*IF you haven’t read part 1 of this series, I’d recommend that you start there, because I’m going to sound like a real werido if you don’t (or maybe even if you do). *
Menuchat ha’nefesh means literally calmness of the soul. This soul trait does not mean the end of all struggles but rather the inner balance that enables us to handle the ups and downs that come to our lives.
-Rabbi Alan Morinis
Now, I want to stop and clarify what tranquility means to me.
Seriously, this is important. For me, tranquility is not about rising above the fray. For me, tranquility is not about avoiding discomfort. For me, tranquility is not about being unaffected by unpleasantness. That to me, is not only unattainable but undesirable. I thrive when actively engaging with the world around me. I clearly appreciate the gifts that sadness, fear, anger, and hurt can give me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a nurse. To be a nurse that was unaffected by tragedy and loss would be not only a loss to my patients and their families, but a loss to me. What good are life’s experiences if they don’t evoke change from us?
To me, tranquility is about experiencing both the good and the bad and figuring out what that means for me. This gets very, very personal for me.
As a trauma survivor, my psyche was conditioned to block out a lot of feelings. Both emotional and physical. I learned to focus on observing and describing the world around me, and operating in that world in order to avoid the emotional cesspool swirling within me as well as the emotional ramifications of those feelings. This could be misconstrued as tranquility. I was aloof. I was above the fray. I was functioning. However, I was not experiencing my life. I was merely operating in a world in which I didn’t know my place.
Those of you who have known me for a while would probably argue: You weren’t a robot! You laughed and cried and yelled! You had emotions!
Answer: While I still had emotion, it was often irregular and inappropriate. I would let a lot of things build up and it would all explode. Or, more frequently than not, I would have emotions, but not the physical sensations that typically accompany them (more on this later) I could have beautiful moments of clarity where I felt connected and rooted, especially around loved ones. There was an ebb and flow.
Those of you who don’t know me may think: What does this woman mean by a survivor of trauma? What horrible things has she been through??
Answer: It’s not really relevant. Trauma is trauma is trauma. People’s nervous systems (or psyches, whatever term you choose), respond to things. A break up, a pet’s death, a fight, illness, hurt feelings. These are all traumas. Trauma is not just applicable to rape, death, or abuse. Those, of course are huge, life altering traumas. They are large enough to completely dissolve a psyche on their own. Their scale can not be overstated. However, small and everyday traumas can add up if not dealt with. One person shaming you day after day can add up until your entire nervous system is shattered.
Tranquility is the ability to actively feel and participate, or experience what the world has to offer and make peace with it. I believe this is a very physical process (at least for me). I want to do a short exercise with you (whoever you might be).
Think about happiness. We call happiness a feeling but for me, for a long time, it was just an emotion. There were few “feelings” connected to it. I want you to consider happiness. What does your body feel like when you’re happy? Sit with that for a minute and really consider it.
If you’re having trouble, then you’re probably a lot like I was: someone who, for whatever reason, has not taken the moment to fully experience happiness. If you sit for a minute and try to remember the last time you were happy, you might be able to describe it. For me, when I’m happy, I have a deep ball of warmth in my midsection. I feel a slight flush to my face. I feel a lightness in all of my extremities. Weird sounding, right? It seems so alien to type out these basic body sensations, but for me, that is what my body feels like when it’s happy.
The same thing goes for other emotions. The way my body feels when I’m sad about a sick friend might be different than how my body feels when I’m sad about a guy who doesn’t ask me out. Regardless of the situation, we have real physical sensations that accompany these emotions.
Maybe that’s common knowledge for all of you, but for me, my entire world was turned upside down when I recognized that I had been effectively avoiding an entire range of physical sensations for as long as I can remember.
What does all of this have to do with tranquility? That comes up in part 3 of my tranquility series: Experiencing.
And You Shall Love 