Being Present

Coming home from our Canadian road trip—one I haven’t experienced since I was five—I feel something I don’t usually feel at this time of year: peace.

Usually, this is when the anxiety starts creeping in. School is approaching. Schedules go from almost nonexistent to overflowing. Life speeds up so quickly that sometimes it feels like there isn’t even room to take a breath.

But this summer, being on the road gave me permission to slow down.

For two weeks, I had the chance to simply be present—with my husband, with family, with Mother Nature, and with myself.

It was exciting to see landscapes so different from the familiar views of Saskatchewan. I felt the sunshine on my face. I listened to the haunting call of the loons across the water. I sat on decks and beaches and listened to…nothing. Just the water, the wind, the birds, and the stillness.

And somewhere along the way, I was reminded of how much energy I spend living anywhere but the present.

I spend a lot of time worrying about what might happen next—all the things I need to do, everything I need to prepare for, and sometimes the negative things that could happen and how I might protect myself from them.

I also spend a lot of time looking backward. I replay things I cannot change. I wonder how I could have done things differently. Sometimes I worry that difficult experiences from the past might somehow repeat themselves.

That constant tug-of-war between the past and the future doesn’t leave much room for right now.

Listening to the loons was one of my favorite being present experiences!

Ironically, we spent a lot of our two-week adventure sitting in a vehicle, travelling from one place to another. Yet the trip felt filled with opportunities to simply be.

Be with my partner.

Be with family.

Be with nature.

Be with me.

I took pictures. I listened to music. I read books. I told stories. I watched sunsets and sat beside the water. I noticed the world around me instead of always thinking about what was coming next.

It was good for my soul.

Now I’m home, and I know the world around me is about to speed up again. The calendar will fill. The routines will return. There will always be another thing to do, another thing to plan for, and another reason to look ahead.

But before all of that happens, I want to hold onto what this summer reminded me:

The past has already happened.

The future will come when it comes.

But my life is happening right now.

And I don’t want to miss it.

Christopher and I in Black Lake - check out those smiles!