This morning, I had the thought that we are not much good to ourselves or anyone else when we don’t have inner peace. Maybe we call it something different. An even temperament. Or a decent mood.
But the low and behold of it, is inner peace. Without having that sense of calm in ourselves, it is difficult to be kind, loving, caring, giving. If we feel like somebody peed in our Wheaties that day, lending ourselves to the world becomes a tall order.
Of course, many of you know I write a blog, as you are here, reading it now. However, for the past couple of years, I’ve been writing books. Four in all. Novels. I have completed two works of fiction, and the other two are nearly finished first drafts.
I have yet to find an agent for either of the first two completed works, and I have pitched them both a substantial number of times. No matter how many rejection letters I get, they are still as hard to read as the first.
I realize it is an ungodly market, and only the smallest percentage of budding writers will ever get published. But I am learning, and so it goes.
Not many people know about the novel-writing, as I’ve not made it public knowledge until now. At any rate, the manuscript I’m working on right now is a struggle, but I’m trying to push through. I have issues to work out. I write in the style of the “pantsers” “as opposed to the “outliner,” “meaning I make things up as I go. And with this one, I’ve painted myself in some corners.
I only bring all this up because today is Calamity JJane’sbirthday. She was born in Princeton, Missouri, on May 1, 1852. And even though my book is set in 1970, Calamity Jane is one of the characters, in the memory part of things.
Every time I see a photo of her, it makes me a little sad because I am fairly certain her life did not know times of inner peace. She struggled. Her entire world seemed to be a challenge, a hardship, a fracas. Jane was a chronic alcoholic, for one thing. She died from her alcoholism, though her cause of death is often listed as pneumonia and bowel inflammation.
Her real name was Martha Jane Cannary. She was born into a poor family. Her father, Robert, had a terrible gambling problem. Not much is known about her mother, Charlotte, except that she died very young. After that, the father moved the six children around a couple of times before he died young, too. This left six kids, in an unknown place, with Jane being the oldest at age 14.
She took it upon herself to raise the family. She worked every kind of job imaginable, from cleaning woman to prostitute. Most of us know her later life and her affiliation with Buffalo Bill Hickok. He didn’t want much to do with her, and she wanted everything to do with him.
They both worked, at times, in wild west shows. The most notable was Wild Bill CCody’sWild West Show. She was a rough and tumble gal, though. In her adult years, she did a number of different things, like explorer, Army scout, pioneer, storyteller, sharpshooter, performer, dance-hall girl, and prostitute.
But, she drank, and drank. She finally moved back to the Black Hills of South Dakota. She was on a train, drinking, and when it pulled into the town of Terry, near Deadwood. She was sick and incoherent. They carried her up to a hotel room, and she died soon thereafter.
Here is how the Universe works, though. I’ve been thinking about cutting her character out of the book, I’ve been kicking this around hard for the past few days, in fact. And there, this morning, when I open my Inbox, is Calamity JJane’sface, letting me know that today is her birthday.
I guess I better keep her in the book.
As for the rest of it, I suppose that finding “inner peace” is much easier when our lives are easy. I know all of us have things that are hard at times. But some people have insurmountable challenges. Like being hungry, or homeless, or abused, or sick. It is hard to find peace there.
Today, I pray for peace. For all. No calamity. Just peace.
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“You have peace,” “the old woman said, “When you make it with yourself.”
― Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven
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“Quiet conscience makes one strong!”
― Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
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“The world is quiet here.”
― Lemony Snicket
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