with opportunities to display compassion. There is a natural human tendency to invest copious amounts of emotional energy in minor dilemmas and frustrations in order to avoid confronting those more complex issues that are largely outside the realm of our control. The intensity of our response provides us with a temporary sense of personal power that helps us cope with challenges that might otherwise overwhelm us. But it is only when we let the little stuff go that we discover that the big stuff is not really so devastating after all.

In the stress of a singularly tense incident, differentiating between an inconsequential annoyance and a legitimate challenge can seem a monumental task. Ask yourself whether the emotions you are feeling will be as vivid in a year, a day, or even an hour. As focused as you are on this moment in time, your reward for letting go of your emotional investment may be the very happiness and harmony of being whose loss you are lamenting. Needless aggravation is seldom worth the cost it exacts. You cannot distance yourself from life's inconsistencies, irritations, and upheavals, but you can relinquish your desire for perfect order and gain peace of mind in the process.

Spirit Whispers

I BOUGHT A TIPI a few months ago—a big one—22ft in diameter with 30’ poles. I could tell you I bought it because I’ve always wanted one, or because I needed a place to put on the property for meditation, or for an escape. I could tell you I bought it because I thought it would make a good guest quarter, or a neat place to stay on a warm summer night. I could tell you a lot of things but the truth is I bought a tipi because one morning in mediation, I listened to a still small voice within and I followed it.

That voice led me to the top of a mountain on a road my 4x4 truck barely could manage and when there I saw a hillside filled with tipis and I felt my heart sing. I would then have to tell you about the feeling that came over me when I first pulled back the canvas door and stepped inside, but perhaps that feeling is best told in a quiet circle with a selected few…

I met two lovely people on the top of that mountain and witnessed a miracle that day that reminded me that dreams do come true, that life is worth living, and that there is still magic within those who dare to dream.

I bought a tipi. It sits, still, in the packing box it came in. I tried pulling it out once, with the help of a strong Native American man. With both of us we barely managed to get it out on the floor and were overwhelmed at the size of it. Both of us together could hardly open it so we decided to wait… wait until another day, when the time was right.



That was three months ago. I still touch it when I walk by the office… still look at the long poles stacked neatly beside the garden fence… still dream of hoisting it up one day and building a fire within… of making love in the firelight under a blanket of stars and of waking in the morning with sun’s light glowing through the canvas.

I bought a tipi. A big one. Big enough for family to stay over or for guests to enjoy. I drew a design to paint on it this spring. I gathered Red Tail Hawk feathers and owl, and raven for the top of the poles and for the inside. I have two rugs a friend loomed for me that will adorn the inside and I’m always on the look out for more. I have a hide, a big one, to lie on the floor for warmth and some Native art by a local artist.

When I listened to that voice inside that directed me to a mountain I previously didn’t know existed, I didn’t realize then, or even in the months that followed, that this tipi would actually be my home… now I do.



I bought a tipi one Sunday afternoon because I listened, and followed and in four months, when the spring flowers have bloomed and summer sun is knocking on spring’s door I will put my tipi upright between tall pine trees at the south garden gate and watch as the sun sets behind my other house… the one I hope to rebuild one day.

I bought a tipi. And I am glad.

© Cynthia Stewart