by Connie Habash | Feb 28, 2026 | Joy, Mindfulness, Presence
Like many of us in the first months of the year, I’ve been reflecting on my goals for the year and for my life.
But I realize that, unlike years ago when I had big goals and aspirations for the future, I feel so much more inspired and joyful about my present.
Reflecting on Goals and the Present Moment
This led me to reflect on the old saying, “Carpe Diem”. You’re probably familiar with this famous Latin phrase, translated as “seize the day” and used to justify all manner of spontaneous, sometimes impulsive, self-indulgent acts in the name of living as if there is no tomorrow.
We’ve used Carpe Diem (now updated to YOLO in modern vernacular) to throw caution to the wind and try new things, both good and bad. We’ve used it to take off on wild adventures and step past our fears, because we don’t know if putting it off til tomorrow will ever come. Sometimes, this opens us to powerful new opportunities, and other times it gets us into trouble. But it does remind us to appreciate each moment that life offers.
I feel called to embrace this phrase in a new way. Well, maybe to change the phrase a bit. “Seize” sounds aggressive and fear-based, as if we’d better grab it or it will disappear. It reinforces a fear and scarcity mentality about life, that there’s not enough time or that we don’t have enough yet (remember my other post, about being enough?).
From Seizing to Enjoying
My new take on Carpe Diem is Enjoy The Present (ETP if you want a new acronym). Even when I’m working towards goals or planning future adventures, life is more enriching and joyful when I’m immersed in the moment. I allow myself to fully appreciate and enjoy whatever is here.
It’s such a simple thing to do, but we’re so uncomfortable with it. We’re used to searching for and working towards the next thing. This leaves us feeling lack about what we have and believing that our happiness is constantly two steps ahead. It creates dissatisfaction, self-doubt, and a bit of panic.
Rather than feel I’m not keeping up with what I “should” be doing or flinging myself into experiences with the desperate energy of seizing the day, I relax into the beauty of this moment. Even things like folding laundry or taking out the trash become much more pleasurable when I’m not wanting to be somewhere else, doing something else “more exciting.”
Then, when the big trip comes or a spontaneous adventure emerges, I’m enjoying that, too, because I’m embracing every moment.
Peace Lives in Ordinary Moments
Remember to enjoy this moment for what it is. Find something to appreciate about it, even if it is just a deep breath or a soft pillow. In those ordinary moments lie the keys to peace and happiness.
When you stop chasing what’s next, something shifts. Explore Spiritual Mentoring to deepen your practice of living in the present.
by Connie Habash | Jun 21, 2023 | Joy
Even when we’re struggling or down, joy is possible. We can cultivate it and allow it to carry us, like a gentle breeze into our sails, through the ups and downs of life.
Whether you’re reading this at an amazing time in your life, or one of strife – whether our outer world is filled with war, a pandemic, or civil unrest – joy is an essential part of our being. It’s not bad or wrong to allow joy during those times. In fact, it is the very thing that sustains us through them.
Joy enlivens us and gives us hope; it’s the motivation for getting through the difficult times. Especially when we are in pain, we need to tap into moments that uplift us. Sometimes we become so caught up in distress that we forget what joy is. We think that we don’t have time for that right now, or that it’s too hard to try to be joyful. But a few moments of feeling joyous and alive can give you the energy and motivation you need to take action in the world.
It’s possible to cultivate the feeling of joy intentionally, even if just for a few minutes a day. And so worthwhile – joy and happiness can bolster your immune system, increase mental productivity, and of course, elevate your mood and open you to possibility. It actually can change your brain.
Don’t expect it to be over-the-top elation: just look to improve your mood and enjoyment of this moment through a shift of attention. Here are things that can actually shift the brain and body into a more joyful state:
* Visualize and feel, in detail, a past time that brought you joy for 5-10 minutes (even 30 seconds can change the brain!)
* Do an activity you used to enjoy, even as a child (coloring, shooting a basketball, drawing with sidewalk chalk – what was it for you?)
* Be completely silly for 5-10 minutes, preferably in front of a mirror. Laughter brings joy. Doing it with someone else, even online, increases impact!
