Ask most surgeons why they became surgeons and they usually tell you the same thing. It was for the high, the rush, the thrill that comes from cutting someone open and saving their life. For me it was different, maybe it was because I grew up in a house with four sisters. No, definitely because I grew up in a house with four sisters because it was the quiet that drew me to surgery. The operating room is a quiet place. Peaceful. It has to be in order for us to stay alert, anticipate complications. When you stand in the OR, your patient open on the table, all the worlds noise, all the worry that it brings disappears. A calm settles over you, time passing without thought. For that moment, you feel completely at peace. Ask most surgeons why they became surgeons and they usually tell you the same thing. The high, the rush, the thrill of the cut. For me it was the quiet. Peace isn't a permanent state. It exists in moments. Fleeting. Gone before we knew it was there. We can experience it at any time, in a stranger's act of kindness, a task that requires complete focus or simply the comfort of an old routine. Everyday we all experience these moments of peace. The trick is to know when they're happening so that we can embrace them, live in them. And finally let them go.