We are always reaching, always chasing, always looking toward some imagined horizon where everything will finally make sense. The perfect job, the perfect relationship, the perfect body, the perfect bank balance, the perfect home. A place where all the chaos settles, and we arrive.
We live in a world obsessed with destinations. We are told from a young age that life is a path, a journey toward some distant place where we will finally feel whole, satisfied, and complete. That “place” might be success, wealth, love, enlightenment, or a peaceful retirement by the sea.
But what if there is no “there”?
What if we have been conditioned to believe in a mirage—an illusion that once we reach some undefined pinnacle, all will be well, and we will finally breathe easy? The truth is, whenever we get to where we thought we wanted to be, there’s always another peak in the distance, another valley to cross, another dream to chase. Life is not a straight line leading to fulfillment; it is a continual unfolding of moments—now here or nowhere, depending on how we choose to see it.
If you take the word nowhere and break it apart, you get now here. It’s a simple shift in perspective but one that holds the key to everything. All we ever have is now, and all we ever are is here. The past is a memory, the future is an idea, and neither exist beyond this exact moment.
So why do we spend so much of our lives trying to get somewhere else?
The Illusion of Arrival
Society sells us the idea that fulfillment is a place, a destination, an achievement. But if you’ve ever actually reached one of your long-awaited goals, you know the truth: the moment is fleeting. You celebrate, you exhale, you might even feel deeply satisfied: for a while. But then, a new mountain appears. A new desire forms. The horizon moves again.
It’s not that striving is wrong. Growth is part of the human experience, and the journey itself is beautiful. But the belief that happiness, peace, or fulfillment live at the peak of some future moment is a lie. Because once you climb a mountain, what do you see? More mountains. More valleys. More paths to take. And you keep moving.
Some mountains you climb alone. Some, you climb with a group of friends who become family along the way. Some trails are celebrations, filled with laughter and music. Others are quiet, solitary walks through deep valleys. And then there are those sacred climbs where the silence is so profound it feels like the universe itself is whispering to you.
The journey never ends. And that is exactly why we must learn to love the moment we are in.
The Sacred Connection to Soul
What if the soul doesn’t care about arrival? What if our essence, the deepest part of who we are, only exists in presence?
Think of the most meaningful moments in your life—not the ones you planned, but the ones that caught you off guard. The laugh that turned into tears. The unexpected kindness of a stranger. The morning light hitting your coffee cup just right. The night you lay on your back staring at the stars, watching satellites drift silently across the sky, feeling both infinitely small and deeply connected to it all.
These moments are sacred because they are now.
Your soul is not waiting for you at the next peak. It’s whispering to you here, in the space between thoughts, in the quiet of your breath, in the rhythm of your bare feet pressing into the earth.
Practicing Presence: Small Rituals, Big Impact
Mindfulness doesn’t have to be a grand, time-consuming practice. It’s not about escaping to a monastery or meditating for hours (though if that’s your thing, go for it). It’s about simple, intentional ways to root yourself in the now. Here are three daily practices that help cultivate presence:
1. Barefoot on the Grass with a Banana
Every day, I take a banana and walk barefoot on the grass. It sounds simple, even silly, but it’s a ritual that pulls me into my body. The sensation of the earth beneath my feet, the taste of the banana, the air on my skin—it reminds me that I am alive, not just a mind running in circles. This is a grounding practice, literally connecting you to the earth and figuratively pulling you out of the endless loop of thoughts about somewhere else.
2. Staring at the Stars, Finding Satellites
At night, I try to look up. Not at a screen, not at the endless distractions of modern life, but at the vast sky above me. I search for satellites drifting across the darkness, for stars that have been burning for millions of years. It’s a reminder that my worries, my ambitions, my “there” is small in the grand scheme of things. Not insignificant—but small enough that I can relax a little, breathe a little deeper, and exist without the constant need to strive.
3. The “This Is It” Practice
Throughout the day, pause and tell yourself: This is it.
Not in a this is all there is? kind of way, but in a this moment is enough way. Washing the dishes? This is it. Laughing with a friend? This is it. Sitting in traffic, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders? This is it. This practice trains your mind to stop resisting the present moment and instead see it for what it is: sacred, fleeting, real.
Living Without a Destination
Of course, it’s okay to dream. It’s okay to set goals, to move forward, to seek new experiences. But do it knowing that the point was never to arrive.
The point is to be here while you go.
If we live always waiting for “there,” we will miss the sacred, messy, beautiful now. The laughter, the grief, the lessons, the sunsets, the random Tuesday afternoons where nothing extraordinary happens—but somehow, in that nothingness, we catch a glimpse of what it means to truly be alive.
So walk barefoot. Eat your banana. Look at the stars. Climb your mountains. Dance with your companions. Sit in your valleys. And most of all, remember:
There is no there.
There is only now here.
