Peace Is My Surfboard
I recently watched a video clip of the cast of Steel Magnolias talking about filming the movie. Julia Roberts told a story about how miserable the conditions were at one point—hot, sweltering, everybody complaining. Except Dolly Parton. Apparently, Dolly never complained. Julia said she finally asked her why.
Dolly’s answer was basically this: when she was a little girl, she dreamed of being rich and famous. Now she was rich and famous. What did she have to complain about?
That stuck with me.
Not because I ever dreamed of being rich and famous, but because I understood exactly what she meant. How easy is it to finally be living some version of the life you once hoped for and then spend your time being annoyed by the inconveniences that come with it?
That thought followed me into my journal this morning. I started thinking about what actually makes a life feel satisfying, meaningful and fulfilling to me. Not what should make it fulfilling or what looks like a good life from the outside. What actually makes my life feel good.
Three words came to mind: love, freedom and peace.
I wrote them down and drew lines between them. Huh, I thought. Maybe this is my perfect trifecta.
Love seems like the obvious one, but the more I thought about it, the more expansive it became. It starts with loving myself—allowing myself to be who I am without constantly judging, correcting or second-guessing myself. It means allowing other people to love me too, which sounds simple enough but isn't always. And then, of course, there is loving the people in my life. Loving them for who they are, not who I would occasionally find it more convenient for them to be. Loving them without turning that love into responsibility for managing their choices, feelings or outcomes.
Freedom has become increasingly important to me as I've gotten older. I'm fortunate to be in a season of life where I have a great deal of freedom over my time, my energy, my finances, my relationships and even where I live. But what struck me this morning is that having freedom and using it well are two different things.
I don't want to take my freedom for granted. I want to make choices that respect and honor it. That means being thoughtful about what I say yes to, what I allow to consume my time and attention, and what responsibilities I willingly pick up simply because they happen to be sitting there. Freedom isn't necessarily about having no obligations or constraints. It's recognizing where I do have choices and consciously participating in those choices rather than mindlessly giving them away.
And then there is peace.
I used to think peace was something you experienced when life was going well. When relationships were good, problems were solved, plans were working out and everyone was behaving themselves. Ha! The longer I live, the more unrealistic that definition seems. There will always be something. Someone will disappoint me. Plans will change. Something irritating will happen. Life will continue being life.
For me, peace now has much more to do with what I do with those things once they happen. It means appreciating what is good in my life and being genuinely grateful for it. It means accepting things that really aren't that important rather than giving them far more mental significance than they deserve. And when something is important, it means trying to meet it from a grounded place instead of immediately letting fear, frustration or the desire to control take over.
As I was writing this morning, a rather silly image popped into my head: peace is my surfboard.
I actually kind of love that.
The goal isn't to somehow create an ocean without waves. That sounds both impossible and incredibly boring. The waves are part of the experience. Some are little annoyances. Others can knock you flat. Peace isn't the absence of those waves. It's what I want underneath me as I encounter them. I won't always stay upright. Sometimes I'll fall off and get tossed around for a while. But I can climb back on.
The more I thought about love, freedom and peace, the more I realized how much they support one another. Freedom allows me to choose what deserves my time and attention. Peace helps me avoid surrendering that freedom to every irritation, worry or circumstance that presents itself. And love keeps the whole thing from becoming an exercise in self-protection. I don't want to create a peaceful, free life by withdrawing from people or avoiding anything difficult. I want to stay fully engaged with the people and experiences I care about without losing myself in the process.
Maybe that's why the Dolly Parton story struck me in the first place. It wasn't really about the heat or movie sets or even getting everything you've ever wanted. It was about remembering the bigger picture while standing in the middle of some small irritation.
My life isn't perfect, and I certainly haven't gotten everything I've ever wanted. I don't expect I ever will. But when I look at the big things—the people I love, the freedom I have and the life I've been fortunate enough to build—there is an awful lot to be grateful for.
I don't want to miss that because I'm busy complaining about the heat.
Maybe a satisfying life really can be that simple. Love deeply. Honor your freedom. Cultivate your peace. And when the waves inevitably come, get back on your surfboard.
I'm curious: If you had to choose just three words that describe what makes life feel genuinely good to you, what would they be?
If questions like this get you thinking about how you're experiencing your own life, download my free Discernment Guide. It's a simple tool to help you slow down, sort through what you're thinking and feeling, and consciously choose how you want to respond and move forward.
