Words of Tranquility

Words of Tranquility

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Let tranquility drench me like a warm summer rain, soaking into my spirit where it’s most needed. Lately, I’ve felt a shift not the dramatic kind that slaps you in the face, but a subtle, almost sneaky kind of peace. It’s like when you’re sitting on a porch, lost in thought, and suddenly realize the storm has passed.

The waters that once seemed bent on swallowing me whole have mellowed out. Those towering waves? Gone. Now, they’re more like the kind you’d see in a postcard gentle, rolling, even inviting. The winds that used to howl like a toddler denied a cookie are down to a manageable breeze. Sure, they still mess up my hair, but at least they’re not tossing me around anymore.

I can feel it this quiet calm making its way into every corner of my life. It’s not just the absence of chaos; it’s the presence of something sweeter, richer. The birds seem to know it too. They’re back, flitting through the fields like tiny ambassadors of hope. The deer have wandered back into the meadows, and even the wildflowers look braver, daring to bloom where they once cowered.

And here’s the kicker: I smell the dew on the grass before I even see a single cloud. It’s like nature’s way of winking at me, saying, “Relax. The rain is coming, and it’s the good kind.”

You know, life doesn’t always hand out peace on a silver platter. Sometimes, it’s like a game of hide-and-seek, and tranquility is really good at hiding. But I’ve learned to spot the clues. Like that moment in the forest when the world goes still not silent, but perfectly balanced. The rustling leaves, the bubbling brook, the distant birdcall it’s nature’s version of a deep sigh.

Then there are the mountains. Oh, the mountains. Standing up there, with the wind in your face and the world spread out below, you can’t help but let go of all the nonsense you’ve been clinging to. It’s like the universe saying, “Hey, stop being dramatic. You’re part of something so much bigger.”

And let’s talk about rain. Not the kind that floods your basement, but the soft, steady drizzle that makes everything smell fresh and alive. Have you ever noticed how the earth exhales after a rain? That earthy, sweet scent it’s like the planet itself is whispering, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Now, I’m not saying tranquility shows up with a marching band and confetti. Sometimes it sneaks in through the back door, disguised as a quiet sunset or the simple joy of watching a squirrel outsmart a bird feeder. It’s in the little things, the moments we’re too busy or too worried to notice.

There was a time when my life felt like one endless storm. The kind where you can’t tell if the sky is crying or you are. But even then, there were glimpses of peace a warm cup of tea, a kind word from a stranger, the way the moonlight spilled across my bedroom floor.

Peace is like that friend who doesn’t need a grand entrance. It just shows up, sits with you, and reminds you that you’re not alone. The Creator knows what we need, even when we don’t. And sometimes, what we need is a little rain, a little wind, and a whole lot of faith.

So if you’re in the middle of your storm, hang tight. Look for the small signs. Maybe it’s a bird singing after the rain or the way the sun peeks through the clouds just when you’re about to give up. Tranquility is on its way, I promise. And when it arrives, it’ll feel like the sweetest breath you’ve ever taken.

And hey, if all else fails, remember this: Even the squirrels get through the storm, and they don’t have a backup plan. If they can make it, so can you.