Field Note from Ep. 7 – You’re already in the ceremony: reclaiming the sacred in the everyday

There’s been this quiet longing in me lately—something that doesn’t scream or demand, but whispers at the edges of my days.

I’ve been craving space.

More time to sit. To journal. To sip cacao slowly and not just as a task. I keep dreaming about mornings that stretch and unfold, about more presence and less pressure. And in that dreaming, I realized something:

I’ve been romanticizing a version of my life that’s always slightly over there—just around the corner, just after this project, just once I get through this busy stretch. A softer season. A cleaner slate. A time when life feels more like ceremony and less like survival.

But what if I’ve been missing the point?

What if the ceremony isn’t something we find in the future—but something we remember, right now?

That’s what this episode is about. And this is where it began.

The Seduction of “After This…”

Lately, I’ve been catching myself in this loop: once the wedding is over, then I’ll get back to myself. Once this project wraps, I’ll slow down. Once, once, once…

It’s such a slippery story.

“Busy” used to be my default setting, but I don’t like that word anymore. It feels like a way of saying, “Life is happening to me,” instead of “I am choosing this life.”

So I started swapping it out with “full.” My life is full. That feels more honest. More empowered. More intentional. But even then, I noticed something: when I say I’m full—when I feel full—I sometimes also start to feel resentful. Toward my schedule, my work, even the things I love.

I realized I was holding my presence hostage—treating it like a reward I’d earn after the chaos passed. But life? Life isn’t waiting. It’s happening. Right now.

Stillness Wasn’t Gone—I Was

In therapy (a place you’ll hear me talk about often on this podcast), I walked in one day and said I felt “fine.” Not bad. Not overwhelmed. Just… fine.

But like always, that simple answer cracked something open.

We started talking about blame—how I was blaming external things: the schedule, the people, the moments. But underneath that? I saw myself. I saw the ways I had quietly abandoned the rituals that keep me tethered to who I am. The sacred little things that remind me what matters.

I wasn’t lacking stillness. I was ignoring the stillness already present in my life.

It hit me: I was treating presence like a destination. Something I had to earn. But presence isn’t something you earn. It’s something you return to.

When Meditation Becomes a Way of Living

Nick—my husband—has said this thing for years: “Meditation isn’t just something you sit down to do. It’s something you tap into throughout your day.”

I’ve always believed him. Agreed with him. Repeated it to others.

But recently, I felt it.

There was a shift—from idea to embodiment. From knowing something intellectually to living it viscerally. And suddenly, I got it. It’s not about carving out perfect moments for stillness. It’s about letting life be the practice.

Every breath is a return.
Every moment is the altar.
This is the ceremony.

The Myth of Arrival

We’ve been fed this lie: that calmness, happiness, satisfaction—life—happens once you finish something.

Once the launch ends.
Once the inbox clears.
Once you have more time.

But there is no “once.” There is no arrival.

Presence doesn’t wait for the chaos to end. It’s possible inside the chaos. In the messy, beautiful, unfolding middle of things.

We don’t find the sacred by escaping life.
We find it by dropping deeper into it.

What It Means to Live Ceremonially

So what does that actually look like?

It’s not just cacao in the morning and moon circles on Sundays. It’s brushing your teeth like a prayer. Answering emails with presence. Folding laundry while breathing deep.

It’s noticing.

It’s slowing down within the fast pace—not waiting for the world to slow down first.

It’s treating ordinary moments with reverence, not because they’re rare, but because they’re yours.

You’re Not Waiting for Presence—You’re Already In It

Since this realization, yes, I still crave space. Stillness. Soft mornings. But I’m no longer waiting to live my life in ceremony. Because the truth is, I already am. This is not a perfect season. But it is a real one. And the way I show up to it? That’s the most honest ceremony I could ever create.

Reflection Questions from the Episode:

→ Where in your life are you waiting for things to slow down before you show up fully?
→ What would it look like to treat your current life as sacred—even in its mess, even in its movement?
→ What is one ordinary moment you could treat like a ritual today?

My Own Reflections:

Where in your life are you waiting for things to slow down before you show up fully?
—I was waiting for the wedding to pass, the projects to wrap, the to-do list to be empty. But I’ve realized none of those moments are the point. Life doesn’t begin after. It begins now.

What would it look like to treat your current life as sacred?
—It would mean holding my routines with softness. Choosing to pause. Bringing breath into even the most mundane moments. It would look like gratitude in motion.

Try This Prompt:

Choose one ordinary moment today—making your bed, your drive to work, brushing your hair—and treat it like a ritual. Breathe through it. Bless it. Let it be enough.