This morning, as I walked through the woods, I unexpectedly met a colleague and friend. After a warm greeting, she smiled and said, “I love reading your posts—you haven’t written one lately.” Her comment made me reflect on my approach to sharing. Writing, for me, isn’t a routine obligation; it’s something I do when inspiration strikes, when there’s a thought worth sharing.
She then asked, “What does it take to feel there’s something worth posting?” I paused. “It often starts with seeking,” I replied.
There’s nothing wrong with not being a seeker and focusing on goal-oriented, external milestones—like the next promotion, career advancement, or financial growth in a structured system.
Seeking, for me, holds a quality of an internal journey without arrival, like an intention, an orientation. Often, I meet clients in my practice who try to meet life’s challenges purely through external milestones, having all the answers and running faster. Yet the questions that life is confronting them with can only be faced (not even answered) by seeking a different internal orientation.
For me, seeking holds beneath the contentment a subtle desire to explore, to find something new. Seeking isn’t about rejecting the present moment; on the contrary, it’s about embracing the discomfort of uncertainty in the present moment and allowing it to reveal hidden treasures.
This morning was overcast and cold. The sun was absent, and the woods felt harsher without its warmth. Yet, as I walked and stood still, I noticed something extraordinary: the ice crystals from the previous night, shimmering with a beauty I had never fully appreciated before. It struck me that these small wonders often remain hidden when we’re only chasing the sun, the “perfect” conditions, or a sense of security.
In our fast-paced world, it’s tempting to seek escape—to find the sunny spot where everything feels more certain, comfortable, and safe. But I believe the true treasures of life, and the skills to navigate its complexities, often emerge when we stay very slow and present with discomfort. Instead of running from the cold or the clouds, what if we paused and allowed them to be? What if we explored the unease inside us with curiosity and compassion?
For me, this practice—of staying present with what is—has been transformative. It’s not always easy, nor is there any arrival. Uncertainty and discomfort can shake us, but they also shift our perspective and help us see life in new ways. Slowing down doesn’t mean passivity or inaction. Life isn’t about retreating to a cave and disconnecting from the world. Instead, it’s about engaging fully—staying in the middle of life’s marketplace—while also accepting that we can’t fully control where it leads.
Here’s the hard truth: we are not entirely the architects of our destinies and cannot always run away from the clouds. Yes, we can make good decisions, work hard, and strive for meaningful goals. But the major events in life—meeting a partner, raising children, finding opportunities—are often beyond our control.We cannot get life right, but only allow life to live us.
For some, this realization might feel unsettling. When you look at it from a different perspective, though, it’s a source of liberation. It gives us permission to slow down, breathe, and truly take in what life offers right now.
So, as we start a new day or a new week, here’s an invitation: What feels uncertain right now in your life? Can you stay with this thought or feeling for a bit without having an answer? How does it feel not to have an answer? What might you notice that you haven’t seen before? How do you relate to yourself during this little exploration?
Life doesn’t have to be (only) about cashing the next paycheck, climbing the corporate ladder, or outshining others. Maybe it’s also about discovering something beyond. Of course, this perspective might not resonate with everyone, and that’s entirely OK.
… For me, it’s an idea worth sharing.
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