The Serenity Kit comes with a set of small wind chimes and a book of calming, zen-like quotations. If you already bought the indoor wind chimes, the serenity is potentially limitless, like a Mobius strip of ongoing tranquility. If this brings you serenity, you’re head and shoulders above the crowd in the inner peace department. I know some people (when I say some, I’m referring to the vast majority of my acquaintances) who experience serenity only when they are not conscious. I know others who are driven to near-manic distress levels by the sound of any wind chiming whatsoever. In fact, there’s a significant amount of overlap in these two subsets.
True serenity is, after all, rather elusive, and rendered even more so by being highly individualized. One man’s serenity is another man’s anxiety attack, if you think about it. A serenity kit for me might include the absence of all other traffic when I’m out on the roads, the guarantee that nothing life-joltingly bad is going to happen for at least 48 hours, and a promise that I will sleep through the night without waking. Being brought some hot chocolate might also help. Oh, right, and I’d like a decent income without having to work for the rest of my life, which I believe would induce a good deal of serenity. Maybe your serenity kit would involve long, hot baths; pigeon-feeding in the park; cloud watching; fishing; afternoon naps; walking hand in hand with a loved one on a secluded beach; or being allowed, at long last, to move to your special happy place and live there forever. But if some light tinkling sounds and a few deep thoughts are all it’s going to take to keep you in check, kudos, serene one.
