Question for today: How are you doing with making time to just be? Is it difficult, and what could you do better?
Answer for me:
Allowing myself to just be can feel long and arduous. I know that sounds counterintuitive, but it’s surprisingly difficult to do nothing—or at least to make space in my life for being unproductive. Notice I didn’t say “lazy,” because I’m not even sure what that really means. So, of course, I looked it up. According to the Oxford Dictionary, lazy means “unwilling to work or use energy.” By that definition, being lazy is very different from consciously allowing myself to simply be.
For me, being often requires preparation. I don’t just stop, sit, and stare into space. I usually can’t settle into stillness until everything around me is in order—house clean, calendar clear, physical space prepared. Only then do I feel I can fully arrive at the destination of simply being.
And what does that “being” look like? It might include resting, letting my mind wander through non-demanding thoughts, or sitting with soft eyes as I take in the sounds around me—whether it’s silence, nature, the hum of the city, indoor noise, music, or even the faint sound of a TV in the background.
This desire to just be comes and goes. I notice it more during certain phases. When I overfill myself—too much activity, too much input, too much doing—it becomes difficult to shut off the engine constantly running inside my mind and body. But if I simply stop, like I’m doing right now as I write this, and open my senses, I can begin to find that stillness.
It just dawned on me: this is exactly what I’m doing now. Even though I’m writing—technically an action—I’ve entered a soft, gentle space. I’m not overthinking what I’m saying; I’m simply letting my thoughts flow through my fingers onto the keyboard. I’m sitting here on my porch, writing and being.
None of this was planned. The question I asked myself at the start wasn’t premeditated, and I didn’t set out to feel calm—but here I am. The house is a mess, my day is full of appointments, but in this one quiet moment, I’ve landed in a space of presence. And it feels good.
Honestly, it doesn’t get much better than this.

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