To my delight, my dearest friend Ann happened to be in Columbus again today, and we were able to spend the evening together dinnering and setting up my new electric fireplace. She brought lovely wine, North Star’s carrot cake in a jar, and farm-fresh eggs. She also brought fun and incredible conversation.

Between sips of wine and the terrible fake crackling wood sounds of the new fireplace, we shared laughs, deep thoughts, and connection.

The theme of our conversation was about finding the balance between goal setting and being present.

Being present, we discussed, is putting our attention on the moment we find ourselves in. Not the past and not the future, just the now. It’s an act of reverence to the reality in front of us and complete acceptance of what is. When we’re with others, our choice to be present with each other is felt and experienced most pleasantly. It’s noticed, perhaps, because it’s becoming less and less a way of being for humans. We’re in front of each other, but we’re not fully engaged. We’re on our phones or in our heads, and our energy is dispersed and divided. We’re here, but not fully here.

The yumminess of a simple deep breath is how I reclaim my attention and awareness from all of the different thoughts and stimuli requesting my energy, and I’ve been consciously doing this more and more lately. It’s something that, for whatever reason, this 30-day experiment has brought into focus for me.

Ann and I chatted about the bounty of the present moment. How- without strife or effort- what needs to be done seems to get done when present. The answers to life’s questions come from this place of being, it seems, and things unfold naturally. This is not an approach I’ve spent much of my life utilizing.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that the only way to accomplish things was with goals, and it probably was a way of honing my focus and following through on things. I’m sure my intention in turning everything into a goal was pure in its effort to create improvements in areas of my behavior I was seeking to enhance or improve.

The goal of this 30-day experiment, for example, has been wonderful. Writing every day and living thoughts at a slowed pace for the sake of this exercise has been nothing short of transformative. It’s been challenging to find the time to write sometimes, but the benefits far outweigh any cons.

Last year, in the move that didn’t happen, presence was missing. I lived every moment in complete devotion to an idea I had committed myself to. I don’t recall the exact date of my official decision to move, but let’s say it was April 25th, for example’s sake. Well, every beautiful, bountiful, generous present moment of April 26th and all the days thereafter was a photocopy of a day gone by. I woke up every day living a former present moment when a new one – full of insight, opportunity, and vitality- awaited my presence. But I never answered the call of the day. I never rendezvoused with the new now.

As a result, I missed all of the internal indicators trying to get my attention. The messengers diligently working to notify me of a path gone wrong were present in the now, but I was not.

This is why it took getting a truck full of my house contents before realizing it wasn’t right.

I understand what I was doing – I was trying to remain “present” on the goal. To be immune to distraction. To champion a goal. I thought I was doing what was necessary to get the job done. And I did get it done. I had the house lined up in Marquette and the house ready to be sold here. I reached the goal.

But I’d detached from my body on April 26th, ignoring all of the feelings and stress and overwhelm it was experiencing. On moving day – because I’d reached the goal – I was willing to come into my body once again. And that’s when I received the messages. By then, they were loud and mighty.

Here a year and half-ish later, I’m learning to take all of me everywhere, all the time. There’s no more separating and parsing myself anymore. While that may have been a learned behavior that provided benefit to my life at some point, it’s time to update the relationship with myself. There’s a distinction between enjoying challenge and suffering. I hadn’t understood this delineation. I do now.

As Finn and Ann are now snuggled in the guest room sound asleep, I hear Finn’s faint snores from down the hall and Ann’s lovely pink noise. I’m present in this now moment and full of gratitude for this evening, Rose wine, good conversation, and this 30-day experiment.

I won’t be getting to Oregon within the 30-days, but I got what I thought getting to Oregon in 30-days would provide me: deeper connection with ME.

Until tomorrow, much love to all.