“Meditation is a state of being, not merely a practice.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn
At one point, I was convinced I was incapable of meditating.
I explored various texts and came to recognize its benefits. The understanding that concentrating on my breath could foster tranquility, awareness, and genuineness resonated with me intellectually.
However, every attempt resulted in anxiety.
My thoughts raced, and I felt vulnerable. The stillness was less about serenity and more about confronting an emotion that felt unmanageable.
Thus, I ceased my efforts.
For an extended period, I interpreted this as a personal deficiency. That I didn’t possess the necessary self-discipline. That while others understood the essence of presence, I remained lost.
Then, an unexpected moment transformed my perspective on focus.
A Moment That Demanded Nothing From Me
I found myself on a familiar park trail, strolling with minimal awareness. My husband was caring for our children that late afternoon, yet my body felt overwhelmed.
It was a challenging period—more lingering exhaustion than overt sadness.
Worn out from the challenges of early motherhood and lacking a support system, each day passed with nowhere to find peace. The outside world was chaotic, and my inner experience felt fragile.
I stopped beside a tree and noticed a leaf. It wasn’t extraordinary, just a leaf. But I halted.
I remained there longer than anticipated, noticing how the light interacted with its surface, the veins, and its gentle movement in the breeze.
I wasn’t making an effort to focus or calm my mind, nor was I following my breath.
I was simply observing.
In that observation, something within me softened.
No monumental revelations appeared. But I was present in my body and the moment—without effort.
When I eventually moved on, my shoulders felt looser. My breath was steadier. The usual tension had dissipated slightly.
It remained with me.
What Made This Experience Different
I recognized that this form of attention—natural, soft, outward—was distinct from my previous struggles.
Sitting still with my eyes shut felt like diving inward too soon.
Being surrounded by nature posed no expectations. It provided something to engage with.
I came to understand that I didn’t need to