Finding Calm Amidst Chaos

Being a magazine editor can feel like juggling a dozen tasks while standing on a moving treadmill. Some days, it is exhilarating—the thrill of seeing a new issue come together, finding the perfect story, and crafting just the right headline. But other days, it is overwhelming. Lately, those overwhelming days had started to outnumber the exhilarating ones. The pressure of tight deadlines, a growing stack of manuscripts, and a seemingly endless stream of emails had begun to wear me down.

By the time the holiday season arrived in 2023, I was completely burned out. The holiday lights and decorations that usually brought me joy felt like distractions, reminding me of everything I had yet to accomplish. I was drowning in deadlines, and even the thought of taking a break seemed impossible. How could I relax when my to-do list seemed never-ending?

Then Christmas came, and with it, a small miracle—a gift I didn’t even know I needed. Claire handed me a neatly wrapped package, her smile suggesting she had something special in mind. Inside was a beautiful Newlam kalimba. I had heard of kalimbas before—small wooden instruments with metal tines that you pluck to make music—but I had never played one. Claire knew my love for unique items and thought I might enjoy it. She said, “It’s for when things get a little too much. Just try it.”

At first, I wasn't sure how to feel. The kalimba was small, fitting comfortably in my hands, and its natural wood finish felt earthy and inviting. I wasn’t a musician by any means, and the idea of making music felt intimidating. But I appreciated Claire’s thoughtfulness, and something about the simplicity of the instrument spoke to me. Later that night, when the quiet of Christmas settled over my apartment, I decided to give it a try.

The First Melodies

The first time I plucked a tine, I was surprised by the sound that emerged. It was soft, bright, and clear—like the ringing of a tiny bell. I played a few more tines, letting the notes blend together into a simple melody. It wasn’t anything elaborate, just a series of random notes, but it was soothing. The simplicity of the kalimba made it easy to lose myself in the music. There were no complex chords or techniques to master—just my thumbs moving gently over the tines, creating a melody that seemed to dance in the still air of my living room.

The more I played, the more I felt myself relaxing. The anxiety that had been weighing me down started to lighten, replaced by a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in weeks. It was as though the gentle sound of the kalimba was washing over me, carrying away all the stress and worry that had built up inside me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt at peace.

From that night on, the kalimba became my companion. It was small enough to sit on my coffee table, always within reach whenever I needed a break. Whenever the pressure of deadlines began to build or the stress of work became overwhelming, I would pick it up and let the soft, soothing notes fill the room. It became my way of pausing the chaos of life, even if just for a few minutes.

Playing the kalimba was like pressing the reset button on my emotions. It offered me an immediate sense of calm, a respite from the whirlwind of thoughts that constantly spun through my mind. I found myself looking forward to those moments of quiet, where it was just me and the music, nothing else. The kalimba allowed me to temporarily forget the mounting demands of my job and simply immerse myself in the pure, unadulterated joy of creating something beautiful.

Finding Calm in Chaos

The first few weeks of January were a whirlwind. The magazine was preparing for the next issue, and the pressure was at an all-time high. My inbox was overflowing, my to-do list seemed endless, and every day felt like a race against the clock. There were moments when I felt like I couldn't breathe, when the stress seemed to crush me under its weight. But now, I had the kalimba.

In the midst of all the chaos, I found myself turning to the kalimba more and more. I would take short breaks throughout the day, sitting by the window and letting my thumbs glide over the tines. The sound was always the same—soft, bright, and comforting. It was a gentle reminder that, no matter how hectic things got, there was always a way to find a moment of peace.

One afternoon, after a particularly stressful online meeting, which had become tense due to the upcoming magazine deadlines and conflicting ideas among the editorial team, I found myself sitting on the floor of my living room. The meeting, conducted over video, had been filled with technical glitches, delays, and heated disagreements over the direction of several articles. As a magazine editor, these discussions were part of the job, but this particular meeting had been especially draining, leaving me mentally exhausted and in need of a moment to decompress, I found myself sitting on the floor of my living room with the kalimba in my lap. I closed my eyes and started to play, letting the notes come naturally without overthinking it. As the music filled the room, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease, my breathing slowing to match the gentle rhythm of the melody. The kalimba’s sound was like a balm for my soul, soothing the raw edges of my anxiety and helping me find my center again.

