Where, alas, do we go for relief from the world? Where do we go for a friendly horizon, where bad news vanishes, egos and conceits retreat, sea and sky mysteriously – but reliably– meet? Where can you say a prayer – and are there?
Where do we go to restart the imagination, give wing to wonder, invite lightning and thunder? How do we reignite your ferocity, relight your curiosity?
The question may seem childish or irrelevant, what with all the important things we have afoot, but it is not, and never will be. It is about making the most of each day, remembering how to live with peace in a world that devalues it.
So, how do we find relief? It might be recalling a special place, born of looking away, out a window, over a crowd, finding something forgotten, unheard since un-loud – that takes us back to where goodness lives.
For some, it may be recalling a Bible verse, The Beatitudes, or John 3:16, something as full of hope as life seems mean. Maybe it is just a childhood play, thoughts of laughter on a holiday, comforting habits as seasons change, putting in wood, an old sound or smell, that fresh-baked bread or peeling bell.
For others, it will be a place travelled, people met, the gentle rock of a boat, or the rub of a pet. But there is this place, and we all have it. We must never lose it, and when it seems to be drifting away, we must pull it back. We find it when we pause, forget the grind, do not allow worries and regrets to abide, open the heart, and look inside.
What do you mean? I can hear you asking. How can we revisit what is gone, find peace that flees our search, escape troubles that cleave like a shadow to our soul, and become young when we are old? Ah, but here it is: We find what we look for.
Here is the answer, like pulling a shoebox of letters, bound in ribbon, from the closet’s top shelf, or a pair of well-worn boots or dancing shoes from its depths. We find relief from what ails and wearies us if we resolve to be light, not too serious.
To understand the escape of a good book, you take each page in turn, go back as you like, laugh, linger, and hover. But to get to the joy, you must break the cover.
Many years ago at Oxford, there was a river walk, a path, a place where, when stress mounted, I took a run or, on lazier days, a stroll, unhurried on purpose, beauty around me, nothing to do but muse. Funny, it was called “Addison’s Walk.”
The old fellow Addison was dead, but his path remained; the place he wandered to think was still there. His name was Joseph Addison – an English diplomat and writer, and he knew how to find peace in beauty. He wrote: “There is nothing that makes its way more directly to the soul as beauty.” He was, of course, right.
And his truth remains. A great place to look for peace when knuckleheads and “nattering nabobs of negativism” get you is in memories, nature, and a good walk, maybe along a quiet river, under the sun, or in the woods – it works for everyone.
Where do you go for relief from the crazy world, to find that happy nook? You slow down deliberately, break the maddening pace, pull back on the reins, and look.
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, Maine attorney, ten-year naval intelligence officer (USNR), and 25-year businessman. He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (North Country Press, 2018), and “Cherish America: Stories of Courage, Character, and Kindness” (Tower Publishing, 2024). He is the National Spokesman for AMAC. Today, he is running to be Maine’s next Governor (please visit BobbyforMaine.com to learn more)!
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