Resting in the Eye

There comes a moment on every spiritual path when you stop trying to make the storm go away.

You no longer bargain with God, asking for peace to arrive when the chaos finally ends.

You begin to realize, peace was never waiting on the other side of anything.

It was always inside the center of everything.

We don’t need to force the storm to stop;

we can learn how to rest inside it.

To breathe in the eye of it and recognize

that peace isn’t the absence of chaos,

it’s the presence of God within it, within us.

When you can feel the wind whip through your life and still anchor into breath,

when the waves rise and you stop fighting the tide, something sacred happens.

Your nervous system begins to trust the unknown.

Your heart starts to whisper, “I’ve been here before.”

And your soul remembers: the storm was never punishment, it was purification.

The moments that broke you were not evidence of failure,

they were invitations to embody the divine more fully. It was you growing in spirit a size up or more from before.

The discomfort you feared was never the enemy,

it was the friction required for revelation.

Every pressure point, every rupture, every silence,

a holy rehearsal for your own resurrection.

Resting inside the storm doesn’t mean you don’t cry.

It means you stop apologizing for the sound.

It means you let the lightning strike through your illusions

and trust that what remains is real.

Because God doesn’t always come as calm,

sometimes God comes as correction, as clearing, as wind.

And in that eye of stillness, when everything else falls away,

you meet yourself.

The part of you that doesn’t flinch or flee.

The part of you that knows.

That is the peace that cannot be disturbed,

because it is not borrowed.

It is born from within through remembrance.