Being at Peace with Uncertainty

by Gigi Pandian

I'm a planner. I haven't run out of milk or any other staple in over 10 years. I plan vacations years in advance and buy airline tickets months ahead of time. I don't start writing a mystery until I have a plot worked out.

But this past year, I had to let go of all that.

And you know what? It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

When I wasn't healthy enough to go to the supermarket myself, my family and friends brought over groceries and made home-cooked meals. Giving up the control of being the one in the household to go to the supermarket was an adjustment. But it was amazing to learn how many people wanted to help.

When I couldn't travel, I had to cancel three upcoming trips. At first I was really disappointed, but I knew I had no choice. Once I accepted that, I realized there was a lot that I could do at home. Thanks to technology, I could work from home. That gave me a bit of normalcy. But when I wasn't working, what would I do with myself? I couldn't make plans that involved going out, so I lacked structure. And I didn't know how well I'd be feeling each day, so I had to take things one day at a time. That was the biggest challenge—not knowing.

But that's exactly what let me brainstorm about the projects that led me to create Gargoyle Girl Productions. And when I didn't want to be productive, I still didn't want to be bored. I took photographs of things around the house with a funky new camera lens, and hung out with my bookshelves full of books I hadn't previously had time to read. I had never before embraced giving up on books I wasn't into, but now I'm all about finishing only good books. Life's too short to spend time reading books we don't enjoy—or doing anything else we don't enjoy, for that matter.

When November rolled around, it was time for NaNoWriMo. But wait! I wouldn't be able to do my usual routine of spending National Novel Writing Month meeting up with a good friend at a cafe multiple mornings per week. This year, I was on my own. But I think that's part of what enabled me to write something completely different than I was used to.

Now I'm well enough to be going into the office, buying my own groceries, and hanging out a cafes. But there's still a lot of uncertainty in my life. I've always been mellow, and I'm glad it turns out that after being shaken up I've again found that place of being at peace. I still wish I could plan a bit more.... But based on how well I got through the second half of 2011, I'd say I'm doing pretty well being at peace with uncertainty.

Martha's Moment of Peace

I have a pretty serious case of anxiety and therefore a pretty serious case of insomnia. Most mornings at three am, I find myself desperate to silence the chatter in my mind, desperate for a little peace.

I finally found it - on youtube.

Several years ago, I stumbled upon this video of a young man receiving a head massage in India.



The video is weirdly hypnotizing and relaxing especially given the video is loud and the massage itself even a bit...jarring. But I couldn't stop myself from watching it over and over again. Soon, I started clicking on other Indian head massage videos. After two or three videos, my eyes would droop and bam, I'd be asleep.

It got to the point where I'd sneak into bed with my tablet and tune into youtube to watch the video before falling asleep.

I started to feel like I had a dirty little secret.

Turns out - I'm not alone. This video, for one, has been watched nearly four million times as of today. There is a whole mini-cult of people who watch massage videos to calm down and are especially relaxed by videos of traditional Indian head massages.

Everyone's got something that soothes their soul.

Guess mine is just a little unorthodox.

Peace in the Kingdom

L.G.C. Smith

Idiosyncratic as it may be, I spend a lot of time imagining life in early seventh century Britain. The heroes who inspired my “Kings of the North” series lived and died then, as did the Anglo-Saxon saint from whose name comes the place name that is my family name.

I have ridiculous fantasies of getting another PhD, this one in early medieval British landscape history, just because I love pondering the little scraps of information left by material culture, works of poetry and history, place names, field systems, church records, parish boundaries, architecture, archeology and whatnot. Then I make up more stories based on what I learn instead of writing journal articles, so I really I don’t need another degree to do that. But I keep reading Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People. And a lot of other stuff besides.

My thoughts are much on King Edwin of Northumbria these days, as his book is up next. Bede has a great deal to say about Edwin because he was the first Northumbrian king to convert to Christianity. Edwin looms large by virtue of having established some measure of sovereignty over a good bit of what is today England (along with a fair portion of Scotland) and having led the charge for Christ in Northumbria.


It would be, I think, a mistake to view Edwin as any sort of modern-day evangelist. For one thing, Bede tells of him taking a very long time to decide to convert from whatever native pagan tradition he was raised in. In his darkest hour, when his greatest enemy (Æthelfrith, the hero of the first book in my series, Warlord) stood poised to annihilate him, Edwin received a mysterious visit from a stranger who exacted the promise that if there were someone who could save him from betrayal and death, Edwin would offer his allegiance to that lord. Of course this turned out to be The Lord, the Big Guy himself. And even though Edwin was saved, he didn’t immediately attribute that salvation to God. It took some time and another prophesied sign to get him on that path.

Even then, Edwin had to confer with his advisors. Bede would have it that Edwin’s chief priest decided there was no tangible benefit in the old religion. It wasn’t winning them any battles or loot. Therefore, practically speaking, it made sense to jump ship. Then Bede relates his famous ‘sparrow in the hall’ homily, likening the moment of a sparrow’s flight in one window and out another to a man’s awareness of his mortal life. It is but a flash of a much wider reality that is don’t necessarily perceived. Edwin listened to both the pragmatic and the metaphysical arguments.

The final argument, however, sounded all too much like certain hawkish fundies. In the old religion, priests were forbidden arms. So the high priest insisted on being the first to hie himself up on the king’s stallion, grab a sword, cut down the old idols and burn the temple. Bede seems to feel this was noble behavior. I notice that it wasn’t Edwin who did it. He didn’t stop it. But he didn’t do it himself.


