I’m a pretty even-tempered dude. I don’t yell or scream. I rarely raise my voice-except in the movies and at sporting events:)

I’m proud of this.

I mostly go with the flow, as it happens. No outbursts, no outrage. Mellow yellow indeed. (might have something to do with all the weed I smoked in my youth:))

More reflectively, I think this seemingly outward cool and calmness, has a lot to do with the peace inside me.

No, not angst-free peace, but just an everyday-glad-to-be-alive peace. I feel it. I know it. I understand it. I grow it.

Sometimes this fragile peace is right on the edge and verge of frenzy and panic.

Other times, more often, this peace is on the fringe and margins of tranquility

I have never known tranquility like I’ve experienced it, living alone, for the past 3 years.

Ahhhhhhh. It’s a beautiful thing. I’m experiencing it right now.

I’m sure that has partly to do with personality, part choice, part environment, partly station in life alone but not lonely.

Tranquility is a state of quiet, harmony, calmness, serenity, composure.

To me, it comes from simply knowing that, who you are….you are meant to be. Simple. Uncomplicated.

And that your state and stage of life, while neither perfect nor ideal, is where you need to be in this fullness of time.

The more you own this truth…the greater your tranquility.

The absence of tranquility, of course, is blaring, booming, blasting. Yuk.

I know the sounds and feels of this too.

I adored being married to Shannon and having two beautiful and gifted daughters with her.

But like all working families, with both feet always seemingly planted in survival mode, life was gratifying, to be sure, but far from tranquil.

At least not tranquil in the same way I’m experiencing it now, on the other side of things.

Now, in the autumn of my life, living happily alone, having time to write, think and shoot, I enjoy a more calm, collected, composed existence.

Unperturbed. Undisturbed. Unshaken. Unruffled.

Don’t get me wrong, neither the atmosphere of my loft or the attitude of my disposition is always so recollected. Nope. Sometimes both are a royal, even beautiful, mess

But, more often than not, whether during the wee hours of dawn or the last light of dusk, tranquility prevails. I make it prevail. I will it to prevail. I want it to prevail. I claim it.

More recently, through my melancholy meanderings, I find this tranquility strand in me, girds and galvanized me for what I’m good action-mission, vision, passion, action.

Tranquility is not untroubledness.

It’s keeping the noise in check so the signal stays strong.

I’ve always been known as a bit loud, boisterous, even rowdy at times. Still am.

How apropos that, in this tranquility stage, I seem to be enjoying the company and companionship of others, with equal unflappability, imperturbability, equanimity. Birds of a feather I guess.

When we get busy and loud, we drown out our own voices.

And, more often than not, that makes us each lose our way.

And even worse, it crushes and crashes tranquility

Come to the quiet. Come to tranquility.

Come to life’s rush, gush, blush, and, most importantly, hush.



Jack Hollingsworth