So much of who we think we are comes from the noise in our own minds. We live countless experiences that never actually happen — only imagined, rehearsed, or worried into existence. How many of those thoughts have triggered emotions that felt real? And of those emotions, how many truly served our well-being?
Lately, I’ve been trying something simple: the practice of right now.
When my mind starts wandering, I ask, is this right now?
Going on a trip in two weeks — great, but is that right now?
Tomorrow’s schedule full of meetings — sure, but is that right now?
Each time I ask, my thoughts slow, the fog lifts, and I return to what’s actually happening — the breath, the moment, the life beneath my thoughts.
When I was in rehab, I remember being consumed with anxiety about everything — where my life was headed, what my family thought, whether my job would understand. My mind spun in every direction, but my body couldn’t go anywhere. I could only be where I was. In some ways, I felt stuck. But looking back, I think it was God trying to teach me something simple but profound: be where you are.
I needed to heal. I needed to be with the others seeking the same. That was the assignment.
I remember one Tuesday, we walked to a local park for exercise. The staff gave us a basketball, and we started shooting hoops. My first thought was, this is stupid. It’s Tuesday, it’s a work week — what are grown adults doing at the park at 11 a.m. shooting baskets? But then something shifted. I got into the rhythm — the sound of the ball, the laughter, the sun on my face. For that moment, nothing else mattered. Shooting baskets in a park at 11 a.m. was the activity.
It wasn’t a spiritual breakthrough, but it was real. For once, I wasn’t somewhere else in my head. I wasn’t chasing tomorrow. I was right there — and in that moment, I realized, this is where I’m supposed to be. With God. With myself. Regardless of the environment, regardless of what corporate America would think — I was exactly where I needed to be.
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
– Matthew 6:34
Closing Reflection:
We often think surrender is an act of weakness — but maybe it’s the most powerful move we can make. The basketball court that Tuesday morning wasn’t about the game; it was about grace. It was the moment I stopped fighting time and started living inside it. God’s peace doesn’t arrive when everything makes sense — it comes when we finally stop resisting where we are.
