There are three things I’ve always found tremendous peace in, and they really aren’t that related. One is fires in a fireplace. Michigan sees a lot of snow in December, January, and February, but cold nights can show up as early as mid-October (I once trick-or-treated in snow) and as late as Memorial Day.
That’s where fires come in. They’re warming, they’re pretty, they need enough tending to require you to stay awake, and you have to be in the room when they’re occurring, unless you’re looking to remodel, so you have to pay attention to them and their wonder. Yes, you can pay bills, multitask, and social mediaize when a fire is going on, but why would you want to? I mean, look at that flame.
The second peace source is writing. Early in my college counseling career, I was completely bamboozled by college guides, those books that allegedly help students choose, apply, and pay for college. These tomes typically weigh in at about 300 pages, each one with a section on writing 600 word essays that is typically 20 pages long.
I never understood that—if students can only write 600 words in the typical college essay, why aren’t the authors of college guides leading by example? This led to the creation of College is Yours, a college guide where every chapter is 600 words or less. It’s won awards, but more important, it’s helped kids apply to college, then get back to their lives, since you can’t really write a college application essay about what a great life you have unless you’re actually, you know, living.
I’m still writing 600 words each week about college issues, thanks to the very kind editors at High School Counselor Week. This nifty weekly online newsletter culls media sites for articles of interest to school counselors and sends them to subscribers for free. My column is always included, and readers tell me it makes them better counselors. Equally gratifying, they share the ideas widely with their parents and students.
The third supplier of peace is the sky when the sun is only half here, otherwise known as sunrises and sunsets. I imagine these could be considered as two different things, but the deep content conjured in me by both makes them the same thing to me. There was a time as a teen when I got up early just to watch the sunrise, then beat it home and lit a candle in my room while I watched the sun go down. Watching a light show of this proportion puts my worries and complaints in perspective, both humbling and encouraging me. My life is a tiny journey compared to those of sunbeams, but their beauty inspires me to try and make my travels rich with a similar glow others get something out of.
I always thought it would be great to have a space where I could try out the weekly exercise of writing in 600 words about something that has nothing to do with college, and I’m finally getting around to it. You may not want to be up in time to watch the six o’clock sky, or you may be making dinner when the other six o’clock sky shows up. I’ll keep an eye on each for the two of us, and talk about what I find. In addition—and on top of the 600 words (which doesn’t include the title), I’ll throw a poem in each week. That could be a fourth source of peace, if I were better at it. For now, it’s a source of peace-in-progress.
Enjoy.
Microlife
I felt the spoon
Drop from my hand
And neatly into
Its appointed silverware slot.
Odd, I thought
In that dozens of previous dishwasher unloadings
Never brought that to my attention.
A quick hand over hand
And the steering wheel
Guided the car
Two spots away from the cart corral
Something I’d never noticed
But sure came in handy
After exiting the store
Avoiding my typical
Parking lot meanderings.
These observations
Are firsts.
A breeze on my face
The typeface of a book
The alstroemeria’s faint scent
Have my brand new undivided attention
And I revel
In all of it.
Six O'Clock Sky 
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