Now: Where Peace Lives

From the peace and quiet that has become my sanctuary through meditation, I could observe with clarity. The stillness allows me to watch my emotions unfold without being consumed by them; just like watching waves from the shore rather than being tossed in them. Recent hurt had left its mark, and yes – I did get pulled into the waves of emotion at first. I felt the disappointment, saw myself slipping into familiar perspectives of feeling dismissed and misunderstood. But something was different this time. Thanks to my meditation practice, I noticed when I was getting sucked into these patterns.

I stood at a crossroads. One path led down the familiar spiral of frustration and sadness – a pattern I knew too well from previous hurts. The other path, less traveled but more promising, offered present-moment peace. The choice became clear: I could either be sucked into pain or choose happiness.

Despite feeling dismissed, misunderstood, and disrespected, I found courage in surrender. Not surrender as defeat, but as acceptance – giving myself permission to let go of what I couldn’t control. This wasn’t about dismissing valuable lessons or ignoring genuine emotions. Instead, it was about choosing to be present rather than dwelling in past hurts.

I realized something powerful about past hurts – they only exist in our memory now. The actual moment of hurt has already passed. What I’m feeling in this present moment isn’t the hurt itself, but my mind’s echo of it. The experience that caused such pain isn’t happening right now; it’s my thoughts about it that keep it alive.

From my place of clarity, I could see that dwelling in past hurts is like watching the same painful movie over and over in my mind. While the original experience was real, my present moment is free from it – unless I choose to replay it. Each moment offers a new beginning, a chance to choose peace over replaying pain.

Sometimes this choice feels hard. These patterns have a pull, trying to drag me into darkness very stealthily. I have found a simple anchor to help myself out: to breathe and ask myself,
“Is everything good right now, in this very moment? “
Right here, right now, in this breath, things are actually okay.

My meditation practice helped me understand: the present moment is always free from past hurts. It’s our thoughts about the past that create constant suffering. When I truly grasp this, I can choose to rest in the peace of now rather than reliving what’s already finished.

What I’ve learned is profound yet simple:

My mental well-being matters. I don’t have to bend myself into uncomfortable shapes to accommodate situations beyond my control. Like a river finding its natural course, I can flow with what feels organic and true to my nature.

I have learned to listen to the voice in my heart that guides me toward what feels best for me. There’s a difference between being accommodating and bending backwards at the cost of my peace. I choose to go with the flow of what feels natural and organic, even if that means some relationships or situations might need to shift.

In this moment of clarity, I feel free. There’s no judgement to give or receive. Life flows through me like a river, and I’ve chosen to stop swimming against its current. I understand that protecting my peace isn’t just a right – it’s a responsibility I have to myself.

Clearing Space

For years, clouds of self-doubt and old trauma shaped how I saw myself. Like many of us, I had built walls around my possibilities before even trying, gave up too soon, or got distracted in my life challenges.

As time went by, I began to understand something crucial. I understood focusing inward on our limitations becomes the very box that confines us. We create these boundaries by constantly defining ourselves by what we think we can’t do.

It wasn’t until I explored meditation that I realized these boundaries were not fixed; they could dissolve with a shift in perspective in simply being. As I learned to sit with whatever each moment brought, something unexpected happened. The walls I had built began to dissolve. By not fighting against what was, space naturally opened. In this space, I discovered parts of myself that had always been there, just waiting to be noticed. My writing, a calling, started to take shape and words started to flow with ease.

This personal discovery led me to a broader realization. Every human carries unique gifts – some obvious, others hidden behind our self-imposed limitations. Whether we’re young or in our later years, we often live within the confines of our own definitions. The question isn’t “What are we capable of?” but rather “What stories are we telling ourselves that keep us small?”

Reading Marie Kondo’s words about clearing space echoed my experience. Just as she helps people clear physical clutter to discover what truly matters, I found that clearing mental clutter revealed gifts I never knew I had and gave me clarity in what I needed to do.

In clearing my mental clutter, I rediscovered a part of myself that had faded away – my passion for writing. What started as a dormant interest has blossomed into both a calling and a craft. Through this journey, I’ve learned that clearing space is not just about letting go; it’s about making room for who we are meant to become.

And so I ask you: What box have you placed yourself in and how does it hold you back? What passion or dreams quietly talk to you? What stories about “I can’t” or “I’m not good enough” are keeping you from taking the next step?