On the final day, I pushed myself out onto the water for one last kayak ride. The slight soreness of my shoulders, back, and forearms were a reminder of how much I’ve missed this. As I paddle out, each stroke gently guides me forward until I’ve reached my stopping point. My kayak rests in the middle of the pond, the sun peaks through the clouds, a slight breeze passes through me. I am at peace.
As my senses take in the nature around me, I feel nothing but calm. There is no fear, no worry, no distress, nothing but free. The paddle rests in front of me – I have no use for it at present, the wind is the only guide I need. As I slowly float throughout the pond, I notice the thoughts arising from nature. Fallen trees, lily pads, dragonflies, frog croaks, random crackling in the words, all of it pleasantly overwhelming.
Every so often, the current brings me to the end of the pond where lily pads and weeds consume the surface of the water. My movement stalls completely. There’s no rush to escape, to return to the cottage, so I sit in the weeds. There is a fascinating complexity within the veins of a lily pad. These white and yellow flowers (I call them fried egg flowers) find a way to bloom out here, their stems stretching impressive lengths to find the water’s surface. Various insects pass by, finding a moment of pause on the floating leaves, just like me.
My dad now prepares to fish. As he gathers his supplies and pulls his raft to the water’s edge, I decide it’s time to move. The weeds are dense, but I’ve grown confident in my ability to paddle my way out. I place the left end of the paddle into the water, engage my shoulder blade, tighten the muscles from my hand through my rear delt, and I pull. Then comes the same with my right side. Back and forth I intentionally place each end of the paddle into the weeds until my kayak is released from their grasp. I drift forward with ease.
After a quick snack, I pack my own supplies and place myself back in the kayak. I push off the beach and float out onto the water. Looking to my right, a dark cloud looms in the distance. I hear the rain gently pattering upon the edge of the pond. A choice needs to be made – go back to shore or risk being in the midst of the storm. There is no lightning, no thunder, and clear skies close behind the darkness, so I choose to paddle out. The storm is much faster than me, the drops turn my kayak a darker shade of green. A tree that grows over the water becomes my shelter. As the storm builds, I find the tree only blocks so much rain.
My dad’s voice echoes over the rain. He cries “This is awesome!”. A wild man. I need to know what this is all about. My clothes are already soaked through and the clouds are moving fast, so I leave my shelter and paddle out to him.
I’m met by the full force of the storm. I’ve never been here before. Another lure is cast, another fish is caught, and another expression of joy from my dad is vocalized. Only I and the secluded forest hear his happiness. We experience the storm in its entirety, loving every second of it, even cracking open another beer and cheersing our stupidity.
The ripples created by the rain slowly cease and the sun reemerges. The feeling of warmth upon my soaked skin is one I cannot express, but it will stay with me for the rest of my life.
This is everything. This is peace embodied. A few hours on that final day of vacation were all I needed to know peace more intimately.
Every Day Peace
Peace is not found only on a kayak, it can be found every day in every moment.
Much like going out on a kayak is a choice, so too is seeking peace. There are activities each of us can pursue that either bring peace or help us work towards it. There are also various activities that do the opposite. There’s no guarantee each activity you try will be as peaceful as kayaking is for me, so it’s important to keep your expectations and motives in mind.
The feeling of calm release that peace brings comes with the elimination of distress. Peace is, in a sense, a lack of feeling for me – there is no fear, worry, anxiety, or sadness, just being. To feel peace, I must allow Nature to guide me, to place me where I’m meant to be and show me what I need to see. There is no need for struggle. If I choose to go out on this kayak, the wind will direct me towards many beautiful sights and sounds, but it may also place me in the weeds of my own mind.
Even in the densest weeds, there is beauty to be seen. What can feel like a trap can be a place of resolve. Memories I once tried to forget, regrets with no resolution, mistakes made out of impulse, and all the thoughts I wish I didn’t have all come to the forefront of my mind. Instead of fleeing, I feel every emotion and think every thought. Hidden within them are lessons that deserve to be taught.
To be at peace is to have an inner confidence. It’s to realize all the tools you need are at your disposal. You do not push off the beach without a paddle. All the tools you need to go out into the world with this confidence are available to you, it simply takes discovering the proper resources for the task at hand. To seek peace is to seek your tools.
I’ve spent months developing my Peace Routine – a series of habits that ground me when the storms of my mind and body roll in. I’ve spent countless hours exploring diets, workout programs, stretching routines, and hobbies to find the ones that bring my focus back to the present moment. Stoicism, more specifically Discourses by Epictetus, has shown me where my impressions are flawed. All of the events outside of my control that left me feeling so much distress have become apparent and the impulses associated with those emotions became the focus of my attention.
All of these habits and hobbies I pursue aim to make my life more peaceful. My diet offers me the proper fuel to think and act properly. Exercise keeps my body strong and running smoothly instead of slowing me down. Philosophy stirs my creativity and reminds me to focus on my impressions and controlling my impulses. Staying in to meal prep, stretch, and sit in the quiet gives me the space I need to reflect on what I felt throughout the day and see where adjustment may be necessary. Writing offers me time to slow down and express my subjectivity in a new form. Painting allows me to put the beauty I see in the world onto paper.
Slowly, I pursue more of what calms me and less of what stirs my distress.
I’ve done the opposite for so long – alcohol led to sluggishness and low energy, when I skipped the gym I’d be angry at myself for my laziness, my thoughts and actions at work went unchecked and I felt frustrated, stressed, and exhausted, I spent most nights scrolling socials for hours and I was so inundated with other people’s thoughts that I couldn’t hear my own. Everything caused distress to some extent until I decided I wanted to take back control. As I freed myself from all my vices, started showing myself love by taking care of myself and listening to my emotions, and began analyzing my impressions, peace became more frequent.
Distress still pops up on a daily basis, but when it does, I know there is something I need to look into. Whether it be adjusting my habits or taking some time to hear what my body and mind are trying to tell me, distress has some cause and it’s my job to find it and bring myself closer to peace.
Every day, I work towards sharpening my skills and adjusting according to what feels right. I’ve found many tools to help pull me out of the weeds, so now I can choose to explore them without fear of being stuck in them. My confidence in what I can handle has increased significantly, so when a storm rolls in, I can sit in it and feel the euphoria when the sun comes back out. There are also storms I know are too dangerous to paddle into, so I paddle to safety and let them pass.
Peace is not easily described. I don’t think it needs to be. Peace is meant to be felt. This blog, this metaphor is only words and it won’t hit home for you in the same way it does for me. It doesn’t have to. This blog is meant to show you what’s possible and to encourage you to seek your own metaphor for peace.
It is within your power to feel peace and I truly hope that one day you do. Find your kayak, find your paddle, and let the wind guide you. Never fear the weeds and know that every storm will eventually pass.
August 30, 2026
