New Year’s resolution: Lose the noise, find a measure of peace

Some of the best moments of my life have been wrapped in peace and quiet. Like standing under a black sky with a billion stars overhead, and no other light. Or walking along a deserted road in the softly falling snow. Skating on a frozen lake with my hair blowing back and nothing but the sound of my skates scraping the ice. A hot cup of coffee at four in the morning, in a house soundly sleeping. It's the little things. …

2017 was noisy. There were many changes personally and in the community around me. I moved into a house that was new to me, and the White House got a new commander in chief. Life changed, as it has done since the beginning of time, and I stayed tuned in to the movement via the internet, newspapers, TV and people who talked to me.  It was overwhelming. My resolution for 2018 is to actively pursue quiet and peace.

I have offered commentary in this newspaper for many years. I recently compiled my past articles into a scrapbook that was rather thick. I was thinking of giving it to my parents as a Christmas gift, an offering to them for instilling in me a sense of duty. Maybe I wanted to say "This is what I've done with the life you gave me, now I want to get on with living." I've long felt a responsibility to help with issues that are wanting for solutions. I've shared my perspective on topics ranging from rural education, to abortion, religion, race relations, suicide, sexual abuse and community healing. I wanted to help. And maybe I did, a little bit. But I can see how my attention to so much negativity was harmful to me.

My resolution for 2018 is to seek quiet and peace, and that means keeping my opinions to myself more frequently. I want to unplug. I don't need to know what 500 people on "nose-book" are doing at any moment of the day. I don't need CNN's voice in my head. I usually start my day with the newspaper, but I find the constant stream of information is too much for me lately.  I am a huge fan of the First Amendment and our right as citizens to speak up, but I'm backing off for a bit. I want peace and quiet.

[Have you considered a spiritual retreat?]

I remember attending a training session as a young woman. The facilitator was leading a problem-solving exercise. At one point in the game, everyone's voices were raised as we all offered our perspective about what should be done. We all had different ideas and were clamoring for the lead to provide our unique solutions. I heard the sound of my own voice, mixed in with many. It was very noisy. I stopped, in that moment, and stood back from the chaos. I got it. The point of the exercise was to remain calm and not give a knee-jerk response. I don't always practice that lesson, but that is my New Year's resolution.

How many of us socially conscious people seek change to the detriment of our own well-being? We raise our fists and shout, or point out everything that's wrong in our world or communities. We are plugged in to "bad news networks" that give us things to worry about 24 hours a day. There is a lot going wrong in the world. But there is a lot that's right, too. And though it's all of our responsibility to help a neighbor in need, to the best of our ability, I don't think that we help by spreading negativity. Sometimes, when I dive into issues that need fixing, I become imbalanced and tend to look at the life-giving glass as half empty, when instead I could look at it as plenty.

[Finding old friends in the 'Big Lonely']

I want to remember the magic of life that, up until recently, I believed to the core of my being. I began to see some things differently in 2017. Some of the darkness that was brought to light, within my own self, family, and community, was disheartening and caused me to question many things. I wonder if it's possible to regain innocence once you've felt anger so deep you wanted to destroy somebody? Anger is a natural emotion that gives us the energy to protect ourselves and our loved ones in the face of danger, but it is not sustainable. 2017 was brimming with anger. I want to be joyful and innocent, like a child, again.

Memories from my childhood have been calling me lately. I remember the deep sense of well-being that came from being outside, near my parents' homestead, under the sky. I was a small individual in a big space that stretched out around and above me. Perhaps remembering our smallness is the key to peace. One thing I realize, here at year's end, is that I'm just not that important. If I were to die tomorrow, the world would keep spinning. While that might sound kind of depressing, I actually find the thought very freeing. It's not my responsibility (or even a possibility) to fix everything. It's a myth that can creep in and misguide community activists and those who work in the helping professions. We are told that if we're not angry we're not paying attention, that we have to fight, that angry women will change the world, etc. I don't know about all that. The truth, as I see it, is that my first duty is to maintain a state of peace, for myself and my community.

The sphere of influence, where I can truly make a difference, begins in my heart and home. Mother Teresa was on to something when she advised the change makers to "go home and love your families." That's how we cultivate a great society. Sometimes we do have to stand in defense of ourselves or another, but I don't need to weigh in on every topic that flashes across my screen. In 2018, I want to spend less time in the company of artificial light and more time outside. I don't need 500 social media friends, just a few good buddies. I want to be informed, but not inundated. I want to laugh more, play a lot, and go out dancing. I want to seek long moments of quiet and pay attention to the peace. It's the little things. …

Chantelle Pence is the author of "Homestead Girl: The View From Here." She divides her time between Anchorage and Chistochina.

The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by the Anchorage Daily News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)adn.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@adn.com or click here to submit via any web browser.