One of the ways I'm learning to quiet myself: breathing. Perhaps the beginnings of a practice. Breathe in, thinking "Breath fills me"; breathe out, thinking "falls from me".

While I know the answers lie inside me, I sometimes think of those in my life who have a quiet, easy presence. My friend Geri is a happy, pleasant, active woman with a grace that falls from her as easily as silver dew drops, like cascading simplicity from her shoulders, droplets melting into the ground with quiet sighs. I know her life is just as fraught with troubles as mine, as anyone's, but her outward demeanor is so peaceful. And it's not fake peaceful. She has seemingly found a balance.

Driving home last night in the rain and traffic, I thought about what I've learned about what I need to be peaceful. A big one is that auditory stimuli really get my agitation up. I found this out at work one day when I decided that, as I worked on a complicated IEP (individual education plan - it's a special ed plan for each student), I would wear earplugs.

It was as if I'd dropped into a cave of concentration. (A favorite book from fourth grade had this kind of place: a child falls into a fairy world where there is a danger of falling prey to the Gruesome Green Witch. The tumpte (Swedish fairy folk) lead the girl to a cave where her knowledge is released into the air. She can retrieve the items she needs to finish her homework, and successfully finishes her homework. As in all good fairy tales, she takes this new skill with her and it helps her all her life.)

Earplugs. Who'da thunk it?

And now: quiet, focused breathing. Funny how it's often the most fundamental things that affect us most profoundly.

I'm exercising, I'm sleeping, I'm taking my supplements, I'm learning to relax. What's next? What great revelation is next? Port-au-Patois becomes the Land of Bated Breath. Measured, focused, but bated nonetheless.