‘Wherever you go, there you are.’ This is the title of a 2005 book by author, Jon Kabat-Zinn. At the time, I’d become increasingly interested in the concept of mindfulness.

If you’re curious, as I was, you can read more about Kabat-Zinn’s book here: https://www.amazon.com/Wherever-You-There-Are-Mindfulness/dp/1401307787.

For whatever reason, I found myself restless, in search of something to help settle my mind. Just four years into a career post-Master’s degree, I sensed that God wanted to expand aspects of my life. However, I wasn’t sure what that meant or what to do.

I’d always considered myself to be a highly focused and ambitious person, likely a combination of my natural temperament and environmental expectations. So you can imagine the difficulty I experienced when I struggled to focus my ambitions and quiet myself long enough to hear God’s voice. Ever been there?

Here’s how Kabat-Zinn defined mindfulness: “paying attention [to the world] in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally.”

This was a bit obscure for me at the time. So let me share my own interpretation.

Wherever you go, there you are.

Because of this truth, we must focus our minds in the present — with all of its triumphs and heartaches, joy and sadness, chaos and stillness. We can’t change what’s already happened. And we can’t control what lies ahead.

All we have is right now.

The audacity and simplicity of this truth offered me great comfort in 2005. While I felt the pull towards more, I also needed to embrace what I had in the moment. And after surrendering to this newfound space, the path presented itself more clearly. As a result, I transitioned back into the academic environment, beginning a doctoral program that would shift my life in unexpected and adventurous ways.

As life would have it, however, I had no idea how valuable this six-word mantra would become just seven years later, a time I’d confront my mom’s terminal cancer diagnosis and subsequent death. Little did I know how much I’d need to lean into each breath, each sensation in my body, each word that flowed from my mom’s mouth, and each whisper from God’s loving heart to my broken one.

Taken together, mindfulness anchored me in the midst of life’s greatest blow.

Day by day, I began to shift away from strict adherence to my ‘to-do’ lists. On the contrary, I paused to consider what might be more important in the moment. In addition, I began to discipline myself to observe what was happening both in and around me. From heart check to subsequent heart check, I discovered a few things.

• First, I realized my leaning towards activities to drown out the noise of life. Don’t get me wrong, friend! Nothing’s inherently bad about distraction via NetFlix or video games or sleep. At the same time, there comes a point in our journey where we must face life’s happenings head on. For me, it was acknowledging my restlessness, asking tough spiritual questions, and addressing a sea of emotions raging inside as I grieved.

• Second, I came face-to-face with my lack of control. This was a tough realization! (Yes, I’m a recovering control addict!) Whether career or family and friends or death, I finally reached my emotional, physical, and spiritual capacity. In other words, I came to the end of myself. And strangely enough, acknowledging this was quite freeing. I could create goals, study, and do my best to reach higher heights. I could pray for my mom’s cancer to disappear. Nevertheless, my doing this wasn’t a guarantee that life would be peachy keen. Unfortunately, there are no guarantees.

• Third, focusing on mindfulness shifted me away from ‘doing’ and towards ‘being.’ As I sat with my mom in the weeks preceding her death, it became clearer to me that I couldn’t do anything to help her. Of course, I gently massaged her deteriorating body, prayed with her, and rubbed cool towels on her forehead to aid in her comfort. Nevertheless, it was the witnessing of her life and sharing of stories that offered her the most peace. The greatest weapon I carry in my life arsenal is the ability to simply be present. Not only is it a gift that benefits others, but it’s also a gift to me.

Wherever you go, there you are.

Friend, at some point in your life, you may begin to wonder, “Will things always be this way?” In addition, you might be asking yourself now, “Will I always be this way?” Perhaps you’re feeling overwhelmed, angry, irritable, or disconnected. Maybe you, like I did, feel, restless about what’s on the horizon. Trust me, I get it! You might be navigating grief, uncertain about how you’ll survive life’s emotional depths.

Embracing what you have now can help bring you back to yourself. As you begin to observe both things happening around you, along with the rises and falls within you, something shifts. (FYI, in case you’re wondering … creating space to be present with yourself isn’t an abandonment of losses you’ve experienced).

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Just this morning, as I sat in my backyard sipping a hot cup of hazelnut coffee, I came back to myself. I fought and won the battle to start my day focused on tasks. Instead of scrolling through a host of e-mails and reviewing my planner, I chose to close my eyes and listen instead. The pitter patter of my Beagle’s nails against the concrete patio, sounds of shifting birds in the trees, and the monotony of my own heartbeat filled the space.

It felt nice to return home, yet again.

What would it look like for you to do the same?

Remember … wherever you go, there you are.

As always, I’d love to hear from you. Do me a favor, and leave a comment below. ⬇️

XOXO,

M.

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