Tranquility is a treasure. One that cannot be found on an old pirates’ map. It can be found though. Maybe not in a retreat, but perhaps in a quiet Saturday morning before everyone else gets up. Maybe in a cup of tea. Possibly in the cool breeze coming in through the open window. Maybe in realizing that understanding is all about not understanding. A deer passes by the window. Somewhere, a lightning bolt hits the ground. It’s all relative and relevant. They say what we don’t know can hurt us, but sometimes what we do know is just as dangerous.