The Need for Serenity
The Need for Serenity
With so much going on in the world of dot com, we need some dot calm.
“Everywhere peace, everywhere serenity, and a marvelous freedom from the tumult of the world.” — Saint Aelred of Rievaulx, c. 1147
I just returned from a week away, a good portion of which I spent without WiFi. For the remainder of the week, I spent less time on social media.
And you know what? It felt good. Really good.
I recently put the newsletter on hold, after being overwhelmed with it each week. The scope had slowly crept up over the years, to the point where it just became too much: too many topics, too many links, too unwieldy to read and to write.
Doing so made me realize there’s so much more joy to be had and richness to experience offline. From reading and reflecting to interacting and observing.
We need more serenity, at work and at home.
Serenity — or tranquility — is perhaps the greatest treasure in life.
To be tranquil is to be able to sit quietly and enjoy today without a nod to the past or a glance toward the future.
That observation is trite, I know. But aren’t all the great truths of life trite?
Sadly, not many people can achieve the related mood of perfect serenity. When they are young their eyes are on a distant horizon. When they grow older their memories play tricks with the past.
The future always intrigues. It’s unknown. It’s fuzzy. It’s filled with our hopes and fears.
But if we allow ourselves the chance to reflect, the present has an even greater compensation — if you know how to enjoy it.
That compensation is serenity.
Serenity is a precious compound. But because it only exists in the present, it is fleeting.
It’s hard to capture in the imagination. It is even more difficult to capture in daily motion.
So I hope you’ll commit to joining me for a slower, deliberate approach amidst the knee-jerk reactionaries of the online world.
Together, we’ll parse out what matters and what will make you a better leader.
Less dot com. More dot calm.
Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.
