Raise a Glass to Inner Peace

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Suffice to say, family drama -- namely, my daughter's health, which is not good -- led me to seek inner peace. Nothing we do seems to stop her seizures, and now she is depressed and anxious. You would be too.

So I got out my bar kit. Here's what years of dealing with a chronically ill child have taught me: As bad as things get, you can't let the frail little wildebeest bring down the herd. The herd has to survive. The herd has to live. If the herd gets sucked into the oozing mire, it's over for everyone. So you have to support the little wildebeest, but you have to support everyone else too, including yourself, and that means you need the right cocktail.

My particular cocktail of self help includes walking, meditation, a good night's sleep, hot baths, wine, lunch with friends, movies with husband, and -- most disturbing to the family -- the belting out of show tunes. It's all very Oprah, I know. But, to this mix, I add a little something I call the cultivation of joy. Happiness doesn't just happen. You have to make it happen. And sometimes you have to work harder at it than others.

So after a month of deep reflection and cocktailing, I've decided that inner peace is what you get when you die. Until then, the only peace you get is the peace you work for, and if it passes through your body like water through a colander then that just means it's like everything else in this world. But that's ok. Because sadness and grief pass through that colander too. They're just a little slow to drain because of all the saline. While you're waiting for them to siphon off, drink up. And sing.