Those who know me well, know I am lover of peace. I seek out peace in both its commonly-understood senses –- defined as the tranquility that allows us to connect with our Maker; and defined as harmonious relationships, or an absence of conflict.
Though imperfect at it, I am one for turning the other cheek, an exercise that often is not immediately rewarding, as it is usually accompanied by a painful swallowing of one’s pride.
But even the most peace-loving soul who has ever walked this Earth knew that there are times when you can not turn away from a confrontation, but must overturn tables.
Such is the scenario into which Life has drawn me.
I did not go looking for this. I had no notion ever of jousting with a corporate colossus. No, nothing of the sort ever entered my head; not here, deep in the forest of Northern Ontario, where I have chosen to make my home these past few years. Up here, the only creature with which you imagine you’d tussle is one with claws and a shiny, black pelt.
Ah, but here it is, now, that I am readying myself to engage with what can only be described as a giant in the corporate world.
There is no peace – as in harmonious relationships or an absence of conflict – here.
That’s why, yesterday, as I braced myself for the start in earnest of this battle, I slipped away into the woods, into my cathedral of the forest. There was plenty of peace there –- peace of the first kind. Peace that reminded that our lives have a purpose. Peace that reaffirmed that we are our brother’s keeper, with all the requirements of sacrifice that implies. And peace that reassured that no matter what comes, there is a rod and a staff to look to for comfort.