Tag: mental-health

Finding Peace in the Present Moment

In a world that constantly urges us to chase, hustle, and fix ourselves, we often forget one of life’s simplest truths: peace isn’t something we find—it’s something we allow.

There’s a quiet beauty in realizing that nothing more needs to happen for you to feel whole. Not tomorrow, not next year. It doesn’t require a perfect life, a solved problem, or a shiny future. Peace can meet you right here, in the stillness between breaths and in the quiet acceptance of this very moment. Right now, there is peace available—if you allow yourself to feel it.

The Power of Acceptance
Peace begins the moment we stop resisting what is. That doesn’t mean we give up on our dreams or settle for less than we deserve. It simply means we stop fighting the current of life and learn to flow with it.

Acceptance doesn’t mean passive resignation. It means honoring where you are, how you feel, and who you are in this moment, without judgment. From that place of clarity, we can move forward with more kindness, purpose, and ease.

Letting Go of the Illusion of Control
So much of our inner turmoil stems from trying to control things that are beyond our grasp—other people’s actions, the future, the past. But peace arrives the moment we release that tight grip and trust that, even when things don’t go according to our plans, they unfold as they should.

Life is never perfect, but it is always sacred. The chaos, the stillness, the joy, the grief—all of it belongs. And all of it can teach us something about who we are and what we value.

Embracing the Ordinary
Sometimes we think peace will come once everything is in place—when we get the promotion, meet the right person, or heal every wound. But peace is often found in the ordinary: the quiet of the early morning, the warmth of sunlight on your skin, the sound of laughter, the gentle rhythm of your breath.

You don’t need to wait for a perfect moment. This moment is enough. You are enough.

A Gentle Invitation
So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, uncertain, or lost, pause. Breathe. Place your hand on your heart and remind yourself: I am present. I am here. I am alive.
There is nothing to prove. Nothing to fix. Nothing to chase.
You don’t need to be healed. You don’t need to have all the answers.
You are allowed to feel at peace with your life, even if it’s not perfect. Especially then. Because peace isn’t found in perfection. It’s found in presence.

Peace Lives In Presence
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to soften.
You are allowed to be at peace, right now.

And in that peace, you’ll find not only calm… but clarity, strength, and a deeper connection to the wonder of simply being alive.

The Farmer and the Horse

Recently, I had to give a reflection before a regular meeting. As I prepared for it, I came across a parable that was not only connected to what I had been thinking about but also relevant to my work as a Resident Faculty. The parable is called “The Farmer and the Horse.”

There was a farmer in a small village with a single horse who helped him earn a living for his family. The other villagers constantly told the farmer how lucky he was to have such a great horse.

“Maybe,” he would reply.

One day, the horse ran away. The villagers came to the farmer to express their sympathies.

“Your horse ran away. How unfortunate!” the villagers exclaimed.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

A few days later, the horse returned home with ten strong wild horses in tow.

“What good fortune. What incredible luck!” the villagers crowed.

“Maybe,” the farmer again replied.

The following week, the farmer’s son was riding on one of the wild horses in the fields, when it kicked him off and broke his leg. The villagers arrived to express their dismay.

“What dismal luck,” they said.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next month, a military officer marched into the village, recruiting able-bodied young men for the war. The farmer’s son, with his broken leg, was left behind.

The villagers were joyful. “Your son has been spared, what beautiful luck!”

The farmer simply smiled, “Maybe.”

In my work with high school teenagers, one of the most important things that I’ve learned and have tried to do is to avoid judgment. It is human nature to judge because we compare what we see or observe to our lived experiences. That’s how we make sense of the world. In our conversations, it’s difficult but essential to separate the narrative from the facts. In the story, The villagers decide at every instance whether what happened was good or bad. The farmer, however, accepts the reality as it is and allows the space for the events to unfold, to exist, to just be. As Steve Jobs said in his Stanford commencement address, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.”

When a student makes a mistake or comes to us with a problem, sometimes it’s easy to think, “Oh, that’s dumb” or “Come on, there are simple solutions” or “Why didn’t you think about the consequences?” These judgments come to mind because as adults, we “know better.” But more often than not, we probably made the same mistake and had the same problem and there was probably an adult that thought the same about us when we were younger.

So, instead of making judgments about whatever situation students encounter or bring up, be empathetic and understanding, recognize their thoughts and feelings, acknowledge their emotions, and help them to the best of your ability. This applies to everyday life as well and is part of practicing mindfulness for ourselves because sometimes, we are our own harshest critics.