# Journal Reflection: On Peace (and My Failed Attempts at Achieving It)

That’s what I thought peace was. A reward. A final destination. A life where everything stops wobbling.

By Pratistha Acharya · October 14, 2025 · Personal Insights
https://www.pratisthaacharya.com.np/post/journal-reflection-on-peace/

**Green Madrigal (I)** _by Lynette Roberts_  
_Peace, my stranger is a tree_  
_Growing naturally through all its_  
_Discomforts, trials and emergencies_  
_Of growth._  
_It is green and resolved_  
_It breathes with anguish_  
_Yet it releases peace, peace of mind_  
_Growth, movement._  
_It walks this greening sweetness_  
_Throughout all the earth,_  
_Where sky and sun tender its habits_  
_As I would yours._

So apparently, I’ve spent years chasing peace like it’s a trophy.  
You know, that fantasy where I’m living somewhere quiet, sipping tea, everything sorted. No chaos, no bad hair days, no people asking “Can I call you for five minutes?” (which is _never_ five minutes).

That’s what I thought peace was.  
A reward. A final destination.  
A life where everything stops wobbling.

And then, I stumble upon this poem _“Green Madrigal (I)”_ by Lynette Roberts.

Because Roberts basically says: peace is a **tree**. It doesn’t just stand there looking enlightened; it grows _through_ mud, storms, droughts, and whatever nonsense the weather throws at it.

And that hit me.  
Peace isn’t some magical state you unlock after paying your emotional taxes. It’s more like breathing half the time you don’t notice you’re doing it, and when you do, it’s probably because you’re hyperventilating.

I used to think peace meant being _calm_ all the time like, permanently serene, always smiling from within, glowing gently like I’ve achieved inner nirvana and good lighting.  
But then life reminded me that some days are just plain garbage. Some days, peace is just _not throwing your phone across the room._

Turns out, peace and pain are roommates.  
They coexist, argue over dishes, and somehow make the place livable.

It’s not the prize at the end of the storm. It’s the part of you that holds the umbrella _while_ it’s raining sideways.

And yes, peace can show up when things are actually good too sitting in the sun, eating mangoes, realizing for one shining second that you’re not overthinking anything.  
That’s peace too. It just feels softer, sweeter less like survival, more like gratitude.

In calm times, peace is rest.  
In rough times, peace is grit.  
Same peace, different outfit.

In pain, it holds you steady.  
 In joy, it lets you breathe.

Peace isn’t about feeling _good_ all the time it’s about feeling **okay enough** even when things are bad. It’s that quiet sense that, _“Yeah, this sucks, but I’ll survive. I can handle this. I’m still me.”_