EDITOR'S NOTE: Russell V. Palmore Jr., a Richmond attorney and chancellor of the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia, died unexpectedly this month at 64. He wrote this piece last year for the newsletter of his church, St. Paul's Episcopal Church, and his family gave The Times-Dispatch permission to republish it.
An item in a recent issue of The New Yorker said, "Technology has given us 24/7 lives .
Some years ago, a college professor asked students in her psychology course what they desired most in their post-collegiate years. The responses were predictable: a successful career, happy marriage, children/grandchildren, a comfortable retirement. Without a hint of judgment, the professor simply wrote on the chalkboard, "What about 'peace of mind?' "
I recall a job interview during my last year of law school. I was meeting with a young partner and an associate at a firm where both practiced general civil litigation — exactly what I was interested in pursuing. During the conversation, I mentioned how busy I had been with studying, course work and research. The attorneys looked at each other and winced; they told me that "busy" would take on a more elevated meaning once I began practicing law.
Last week, as I read a meditation, I was reminded of that incident in the small conference room in Charlottesville 35 years ago. The meditation discussed how prayer lightens the load of an overcrowded schedule. I agree. But I think it's more than being busy. There is also this issue about stress — sometimes "24/7 stress."
While busyness and stress are often related, they also can be mutually exclusive. That is, there are times when I am very busy but feel a relative peace of mind, and other times when work and daily activities are reasonably calm but I feel immense pressure.
I find that lawyers, by and large, have a much easier time acknowledging their busyness than their lack of inner peace. We are too proud or reluctant to let down our emotional guard. After all, lawyers like giving answers and modeling confidence and certainty. And at times, that image carries beyond the office or the courtroom and into our homes with our families and friends.
Consider the image recorded in Psalm 75: "Do not toss your horns so high, nor speak with a proud neck." That strikes a chord.
I can instinctively toss horns high and speak with proud arrogance. Why? I think it's a defense mechanism. So often it's a response to not only being busy, but also feeling some kind of pressure or stress that has nothing to do with my job. But spending a disproportionate amount of my time at work, it is there where I most often experience that lack of peace of mind. It's where faith becomes "a port in the storm" for me.
Whether blindsided by despair or resentment or grief or anger or envy or hopelessness .
How do I experience my faith in my work? I experience it as an emotional antidote and spiritual balm, when tossed horns and a proud, stiff neck are not getting the job done.
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