Peace Isn’t Always Poetic: Contributor Spotlight on John B. Grimes

1. What does “peace” mean to you personally?

Peace, to me, isn’t the absence of pain or problems. It’s the ability to live with what is, even when it’s not what you planned. It’s that moment when you stop white-knuckling your way through life and learn to exhale. Peace is knowing you don’t have to fix everything to move forward.

2. What is one way you actively practice peace in your daily life?

I practice peace by being honest with myself about what I can and can’t control. When something frustrates me—like not seeing something clearly, literally or figuratively—I pause, breathe, and recalibrate. Peace usually follows right behind patience, even if it shows up fashionably late.

3. Your story in The Peace Guidebook touches on adapting to a new reality. Why was it important for you to share that experience?

Because nobody tells you how disorienting it is when your body stops cooperating and the world keeps moving. I wanted to show that peace isn’t always poetic. Sometimes it looks like awkward trial and error, uncomfortable tools, and learning to laugh at what used to make you cry. Sharing my story is my way of reminding others they’re not broken—they’re becoming.

4. What advice would you give someone who feels peace is impossible right now?

Don’t try to “achieve” peace like it’s a to-do list item. Just find one thing—one breath, one moment, one small truth—you can accept today. Peace doesn’t knock down your door. It sneaks in when you stop slamming it shut.

5. What’s one small action anyone can take today to leave their Peace Print in the world? Assume someone is doing their best, even if it doesn’t look like it. That quiet grace we give others leaves a bigger mark than we think. Bonus points if you offer it to yourself, too.

6. If you could pass peace to one person, group, or place in the world today, who would it be—and why?

I’d pass peace to anyone waking up in a hospital bed, confused, scared, and unsure what comes next. That space between survival and understanding is lonely. I’ve been there. If I could, I’d place a hand on their shoulder and say, “You’re still here. That’s enough for today.