
In a sense, it doesn’t matter what is going on around you. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances of your life are.
There is still within you a quiet place. A place of serenity. A place of joy. A place of calmness. A place of safety and security.
I have found this to be true on many occasions in my life.
There is a way to remove yourself from the swirl of life going on around you and just re-connect with your inner energy again.
This is very powerful. It can hold you steady in a storm. It can give you light when all seems dark. In can give you serenity when all around you is noisy.
Some may call it meditation. Some may call it day-dreaming. Some may call it escapism.
It really doesn’t matter what you call it. The important thing is, that this place, this place within you, is a source of strength and power that you can call upon at any time. And it simply requires you to switch off from your chattering busy mind, slow it all down and re-connect with yourself.
My Granddad served in the Eighth Army in World War Two and he told me so many tales of life in the desert. But one of the stories he told me really stuck in my mind.
On the way out to Africa, the Eighth Army travelled by boat. They used an old meat boat to sail. Any boat or vessel would do in those desperate times. And as they travelled, they would come under attack from submarines.
My Grandad used to laugh as he recalled that he let nothing come between him and his sleep. He’d boast that, “I can sleep on a clothes line!”
So regardless of the bombing and noise and attacks, every night, at a set time he would settle down to sleep and sleep for the entire night. However, his sergeant was a worrying kind of a man. And rather than sleep, he would spend the whole night walking up and down, and up and down, on edge and ever watchful for the next danger.
My Grandad recalled that one morning, after a particularly bad night of bombing, he awoke to find that his sergeant had gone completely grey overnight. Completely grey overnight! Now that’s what worrying can do for you.
And the thing is, they both survived the war. Regardless of all the bombings, they both survived and came home to the UK to start rebuilding their lives. But my Grandad came back relatively un-scarred, and with a head full of black hair, whilst his sergeant came back with white hair and needed extensive treatment for his nerves.
So within, the most stressful of circumstances, even with the threat of death hanging in the air, my Grandad found a way to remove himself from the fear and worry of his situation, and give himself a great night’s sleep. Now that’s what I call strength!


Recent Comments