That peace which is within us, we must experience it. And if we

Host: The lake lay still beneath the moonlight, its surface so calm it seemed to hold its breath. The air was cool and clear, carrying the faint scent of pine and the echo of something timeless — the hum of night insects, the ripple of distant water, the pulse of stillness itself.

A small cabin stood on the shore, its porch light dim, a lone beacon in the dark. Two figures sat there — Jack and Jeeny — wrapped in the slow rhythm of silence. The firepit between them glowed low, embers whispering like secrets not meant for the world.

Neither spoke for a long while. Then Jeeny broke the quiet, her voice soft and sure, blending into the wind:

"That peace which is within us, we must experience it. And if we are searching for peace outside we will never find the peace within." — Prem Rawat

The words drifted across the lake, rippling the air like gentle truth.

Jack leaned back, his eyes half-closed, watching the stars tremble faintly on the water’s mirrored surface.

Jack: “You make it sound simple.”

Jeeny: (smiling faintly) “It is simple. It’s just not easy.”

Jack: “That’s the paradox of peace, isn’t it? The moment you start chasing it, you scare it away.”

Jeeny: “Because chasing means wanting. And peace doesn’t come to the wanting mind.”

Jack: “Then what? We just sit here, waiting for it to fall from the sky?”

Jeeny: “No. We listen. To what’s already here.”

Jack: (half-sighing) “You sound like every monk I ever met who never had bills to pay.”

Jeeny: “And you sound like every man who believes struggle is proof of living.”

Host: The fire cracked softly, sending a faint spark spiraling upward before vanishing into the dark. The night seemed infinite, but intimate — as if the universe itself had leaned in to hear them.

Jack: “I’ve tried meditation. I’ve tried silence, breathing, mindfulness. It always feels forced. My thoughts don’t stop. They just get louder.”

Jeeny: “Because you keep trying to silence them. Peace isn’t about absence, Jack. It’s about harmony. Even noise can be peaceful if it’s accepted.”

Jack: (looking at her) “You think acceptance is peace?”

Jeeny: “I think peace begins when resistance ends.”

Jack: “Then what about all the people who live in chaos — warzones, poverty, heartbreak? Are you saying peace is just a state of mind?”

Jeeny: (gently) “No. I’m saying it’s a state of being that survives the mind. Even in war, even in loss — there are people who find stillness because they stop fighting what they can’t change.”

Jack: “That sounds like surrender.”

Jeeny: “It is. But surrender isn’t defeat — it’s trust. The kind that lets you breathe without needing the world’s permission.”

Host: A faint breeze moved across the lake, stirring the reflections of the stars. For a moment, it looked as if the heavens themselves had rippled. Jack followed the movement with his eyes — mesmerized, thoughtful.

Jack: “You ever actually felt that kind of peace? The kind that doesn’t depend on anything?”

Jeeny: (after a pause) “Once.”

Jack: “When?”

Jeeny: “When my father died.”

Jack: (surprised) “That’s... not what I expected.”

Jeeny: “I didn’t either. I was standing next to him. The machines had gone quiet. My whole world was supposed to collapse. But instead — there was stillness. Not numbness. Just... stillness. Like everything in me stopped running. That’s when I realized peace isn’t found in the absence of pain. It’s what holds you while the pain passes through.”

Host: Jack looked at her, his expression softening. The firelight flickered across his face — a map of shadows and reflection.

Jack: “You always make peace sound alive.”

Jeeny: “It is. It breathes. It moves. But we drown it with our noise — our fears, ambitions, expectations. We build storms and then blame the wind.”

Jack: “So you’re saying the world doesn’t take peace from us. We give it away.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. We trade it for validation. For attention. For the illusion of control.”

Jack: (chuckling) “Then we spend the rest of our lives trying to buy it back with retreats and therapy.”

Jeeny: “Because we forgot it was never for sale.”

Host: The night deepened, the stars sharper now — cold points of eternity looking down on two small humans trying to make sense of themselves. Somewhere, a loon called across the water, its cry haunting and beautiful.

Jack: “You know, I used to think peace was something you had to earn. Like an achievement. You work, you sacrifice, you discipline yourself — and one day, you reach it.”

Jeeny: “That’s ambition pretending to be wisdom.”

Jack: “Then what is peace, really?”

Jeeny: “It’s the space between breaths. The pause before you react. The forgiveness that doesn’t ask for applause. It’s not something you reach. It’s what you return to — when you finally stop leaving.”

Host: Jack leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice lower now, thoughtful.

Jack: “You think that’s why we’re always restless? Because we keep leaving ourselves behind?”

Jeeny: “Yes. We keep searching for peace in politics, religion, possessions — everywhere outside the heart. But peace doesn’t live in the headlines, Jack. It lives in the quiet corners of your own being.”

Jack: “Then why do we keep forgetting?”

Jeeny: “Because we confuse peace with comfort. And the world’s very good at selling comfort.”

Jack: “You’re saying peace can hurt?”

Jeeny: “Sometimes. Because it shows you the truth — that most of what you chase doesn’t matter.”

Host: The fire had burned down to glowing embers. The lake was perfectly still again, the stars steady in its mirror.

Jeeny leaned back, her eyes on the horizon where darkness met dawn.

Jeeny: “You know, I think that’s what Prem Rawat meant — that if you search for peace in the world, you’ll miss the miracle of already having it inside you. It’s like searching the ocean for water.”

Jack: (smiling faintly) “So the journey’s inward, not outward.”

Jeeny: “Always. The longest pilgrimage you’ll ever make is from your mind to your heart.”

Jack: “And when you get there?”

Jeeny: “You stop asking what peace is. You just live it.”

Host: The first light of dawn began to bloom over the water, faint streaks of gold breaking the black. The world was waking — birds stirring, air shifting, the promise of another chance to begin again.

Jack watched the light touch the lake’s surface. He looked peaceful now — not because the world had changed, but because he had stopped wrestling with it.

Jack: “You think it lasts?”

Jeeny: “Peace?” (smiles) “No. It comes and goes like breath. But that’s enough. You don’t hold peace — you visit it.”

Jack: “And then?”

Jeeny: “You build your life around remembering the way back.”

Host: The sun rose fully now, spilling light across the still water. The fire’s last embers dimmed, surrendering to day.

Jack and Jeeny sat in silence — no words, no philosophy, just the soft, sacred feeling of being.

And in that golden moment, Prem Rawat’s words seemed to echo through the dawn itself:

"That peace which is within us, we must experience it. And if we are searching for peace outside, we will never find the peace within."

The world outside was still full of noise — politics, hunger, struggle — but the lake remained unshaken.

And so did they.

Because for once, peace wasn’t something to chase.
It was something they’d remembered —
and returned to,
together,
within.