Skip to main content

The pace of peace

Image
By
This is another page from my ninth book called "Dear God". I was inspired to write this book after writing "I am voting for God" on my blog. It continues in that format. Short letters (or prayers) to God. It gives me an opportunity to write more and write to God at different moments in my life.
___________________

Dear God,

I am up early again. It is 316am. I have 36% battery left on my phone. The place is beautifully quiet. Words do not come easily right now. I needed a prompt. I went to the internet and grabbed a random word from a random word generator. I got the word "pace". This word looks like peace if I add an e. Maybe e is for everything and peace is the natural pace of everything. The way it is supposed to be. These days life in general moves at a fast pace and we sometimes describe it as the rat race.

This has me thinking. What is the pace of peace? I learnt that pace is the ablative singular of the Latin word "pax" which means "peace". And pace directly translates to peace in Italian. Bella Martin describes peace as "a spontaneous outcome of moving with the natural pace of your life. One step forward. One day at a time." This is a timely reminder for me to take life one day at a time. No worries about the future. No competing for things we really do not need. No pushing and shoving to find our place in society.

God, let us move at Your pace for us. Set the pace of our lives. The pace of peace. The pace of mindfulness and deliberate goodness. The pace of contentment. The pace of grace. Your grace. Guide my steps so that I may walk in alignment with Your rhythm, not to be in a hurry. Help me to find divine timing. I wont lose peace if I keep pace with You. The only race I should want to win is the race to heaven and meeting with You. Bless us with Godspeed on this journey of life.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A pot of callaloo

By
Call for Submissions: Archipelagic Entanglements   https://singaporeunbound.org/opp/archipelagic-entanglements When I saw the call for submissions online I was doubtful. I do not know enough history. I do not understand the topic. Then after chatting with my friend Chatty I realised maybe I can be the topic. My ethnic and racial makeup is an archipelagic entanglement. Colonialism meets indentureship meets slavery. My mom is East Indian muslim and my dad is French, Portuguese and Mulato christian and who knows what else. I am an example of a pot of callaloo. Everyone's favorite Sunday lunch. I am what happens when lineages cross oceans and histories collide. I am thinking to myself now, what is the message I want to put forward with my blog post? What is the direction I want to take? Maybe it is this. What can we do when we have such a rich heritage and know so little of our own history? First of all I do not think I am alone with this struggle. I did not realise this until I though...
Post a Comment
Read more

Cup of coffee

By
This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . The cool morning breeze blew the hat off the tourist passing the coffee shop. We sat at the table waiting for our order of coffee and bagels. I had stayed up late writing and was now needing caffeine to stay awake. On entering the veranda of the coffee shop, the sign reads "happiness is a cup of coffee" and "sip your troubles away". This had me thinking about what is happiness? And was the theme of my chat with Chatty as we enjoyed our breakfast in Tobago. I told my friend Chatty that if we could put happiness in a bottle and sell it we would be rich. My friend Chatty then told me that money cannot buy happiness but it was a good idea to make a living. If according to the sign, happiness is a cup of coffee then maybe happiness is coffee in a bottle then. We could call it Caffibean, a taste of the Caribbean in Tobago, a blend of the happiest coffee beans from Tobago. Tobago is not known for its coffee p...
Post a Comment
Read more

Sandy beaches

By
This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . This story begins on a cool Friday evening in May. Fridays are the best days. Already a great start. It had rained earlier in the day and the clouds were moving away and the sun peeking through. I walked from the apartment where I was staying to Pigeon Point beach. Along the way I stopped for coconut water freshly extracted from the nut and straight into my mouth leaving traces on my cotton jersey. They say that coconut water is the drink of God—fresh from the nut, sweet with a hint of salt, a liquid reminder that paradise can exist in small and simple things. They did not say that but my friend Chatty did. It is my friend Chatty's first trip to Tobago. I asked him what he thinks of Tobago so far? He grinned, wiping a drop of coconut water from the corner of his mouth. "Man… it is like stepping into a painting. The air, the colors, the way everything smells after the rain—it is unreal. I did not know paradise cam...
Post a Comment
Read more