Yesterday, I was with my disability support client.
I see her twice a week, taking her out into the community.
On the surface, yesterday seemed no different from the days before. But as we approached my car and she was about to get inside, a thought struck me: She follows the same routine every morning, yet it never seems to bother her.
I began to reflect on all my other disability support clients. Each one follows a consistent routine, and yet they don’t seem to complain or grow bored of it.
Some might argue that this stems from their mental capacity or even an inability to communicate dissatisfaction. But with almost a decade in this field, I know better. Any carer will tell you—if a client doesn’t like something, they will let you know, one way or another.
In that moment, a wave of gratitude washed over me.
Unlike my clients, I have a fully functional mind and the ability to communicate with ease. Yet, how often do I fixate on what I’m missing or what’s lacking instead of experiencing the goodness of the present moment?
This realization reminded me that there’s a “newness” to everything, always.
When we move through life on autopilot, it all blends together, feeling monotonous and unremarkable. But when we give our full attention—engaging all our senses—everything becomes alive with a transformative energy.
It’s easy to crave novelty, new thrills, and constant highs. In a fast-paced world that bombards us with endless stimulation, we’ve become desensitized. Overfed, yet undernourished.
Emptying the mind and becoming one with the moment is both our greatest challenge and our greatest calling.
What arises when we are fully present?
Creativity. Art. Abundance. Love.
All the good things in life flow from this state of presence. To be here, now—not fretting about the future or dwelling on the past—is a meditative way of being.
As I reflected, I realized that my distractions are often rooted in concerns about what’s next or what’s already happened. This is the ego at work.
Our ego clings to protection and preservation through status, material possessions, self-image, and praise. It spends its energy trying to foolproof itself, seeking control.
But the soul-led way is different. The soul surrenders.
It sees wanting, needing, and having as constructs of the mind. The real goal?
To experience the natural ebb and flow of desire and contentment.
To notice suffering and to notice ease.
To ride the waves of change without latching onto any particular state—simply allowing it all to be.
This way of living requires a “soft alertness” that arises when the needs of the ego are set aside.
And yet, this presence feels increasingly rare.
I wonder: what might the mundane become if we experienced it with eyes of novelty?
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