What a Hike Taught Me About Being Present

I recently spent a few days hiking in California—deep in the Redwood Forest, with stretches of silence, ocean air, and time to just be. No meetings. No expectations. Just my body, my people, and a lot of trails and expeditions.

I never thought the words “I love hiking” would ever be spoken by me, but I’m a changed woman after the week I spent navigating trails through the forest and along the coast.

Before one of the hikes, I read two simple lines from a book recommended to me by a dear friend, All About Love, by Bell Hooks.:

• “To live fully, we need to let go of our fear of dying. That fear can only be addressed by the love of living.”
• “As long as we feel shame, we can never believe ourselves worthy of love.”

I won’t pretend I have those ideas all figured out. But something about being outside—moving through the trees and climbing down rocky paths to a hidden beach—gave me enough space to reflect. Not in the dramatic, journal-until-you-cry kind of way. Just… breathing room.

I’m not here to unpack all my deepest thoughts, but I will say that stepping away from the pace of everyday life helped me notice a few things I don’t always give myself time to see. Mainly, how fear and shame sneak into the cracks—shaping how I show up in relationships, how I talk to myself, and how tightly I hold things together.

I noticed that in some moments, I manage more than I live. Whether it’s parenting, working, or just existing in the world—it’s easy to forget that love doesn’t have to be earned through hyper-vigilance or performance. Sometimes it’s as simple as standing still, feeling the breeze, and realizing: I am here. And that’s enough.

But I also want to be real. I’ve absolutely wanted to throw something (or someone) when told to “just take a breath” during a high-stress moment. Not everyone has the space to pause. There's privilege in being able to put your phone down, go for a walk, or take a break from work, and not everyone has that luxury. And even when we do, the pressure to “rest the right way” or “practice good self-care” can turn into another form of perfectionism. A softer trap, maybe—but still a trap.

I’m learning that being present doesn’t have to be poetic and definitely not perfect. It doesn’t have to be quiet or graceful. It can also be messy, irritating, and barely there. Sometimes it’s noticing one breath before everything speeds up again, looking up at the ceiling instead of the email or text that is sending you over the edge (I see you dating apps), or sitting in your car by yourself for five minutes with your favorite candy bar. Sometimes it’s not possible at all.

But if it is—even for five minutes—you deserve that time. Not to be better, or more productive, or to finally “get it right.” Just because you’re human, trying to exist on this planet.

Do what you can, when you can. And let that be enough, too.