A dear friend of mine passed away a couple of years ago. We had gotten really close to each other in the last 5 years of her life and I felt really cheated when she died. Maybe that sounds selfish, but I feel like we don't get many kindred souls in our lives, and we certainly don't often make new close friends after we hit middle age. Yet, I met this person who understood me so deeply and really saw me. And I understood, saw, and valued her back. My heart literally broke seeing her sick.

We talked about all sorts of things in her last few months because we both knew she was leaving. In one random discussion, we talked about tattoos. I have three; she had none. She'd never gotten one because she never landed on the thing that resonated enough to put it on her body. Until she did. And then, she chose to wait until her children were grown before she got a tattoo.

She had wanted to get the words ‘be here now’ tattooed on her wrist. We talked a lot about the meaning behind my tattoos and the stories they represent. For her, 'be here now' was to serve as a reminder to be present, to be in her body, and not to let distraction take her away from now. That really stuck with me. As two working, career-driven humans, I realized she and I very rarely let ourselves be fully present in any given moment.

I'm just like everyone. I am constantly on the move—for work, for speaking gigs, for my family, for my life. Even when I take my cherished alone time, I’m often distracted and not fully present. I think about the work I have to do, my schedule, an upcoming appointment, or any one of my myriad responsibilities. Unfortunately, I think we are all guilty of it.

I posted a simple video on Instagram the other day. In it, I simply captured some willow limbs swaying in a breeze as I watched them from my hammock. It was a basic post—no humor, no “point,” per se—but it was sincere. I knew no image could have done that moment justice, but I wanted to capture it. See, Minnesota and Wisconsin were in the throes of a heatwave right then. The Twin Cities were particularly steamy. But I was in a hammock on a hill in northern Wisconsin, having a much-needed respite from a just-over workday. And it was so peaceful and perfect that I wanted to notice it.

The caption in my post called out the idea that we've made happiness a destination. It's something we'll get to…someday. It's the lake home when we retire. It's Prince Charming when we find him (good grief). It's a new job, a fancy title, or a new car. It's always someplace down the road. It's never right now. I recently saw a meme that called this a 'destination addiction.' We're addicted to imagining how much better our lives would be—someplace else. But laying in my hammock, the point I was trying to make for others, and myself, is that happiness is in moments that are happening now. Happiness is in little moments that are gifts, and we can miss them if we’re too busy paying attention to that someplace else. I’m not alone in thinking this.

How do you force yourself to be fully here? Right now? I think that’s what I was trying to do in my Instagram post: to capture a feeling I was having right then—the bluest sky, the swaying leaves, and the sound of the wind in the trees—and being in my body enough to be fully aware of those things. That was so completely happy-making. And I wanted to mark that moment in time.

While I was writing this newsletter, I listened to an interview with Dachner Keltner, an expert on human emotion and a professor at Berkeley who has spent a ton of time studying happiness. The interview was about the concept of 'awe.' Keltner has synthesized significant research about happiness and consistently writes about the role that being in nature plays in human happiness. He takes it further with awe, which he defines as “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your understanding of the world.” Professor Keltner's research asserts that awe is good for us: it improves immunity, strengthens cardiovascular systems, and reduces stress. He even goes so far as to say that awe is critical to our existence.

I had a bit of an a(we)-ha moment when listening to his interview. I started to think about moments of happiness: every time I can remember being truly happy, I also have a memory of being completely present. When I remember to look up at the stars, when I stay still to hear the flutter of a hummingbird's wings or the little chirp of the ruby-throated hummingbird. It wasn’t just presence that made me happy, though, it was also what presence allowed me: that feeling of awe. It was awe I felt with the wonder and overwhelming joy at seeing a rare bird, a cloudless sky, or a falling star. It was awe that I felt when I looked up and appreciated the breeze in the leaves, and those feelings were literally making me feel better. I had never considered that before. When I started to walk through all of the most awe-some moments I could recall, they all involved me intentionally trying to 'be here now.'

There is no shortage of hard things in our lives. We are all trying to get by, figure out our problems, and live good lives. When you layer in the extreme divisiveness, world conflict, natural disasters, and the struggles of capitalism, it's a wonder we are ever ‘here.’Yet, there is absolutely no shortage of opportunities for awe, too. In my middle age (well, middle if I live to be over 100!), I have developed an appreciation for birds. I sit outside with my camera for hours and revel in the sound of hummingbird wings fluttering past or the bright color of the Baltimore oriole as it flies by. I can stare into a tree or at a hill for a ridiculous amount of time, just waiting to see a bird. And I love that time. I’ve taken significant flack for being a late-blooming birder. I'm not alone, though. So many other folks around my age have also taken up birding. I'm starting to realize it might actually be about middle age, but it's not entirely about middle age, or birds. In truth, I think we race past whole chunks of our lives, then we hit a point when we start to realize what we've been missing—the awe.

My dear friend gave me many gifts before she left. But perhaps the greatest one was the reminder that we are all wasting our lives worrying about what's coming. We are all wasting our lives worrying, period. The best thing we can do for our health, for some perspective, and to shift our energy is to look around and to be in our bodies when we do. Mindfulness isn't just yoga and pilates on pretty mats on exotic beaches. Mindfulness doesn't require a leotard or an app. Mindfulness can happen anytime, anywhere. All we have to do is stop and see the beauty. We owe ourselves that much.

I'm currently shopping for a tattoo artist. I've been on some waitlists forever, but I am done waiting. My friend never got her tattoo, but I can. I want to remember her, and I want to remember to be here now.