For those of us living with chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS), finding peace can often feel like an elusive dream. The body aches, the mind fogs, and even the simple act of resting can feel like a challenge.
But beneath the surface of our strugglesâbeneath the exhaustion, frustration, and the endless cycle of unfinished storiesâthere is a refuge that has never left us. A place within that remains untouched, waiting patiently to be noticed.
Across traditions, this inner sanctuary is described in many ways. In Christianity, it is the peace that passeth understanding, the quiet presence of the Holy Spirit that calms the heart. In Buddhism, it is our Buddha nature, the still, pristine mind that shines beneath our thoughts. In Jewish practice, Shabbat offers a sacred pause from the worldâs demands, a time to rest in the presence of the I AM. Whether through Vipassanaâs gentle observation, Samathaâs calming focus, or the surrender of âLet go and let God,â the invitation is the same: to rest in the peace that is always there, even if just for a moment.
But hereâs the truth that many of us donât expectâwhen we set the intention to relax, to find that peace, itâs common for our minds to do the exact opposite. The very moment we try to slow down, all the unsettled thoughts, worries, and frustrations rise to the surface. Itâs like sitting down to meditate and suddenly realizing just how noisy the mind really is. For those of us with ME/CFS, this can feel especially overwhelming. Our bodies are already weighed down by fatigue, and now our minds seem unwilling to give us the rest we crave.
But this isnât a sign of failureâitâs part of the process. Just as clouds drift across the sky without altering the vastness behind them, our thoughts come and go without touching the deeper peace within us. The key is not to fight these thoughts, not to grow frustrated or discouraged, but to witness them with gentle curiosity. To let them rise and fall, trusting that underneath the noise, the stillness remains.
This practice takes more than just patienceâit requires self-compassion. We have to be kind to ourselves, especially when the mind feels restless or when peace feels far away. Forgiveness becomes a part of the journey: forgiving ourselves for not feeling better, for being frustrated, for wishing things were different. And most of all, it requires surrender. To let go of the need to control how or when peace arrives, and to trust that it will reveal itself in its own time.
Over the past month, Iâve faced one challenge after anotherâthe sale of my RV, packing up a home that had been my refuge for over 30 years, and the physical demands of moving into a new apartment. Each step of the process required me to push beyond my bodyâs natural limits, triggering post-exertional malaise. There were moments I had to override the signals of fatigue just to get through the next task, knowing full well the cost it would bring later. And yet, I approached it as mindfully as I could, listening when possible, resting when needed, and trusting that I would eventually return to the gentle rhythm of proper pacing.
Now, as I settle into this new space, I look forward to reclaiming that mindful practice of pacingâof finding the balance between effort and rest, between doing and simply being. Even though my body is still recovering, I know that the peace Iâm seeking is not dependent on my circumstances. Itâs always there, beneath the surface, waiting for me to slow down, to breathe, and to notice.
And so, I offer this to youâwhether you live with ME/CFS, face chronic challenges, or are simply navigating the complexities of life. The path to peace isnât always smooth, and the mind may resist at first. But beneath the noise, the frustration, and the exhaustion, there is a refuge that has never left you. Itâs not something you have to create or chaseâitâs already there, waiting to be noticed.
Let go. Be kind to yourself. Trust the process.
And when you least expect it, that peaceâthe one that passeth understanding, that shines with the light of your Buddha nature, that whispers with the breath of the Holy Spiritâwill rise to meet you.
Because the truth is, that refuge is never truly out of reach.
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