It wasn’t just the sound that helped—it was the act of playing itself. There was something meditative about the repetitive motion of plucking the tines, the way each note seemed to flow seamlessly into the next. It forced me to focus on the present moment, to let go of the worries swirling around in my mind, and simply be. In those moments, it didn't matter how many deadlines loomed or how much work awaited me. All that mattered was the music—the simple, beautiful sound that brought everything else into perspective.

I began to understand that this simple instrument held an immense power. It wasn’t about mastering complex techniques or impressing anyone with my skill. It was about finding a sense of balance within myself. Playing the kalimba became a ritual, a way to unwind after a challenging day, a method to re-center myself when everything felt out of control. The more I played, the more I realized how much I needed those moments.

A New Routine

As the weeks went by, playing the kalimba became a part of my daily routine. Every morning, before I opened my laptop to start my workday, I would sit by the window with a cup of coffee and play a few melodies. It was my way of setting the tone for the day, reminding myself that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I could handle them. The gentle notes of the kalimba seemed to ground me, giving me a sense of calm that carried me through even the busiest days.

In the evenings, after a long day of editing and meetings, I would pick up the kalimba again. Sometimes, I would play for just a few minutes, letting the soft notes help me unwind. Other times, I would lose myself in the music for an hour or more, the gentle melodies filling the quiet of my apartment as the sun set outside. It became a form of self-care, a way to nurture my well-being amid the demands of work and life.

The more I played, the more I realized that the kalimba wasn’t just helping me manage my stress—it was helping me reconnect with myself. In the rush of deadlines and constant pressure to perform, I had lost touch with the things that brought me joy—the simple pleasures that made life meaningful. The kalimba reminded me of the importance of slowing down, of taking time to do something just because it felt good.

I began to notice the small changes that playing the kalimba brought into my life. My mornings became more intentional, and my evenings were no longer consumed by thoughts of unfinished tasks. There was a rhythm that formed—a gentle ebb and flow that made the challenges of the day seem less daunting. I found solace in those few minutes of playing, and it gradually became my favorite part of the day.

Sharing the Music

One of the most surprising aspects of my journey with the kalimba was how it brought me closer to the people around me. I had always been a bit shy about sharing my hobbies, especially anything involving music. I wasn’t a musician, and the idea of playing in front of others made me nervous. But there was something different about the kalimba. Its sound was so gentle, so unassuming, that it didn’t feel like I was putting on a performance. It felt like I was sharing a part of myself—a small piece of the peace I had found.

One evening, Claire came over for a visit. She had given me the kalimba, and I wanted to show her how much it had come to mean to me. We sat in the living room, a bottle of wine between us, and I picked up the kalimba. I started to play a simple melody I had been working on, and as the notes filled the room, I saw Claire’s face soften. She closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her lips, and when I finished, she looked at me and said, “That was beautiful, Sarah. I’m so glad you like it.”

From that moment on, I started to feel more comfortable sharing my music. I would bring the kalimba to gatherings with friends, playing quietly in the background while we talked and laughed. It wasn’t about being perfect or impressing anyone—it was about creating a space of calm and connection, about sharing something that had brought me so much comfort. And to my surprise, people seemed to love it. They would ask me to play, telling me how soothing the sound was and how it made them feel relaxed and at ease.

I even began to play in unexpected places. I took the kalimba to the park, to the beach, and even on small weekend trips. It became my companion wherever I went, a way to share the peace I found with others. Once, while playing at the park, a young mother and her child stopped to listen. The little girl’s face lit up, and she danced to the melody I was playing. It was a simple, joyous moment—a reminder that music, even in its simplest form, could bring people together.

