WHAT IF OUR LONGING FOR PEACE IS ACTUALLY WHAT KEEPS US FROM IT?
There is something paradoxical about the longing for inner peace and freedom. It seems so pure. So understandable. Who wouldn’t want calm, space, liberation from inner restlessness? And yet, that very longing can subtly bind us.
The moment peace becomes a goal, it turns into something that must be achieved. Something not yet here. Something dependent on circumstances, on practice, on how well we are “doing it.” Almost unnoticed, a movement of grasping slips in. A searching. A striving. And within that striving, there is tension.
We say: I want to be free.
But within that sentence lies the assumption that we are not free now.
We say: I want inner peace.
But in doing so, we declare this moment to be unpeaceful.
And so a subtle rejection of what is begins to form.
The longing for peace can become disguised resistance to restlessness. The longing for freedom can become avoidance of the experience of limitation. The longing for enlightenment can become aversion to our human confusion. And that very resistance, however refined, keeps the contraction in place.
Often, beneath it all, there is an almost imperceptible fear: if I truly allow this moment as it is, what will happen? If I stop trying to fix my restlessness, soften my sadness, transcend my dissatisfaction, what remains?
And so we begin to search. For techniques. For insights. For states of consciousness. For experiences of silence. And whenever they appear, we want to hold on to them. When they disappear, we want them back.
But freedom cannot be grasped.
True equanimity does not arise because we stop the waves, but because we stop fighting their movement. Peace does not arise because everything becomes still, but because there is no longer resistance to what moves. Freedom does not arise as the result of pursuing it, but as a byproduct of full presence.
This does not mean that longing is wrong. Longing itself can be a doorway. It points somewhere. But it asks for refinement. Instead of: how do I get away from here? Or how do I get there? The question can shift to: can I be fully here?
Often beneath our desires lies a subtle hope that life will become different than it is now. Softer. Lighter. Less confronting. Yet the path invites us to exclude nothing. Not the restlessness. Not the confusion. Not the fear.
The moment we dare to see even our urge for peace as a movement within awareness, space opens. Then even longing becomes part of what may be observed. Without judging it. Without following it. Without suppressing it.
And perhaps this is the reversal it speaks of: not seeking peace, but fully allowing restlessness. Not chasing freedom, but inquiring into limitation. Not forcing calm, but seeing where we contract in our desire for it.
In that seeing, something relaxes.
Peace no longer needs to arrive. Freedom no longer needs to be attained. This moment, with everything it contains, is no longer an obstacle, but the doorway.
And perhaps we then discover that what we were seeking was never outside this moment, but was veiled by the longing to be somewhere else.
Perhaps the peace you have been longing for is waiting in the space where you finally stop longing
If this reflection resonates, if you recognize the subtle effort of “wanting to be at peace”, then Rest & Restore was created for you.
In this online retreat moment, we do not practice to achieve calm. We create space to soften the inner striving. Through slow, nourishing movement, restorative shapes, breath, and guided inquiry, you are invited to experience what it feels like to rest without a goal. To restore without fixing. To simply be with what is present.
As a lived exploration of what opens when nothing needs to change.
If you feel the quiet pull to pause… to step out of the subtle chase for peace… and to discover what remains when you allow this moment fully, I warmly invite you to join Rest & Restore.