I will try this day to live a simple, sincere, and serene life…. — The beginning of “A Morning Resolve.”
A hearty laugh escaped my lips upon reading: “I will try this day to live a simple, sincere, and serene life.” It’s the kind of aspiration that sounds lovely in the abstract, perhaps envisioned amidst a gentle sunrise, complete with a perfectly brewed cup of coffee and a gentle breeze, but often collides rather spectacularly with the cacophony of real life. Between the logistical labyrinth of moving (which always seems to uncover more “essential” items than you ever thought you owned), the pressing demands of finishing my latest novel (plot twists and character development wait for no one!), and the essential, often unpredictable, appointments with doctors, the very notion of “simple, sincere, and serene” can indeed feel like a cruel joke. One might even wonder if the author of that resolve lived in a parallel universe where the internet never existed and deadlines were merely suggestions.
It’s not that we wouldn’t want such a life, mind you, but rather that the modern world, with its relentless pace and myriad responsibilities, seems actively designed to preclude it. We’re constantly juggling, problem-solving, and adapting, often feeling more like professional plate-spinners in a high-stakes circus than seekers of tranquility. The ideal of simplicity often conjures images of unburdened days, clear schedules, and minimal distractions. Yet, for most, life is a complex tapestry woven with threads of obligation and unexpected challenges. How then can one even comprehend simplicity, let alone live it, when the external world insists on complexity that could rival a quantum physics textbook?
Perhaps my laughter, in its honesty, reveals a deeper wisdom. It’s a recognition that true simplicity isn’t necessarily about the absence of challenges or a perfectly uncluttered calendar (as if such a thing truly exists). Instead, it might be an internal state, a way of approaching the inherent messiness of life. To live “sincerely” could mean engaging with each of my current tasks—be it a doctor’s visit, a deadline, or trying to find that one box labeled “kitchen essentials” that somehow ended up with the spare socks—with a genuine presence and effort, rather than wishing I was somewhere else (like on a deserted beach, with only a good book for company). And “serenity,” far from being a constant state of zen-like calm, might be found in the deliberate moments of breath amidst the storm, or in the quiet strength gained from navigating difficulties with a wry smile and a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor.
The universal truth that “all things are possible with God” is particularly poignant here, offering a much-needed lifeline in the ocean of daily chaos. In the face of overwhelming external pressures, the ability to cultivate an inner sanctuary, a core of peace independent of circumstance, becomes invaluable. This spiritual grounding can transform the aspiration from a superficial wish into a practice. It shifts the focus from passively waiting for life to become simple to actively choosing a sincere and serene response to whatever life presents. The Morning Resolve, then, isn’t a checklist for an easy day, but an invitation to cultivate an inner posture that allows for peace, even when the world outside is anything but. It’s a quiet rebellion against the chaos, a daily commitment to the spirit rather than merely to the schedule, reminding us that even amidst the madness, a chuckle can be an act of profound wisdom.
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