Eventually Edwin committed to conversion, was baptized, founded churches and dedicated his daughter to the service of the Church, but my sense is that he did it for political reasons as much as anything personal. Bede’s most glowing praise of Edwin stands out through the many centuries since his life: It was related that there was so great a peace in Britain, wherever the dominion of King Edwin reached, that, as the proverb still runs, a woman with a newborn child could walk throughout the island from sea to sea and take no harm. (Bede, The Ecclesiastical History of the British People, Oxford World’s Classics, 1999, OUP, p. 100)

For all that he was a warrior who rode into battle at the head of his army, sword at the ready, Edwin appears to have cared for more than victory and conquest. A peaceable kingdom was no mean accomplishment if word of it survived a hundred years past Edwin’s reign and into Bede’s lifetime. In an age of warrior kings and saints, this detail offers a glimpse into what peace meant in the early seventh century.

It is entirely speculation, but I suspect that Edwin made his choice to convert to Christianity for reasons in which personal faith may have been only a small part. In light of the orderly peace Bede describes, Edwin likely saw Christianity as a means to bring together the disparate peoples of his time. The more numerous British were already Christian and had been from late Roman times. The less numerous Anglo-Saxons were not, aside from the odd king, but as they gained political power, their kings may have seen advantages to be had in adopting the religion of the majority of the population.


They did so in a fractious fashion pitting the authority of the Roman Church against that of the Celtic Church, but behind both iterations of the faith lay similar teachings about the relations between mankind and God. Those could be drawn upon to order the relationships between men and women in communities where the lines of power and authority were shifting. The Good News offered functional templates for everyday life wherein all lives mattered and were worth preserving. The choice of the sparrow in Edwin’s hall is no accident of rhetoric. It highlights the teaching of Matthew (10:29-31) that claims that God knows if a single sparrow falls to earth. If such small creatures have worth and value to God then so should people understand that the worth of a human life is great, as well. This lesson was vital to establishing peace in Edwin’s kingdom.

Life in early seventh century Britain was dicey. Peace was hard to come by. I think Edwin saw a better chance for it under Christianity. I also think history records that he was a charismatic leader, probably more beloved than he was feared. Yet Edwin’s peace did not last long. He ruled Northumbria for seventeen years, and his death ushered in another short period of chaos and conflict that showed how tenuous his peace truly was. But it lived large in the memory of his kingdom and remains a part of the dynamic history of the North.

My New Year begins with thinking about King Edwin and the peace he wrought. By year’s end, I hope to have cast him into war again, and learned what a peacemaking old warrior might do with modern conflicts.


PS: In other news, Staindrop has been renamed Master of My Surrender. Apparently men tend to hear 'Staindrop' and think “Monica Lewinsky” and “dress.” To those of you who went there, all I can say is that yes, I was aware of the connotation, but most women did not go there. They really didn’t. However, I can only take so much adolescent snickers, and in the world of ebooks, it’s an easy fix. To those of you who’ve bought it, thank you very much, and please beware this is the same book you already have.

What's So Funny

For your Thursday listening pleasure:



So, if that worked you should all be wanting to run out and join the Peace Corps...or a New Wave band. Either one is good.

Serenity Sucks (or, writing in cafes with friends)

The other day I was imposing myself on a very patient Penfatale (I won’t say who, but she’s an excellent knitter) who was writing in her favorite café. Since I’m on deadline, I’ve become a child about writing and needed her presence across the table to keep my you-know-what in the chair.

It’s a bustling coffee shop, always full of folks chatting and plotting and studying and writing. It also has a dedicated section for children, with toys and chalkboards and toddler-style effluvia – the kind of place I would have given my left arm for when my own son was a tot.

So as we’re writing, the play-sounds of children begin to rise above the murmur of the adult patrons. Specifically, some kid starts banging on something wooden with something metal. Or something. Point is, someone small is making noise.

The man at the table next to us sighs heavily in exasperation. He looks over at the children’s corner and scowls, harrumphing loudly. Bangs his hands on the table. Sighs again.

Then, since his will is still not done –despite his obvious displeasure-- he glances over at me and tries to engage me in conversation: “Can you believe what people let their children get away with these days?”

I stare at my computer screen, pretending not to notice his very public discontent. I decide I love the loud banging and laughing from the children’s area. I decide that pretty much whatever this guy likes, I like the opposite.

After a few more minutes he packs up his computer and books – including one titled Too Many People—and goes to complain at the counter, then hangs around to grouse with a trio of other middle-aged white guys for a few minutes before leaving the shop in a huff.

This leaves me pondering what my friend calls "white people problems". By which she means, of course, the relatively inconsequential inconveniences that ruin the day of folks who are far too privileged to understand exactly how privileged they are. And thus have their days ruined by children having the audacity to act like children in a children's play area, while they're trying to read.

Speaking only for myself, I’ve noticed something important in my life: When I feel peaceful on the*inside*, I can cope with a good deal of external chaos. In fact, I often search for a lack of peace. I once painted a mural in a massage studio and between the peaceful music and the peaceful quiet and the peaceful whispers and the peaceful colors, I thought I was going to tear my hair out. I left everyday and sought out brilliant colors and raucous laughter and vibrant life.

Sure, there are days when I want nothing more than to curl up in bed and ignore the phone and not talk, at all. Or go sit in a redwood forest somewhere all by myself and breathe in the serenity. But in general, some of my favorite things are just not peaceful. Children, animals, cities, my friends, beach boardwalks, dancing, parties….just about my whole life.

All that said, if you need peace and quiet in your surroundings, by all means, go for it.

But here’s a tip: don’t choose a busy café with a dedicated space for children to play. Things are going to get loud.