There were a few moments last week when I stopped thinking about what needed to happen next. I wasn’t thinking about work, worrying about everything still to be done or trying to solve another problem. I was simply there, spending time with friends and family. And I remember thinking: God, this is it. These are the moments that really matter.

The moments when you are completely present, when you aren’t trying to get anywhere, prove anything or work everything out. You’re simply laughing with someone, sitting quietly together or noticing what is happening around you. For once, you’re not thinking about life. You’re actually living it.

You know those moments, don’t you? The ones that seem completely ordinary from the outside but somehow make you feel more alive. They don’t look particularly impressive, and you probably wouldn’t even think to take a photograph of them. But they bring you back to yourself.

I think we need those moments more than we realise. Without them, I don’t think we can make clear decisions about what we truly want, whether that’s for our work, our relationships or our lives. I know I can’t hear myself properly when everything around me feels chaotic. And, if I’m honest, life feels pretty chaotic at the moment.

Those small pockets of stillness were exactly what I needed. They reminded me that the present moment is the only place where life is actually happening. They also reminded me that our thoughts are not always reality.

There's a poem called Lost by David Wagoner that's really resonating with me at the moment. It describes being lost in a forest and asking what to do. The answer is to stand still. The trees and bushes around you are not lost. Wherever you are is called “Here”. The forest knows where you are, and you must allow it to find you.

I love that because when we feel lost, our instinct is usually to move faster. To do more, think harder and desperately search for the path. We convince ourselves that if we keep moving, work a little harder, make another plan or think everything through one more time, we will eventually find our way out.

But perhaps the answer isn’t always to keep moving. Perhaps sometimes the answer is to stop. To stand still long enough to notice where you actually are.

You can’t sleepwalk your way into the life you want. At some point, you have to wake up and pay attention. And that requires silence because, without it, all the noise inside your head can drown out the possibility of real change.

There's the voice telling you to stay where it’s safe. The voice worrying about what everyone else will think. The voice demanding a complete plan before you take a single step. The voice insisting that uncertainty must mean something has gone wrong.

There will always be a hundred reasons not to do the thing that frightens you. A hundred reasons to stay where you are. A hundred reasons to choose the safe, familiar and predictable path.

But how do you know you’re on the right path? Perhaps, for a while, you don’t. Perhaps the path disappears.

How do you know you’re doing something genuinely brave or different? Perhaps it’s because you can’t see exactly where you’re going. Everything you once relied on for certainty has fallen away, and you find yourself walking through the uncomfortable darkness of self-doubt.

And when you feel lost, my God, it can feel overwhelming. But maybe being unable to see the way forward doesn’t mean you’re lost. Maybe it simply means you’re going somewhere new.

I don’t have everything worked out. Things feel pretty chaotic right now, and I still overthink, question myself and get frightened. Sometimes I wish someone could simply hand me a map showing exactly where every decision will lead.

But I’m beginning to realise that I don’t need to know the entire route. And neither do you.

Perhaps we just need to slow down enough to hear ourselves again. To notice what feels right. To pay attention to what gives us energy and what takes it away. To be present with the people we love and appreciate those rare people who quieten the noise, remind us who we are and somehow help us find our way back to ourselves.

And when everything becomes too loud, when we can no longer see the path ahead, perhaps we don’t need to panic or force our way forward. Perhaps we just need to stand still for a while, look around and remember that wherever we are is called “Here”.

And trust that, eventually, the forest will find us. 🩷