The Healing Power of Music

The more I played the kalimba, the more I appreciated the healing power of music. It wasn’t just about the notes or melodies—it was about the way the music made me feel, the way it reached into the deepest parts of me and brought a sense of calm and clarity. There were days when I felt completely overwhelmed, when the pressure of work and life seemed unbearable. On those days, I would pick up the kalimba and play, letting the music wash over me, and slowly, the weight would begin to lift.

I started to notice the impact the kalimba was having on my overall well-being. I was sleeping better, my anxiety had lessened, and I felt more present in my daily life. The things that used to send me spiraling into stress—missed deadlines, difficult conversations, unexpected challenges—no longer felt as daunting. It wasn’t that the problems had disappeared, but rather that I had found a way to manage them, a way to find my calm amidst the storm.

The kalimba became a symbol of resilience for me. It was a reminder that even in the face of stress and uncertainty, I had the power to create something beautiful. Each note I played was a small act of defiance against the chaos—a way of reclaiming my peace. And in those moments of playing, I felt a sense of strength and clarity that carried me through even the most challenging days.

The healing aspect of playing the kalimba extended beyond the music itself. It became a daily affirmation of my resilience—a reminder that I had the ability to bring peace into my own life. I realized that this tiny instrument, with its gentle notes, had the power to heal my heart in ways I had never imagined. It wasn't just about finding calm in stressful moments; it was about embracing a new way of living—one where I prioritized my well-being and found joy in the simplest of things.

A Gift That Keeps Giving

As the months went by, the kalimba became more than just an instrument—it became a part of my life, a source of comfort and joy that I could always turn to. It was there for me in the quiet moments of the morning, as I sipped my coffee and watched the sun rise. It was there for me in the evenings, when the weight of the day threatened to pull me under. And it was there for me in moments of connection, when I shared my music with the people I cared about.

One weekend, I decided to take the kalimba to a nearby park. It was a beautiful spring day, and I found a quiet spot under a tree, the sun filtering through the leaves above. I started to play, the soft notes blending with the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze. As I played, I noticed a little girl standing a few feet away, watching me with wide eyes. I smiled at her, and she shyly came closer, her mother standing behind her.

“What is that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“It’s a kalimba,” I said, holding it out so she could see. “It’s like a thumb piano. Would you like to try?”

She looked up at her mom, who nodded with a smile, and then she sat down beside me. I showed her how to pluck the tines, and she giggled as the notes rang out, her small fingers creating a simple melody. Her mother thanked me, telling me how much her daughter loved music. As they walked away, I felt warmth spread through my chest. The kalimba had given me a moment of connection—a chance to share the joy of music with someone else.

Reflections

Looking back on the past year, I can’t help but feel grateful for that small, unexpected gift. The kalimba came into my life when I needed it most, when the weight of work and the pressures of life had left me feeling lost and disconnected. It gave me a way to find my calm, to reconnect with myself, and to share that sense of peace with those around me.

Being a magazine editor is still a challenging job. The deadlines are still tight, the workload is still heavy, and there are still days when I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. But now, I have something that helps me navigate the stress—something that reminds me to slow down, to breathe, and to find beauty in the small moments. The kalimba has become my anchor, a source of healing melodies that keep me grounded, even in the midst of chaos.

I often think about Claire and the thoughtfulness behind her gift. She saw what I couldn’t see at the time—that I needed something to help me find balance, to remind me of the importance of self-care. The kalimba was more than just a gift; it was a lifeline, a reminder that I wasn’t alone and that there was always a way to find my way back to myself.

The journey I’ve had with the kalimba over the past year has transformed me. It taught me that healing doesn’t always come in grand gestures or elaborate changes. Sometimes, healing comes in the form of a small instrument, a few gentle notes, and the courage to take a moment for yourself. It’s about finding beauty in simplicity, joy in the mundane, and peace in the chaos.

As I sit by the window now, the kalimba resting in my hands, I pluck a few tines, letting the notes fill the room. The world outside is still busy, still full of deadlines and responsibilities, but here, in this moment, there is peace. The music is soft and bright—a melody that speaks to my heart, reminding me that no matter how overwhelming life may feel, there is always a way to find my calm—one note at a time.