Returning to What Is

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"The wise heart is atpeace with the way things are." – Jack Kornfield

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Last night I floated around the house, reminding myself to come back into my body at almost every turn. I stepped over the balance bike. I maneuvered around the trains, the cups, the half-eaten mac and cheese and continued to focus on returning to now. Returning to seeing my children explore life. Returning to what was actually in front of me in real time.

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At one point my son, almost three, opened the freezer to get an ice pack. He threw it on the floor. Then he did it again. My first thought was to snap — “It’s too loud!” — but I caught myself. I let myself think about it, then I chose a different response: “O, you’re learning that the ice pack makes sounds.” We tested the defrosted one together, saw that it didn’t make noise, and he moved on.

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We ebb and flow like this all night. Sometimes it’s big tears. Sometimes it’s both kids climbing back on the counter for the fourth time. Sometimes it’s my own mind wandering — to questions like: Why can’t I be this present all the time? Why does it feel so much harder when my husband is home?

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And that’s when it hit me: this practice of “returning to what is” isn’t just about parenting. It’s about marriage too.

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When I can stay in the present with my husband, instead of rehearsing old fights, projecting future fears, or layering meaning onto his tone,  I give us both space. Just like with the kids, I remind myself: emotions last 90 seconds. If I let them move through mybody, the emotions change and I can move on. If I clutch tight to the emotions with thoughts, the emotions stick and become glue that keeps me separated from my husband.

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For couples, this is the radical acceptance practice:

●    Not liking the mess, but accepting it’s here.

●    Not loving the hard emotion, but respecting that it’s real.

●    Not wishing for a conflict to repeat, but acknowledging it happened.

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It’s surrendering to what is so that we can move forward and stop fighting our ghosts. The truth is we are mostly fighting ourselves anyway.

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In our house, sometimes that looks like singing what we want from each other instead of snapping. Sometimes it’s taking a breath before answering. Sometimes it’s laughing when we want to scream. The point isn’t to get it perfect. The point is to return to the present moment — again and again.

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Because in parenting, in marriage, in life: this moment, right here, is the only one we have to tend to.