Serenity for a Low, Low Price

by Crystal Wood

I don't know about you, but serenity is stressing me out.

It's everywhere. From yoga to massage to eucalyptus-scented bubble bath, serenity has become one of the biggest social and commercial crazes of the twenty-first century. Suddenly, it's not only necessary for our time-crunched culture to seek out serenity, it's cool, too.

It's no secret that we've become busier than ever, balancing kids, careers, social lives and a number of other obligations. We thought the emergence of the digital age would ease our stress, with cell phones and electronic organizers designed to do our work for us. Instead, they've only added to our frustrations by giving us crabby salespeople, huge credit card bills... and the jury's still out on cancer. With all of these frustrations, I don't have time to think about finding serenity, too!

Thankfully for us, proprietors have taken notice of the serenity trend, and now sell a number of products designed to create calm-enhancing experiences. An amazon.com search for self-help books with the word "Serenity" in the title yields more than 4,397 titles. It seems the experts have literally written the book on serenity.

A number of stores now sell sleep machines that will lull you into a stupor with the relaxing sound of the ocean. There are bubble baths that come in a wide range of "Calm", "Serene" and "Tranquil." (And the difference is...?) You can complete your bubble bath experience with a cushioning bath pillow, a CD entitled "Music to Meditate To" and serenity-scented candles. (Serenity-scented? What exactly does serenity smell like?)

There has also been a noticeable increase in yoga classes, message therapy and spa treatments. Spas have taken a cue from farm animals by encouraging clients to take a dip in mud. It must work--pigs always look so calm and relaxed. I actually gave the yoga thing a try for a while, but found it left me with more stress, not less. I don't know about you, but trying to get my ankle to touch my ear does not leave me with a sense of peace.

I'm a shopping junkie myself, so I'm never going to tell anyone that money won't buy happiness. My question is: who decided you can put a label on serenity? (If that's the case, I'll also take that jar of spiritual enlightenment over there, and are you having any sales on perfect bodies this week?) I was under the impression that serenity was a mind-body connection, not a convenience that can be bought, or achieved through gym classes scheduled twice a week.

With our already busy lives, do we really have time to go after someone else's prepackaged idea of tranquility? I'd like to think that most of us are aware of the things in life that bring us happiness, even though we might not have time to enjoy them more than once a month.

Buying shoes makes me happy, even if I do have to face the odd credit card balance. Eating ice cream makes me happy. You don't have to call it "serenity ice cream" to get me to eat it. Watching endless reruns of "Family Guy" makes me happy, and I'll bet you won't find that in any self-help book.

Before indulging in serenity retail therapy, we should probably instead take notice of the ways we've been making ourselves happy for years. Who knows? A little self-reflection might take less time than a trip to the scented candle aisle of the supermarket.

The Author

Crystal Wood is a freelance writer based in Winnipeg, Canada. Her articles have appeared in many publications, including Oxygen Magazine. She discovered writing at a young age, and is looking forward to the day when she can quit working a regular job and write screenplays full-time. She finds it strange and alarming that her girlfriends would rather spend money on shoes than on books.