Calmness emanates from my core.

Walk into an old stone church on a hot day. Outside, the temperature has swung fifteen degrees since morning; inside it has moved by about two. The walls are thick enough that most of the weather simply never arrives.

Something similar runs underneath a person. It is not the same as feeling calm — you can be thoroughly rattled and still find, on looking, that something at the bottom has not moved. It is what got you dressed on the worst morning of last year. Steady is not the absence of storm. It is the part the storm does not reach.