What Would You Miss If You Weren’t Here?

It’s a quiet Sunday morning.

The kind that looks spacious from the outside, but inside the mind there’s a low hum:

What should I be doing right now?

How effective am I being today?

Am I using my time well?

Nothing dramatic. Nothing wrong.

Just the familiar weight many of us carry without realizing it’s there.

Instead of answering those questions, I paused—and asked something different:

From where I am standing right here, right now, what feels truly worth being in human form to experience?

I expected a short list.

One or two things.

But something shifted.

The answers kept coming.

Not from effort.

Not from analysis.

From awareness.

Light through the window.

The quiet hum of the house.

The feeling of being here—in this body, in this moment, surrounded by a life that is unmistakably mine.

And then the tears came.

Not from sadness.

From contrast.

I hadn’t realized how much weight I was carrying until I felt it lift.

I hadn’t noticed how focused my mind had been on responsibility, productivity, and “what’s next,” until awareness gently widened and let love rush back in.

What surprised me most was this:

I hadn’t even begun to look inward yet.

This was just the outer world—

the textures, sounds, connections, and quiet miracles we move past every day without noticing.

Only afterward did gratitude for my own being begin to surface.

It made me wonder how often we mistake existing for failing, simply because we’re not thriving in the way we think we should be.

Around the same time, I offered this question to someone I care deeply about.

Her response stopped me in my tracks.

She was solo parenting.

Her child had been sick.

There had been emotional turbulence, exhaustion, and very little rest.

And yet, when she let awareness speak, this is what emerged:

The joy of caring for her family.

The healing power of hugs.

The quiet strength of supporting her partner’s calling.

Not because life was easy.

But because love was present.

This is what awareness does.

It doesn’t remove hardship.

It reveals meaning within it.

It doesn’t demand positivity.

It softens the grip of burden.

It reminds us that the work isn’t always about fixing, healing, or becoming something else.

Sometimes the work is simply remembering where we already are.

So I’ll offer the same gentle question to you—

not as an exercise, not as homework, and certainly not as a demand.

Just as a Sacred Pause.

What’s here with you right now that you’d miss if you weren’t in this body, in this life?

You don’t have to answer it fully.

You don’t even have to answer it at all.

Let awareness do what force never could.

And if tears come—

let them.

They may simply be the sound of love returning to the surface.

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