* Practice gratitude; look around, listen, feel what is beautiful and you appreciate
* Go outdoors and deeply connect to a plant, tree, or animal by spending time being present with them
* Read about, watch, or notice when someone does something loving or kind (including your own kind acts!)
* Hold a smile for a couple minutes, and practice smiling for no reason
Then, you can share some of your joy with others, in a big or small way. That is how we make a difference in the world.
Joy is like wind, that carries a sailboat forward with more ease. Allow a bit of that happiness to fill your sails, moving you through your sacred life journey.
Share with me here a moment of joy you had, or a way that you touched someone else with joy. 💜
by Connie Habash | Mar 15, 2018 | Animals, Beauty, Hiking, journey, Joy, Life, Nature, Openness, Seasons, Trust
A couple weeks ago, I had planned to hike on a Thursday morning with a friend I hadn’t seen in months. We were looking forward to being together and venturing into one of my favorite forests at nearby Huddart Park. The forecast was for rain – not just a little drizzle. Did we want to venture beyond our comfort zone, even if it was pouring?
I was game, and so was she – what an adventure! Going outdoors brings me great joy, but there’s always an element of being uncomfortable. Will I get muddy? Will my new rain pants truly hold up? What if I slip and fall? How about the cold? Being in nature mirrors to us the fact that life is unpredictable and uncomfortable sometimes.
We met up and drove together through the windy road to the park entrance, then on to the grassy field near the trailhead. On with the jackets, hiking books, and mittens (yep, it was chilly!), and off we went into the redwood forest.
It’s hard to describe the sensations of joy I feel in the forest. It’s a physical sensation of heightened senses, elation, and ease all at once. The rain only served to intensify it, especially the feeling of ease. The soft patter of drops falling from branches and contacting redwood sorrel and other greenery below the canopy contrasted with the deep silence behind it. Peace spread through the woods, enveloping me in a gentle embrace that quieted my mind.
Oh, the smells! The rich, wet earth, blended with moist wood and decomposing bay laurel leaves intoxicates me. I instinctively inhale deeply, as if trying to taste the rich scent by drawing in more of the wonderful scents of the forest. It feels so fresh and clean, and deeply alive. I, too, feel deeply alive as we journey further down the trail.
Our hope was to spy a bunch of banana slugs – one of my favorite creatures to spy here in our local ecosystem – but much to our surprise, they were nowhere to be found, even in this very wet weather. But guess what was out in droves in their place: newts! We counted 5 California newts at various times on our adventure. They waddled across the leafy compost the way a toddler ambles across the living room floor, but on 4 legs instead of two. It was fun to catch a well-concealed newt in the act amongst the camouflage, like picking out Waldo from an eye-boggling scene.
And the earthworms! 10, 20, more… I lost count over our 2 hour jaunt. We took care to avoid stepping on them, sometimes 4-5 littered across the trail like long strings of confetti. I imagined they came out for a party from their underground cover, enjoying the newfound freedom in the rain’s shower.
At the bottom of the hill I was greeted by the creek, which was delightfully full, rushing over river stones large and small, tan oak branches, past fallen Douglas firs, and downward to join many spontaneous rivulets racing to merge in union. After crossing the stream, we chose a trail I had not ventured onto before to follow up the other slope.
It was rare that I saw birds in this forest – usually I only heard whispers of them high above us, atop the redwoods. But today we were treated with a dark-eyed junco couple directly ahead of us on the path. We stopped to watch in silence; and to await how close they would approach us. One hopped towards us, then paused to peck at the group; the second would then take a few cautious hops in our direction. Chit-chit, chit-chit they called to each other, contrasting with the soft sound of the rain. They came within 9 feet or so, then worked their way back in the other direction, eventually off into the brush.
Two hours passes in timelessness. We had put our cells on airplane mode, happily walking without distraction, without checking watches or thinking about “the world”. This was the world. This was alive, abundant, vibrant. Full of surprises and delights. Pausing for occasional downpours so that we could watch, hear, feel, and smell the gift of the rain. We didn’t need more than what nature offered us with every step, around every corner.
Kindly, my friend had packed some lunch for us, and we found a decent picnic table to sit down and eat, enjoying conversation and the drops that landed on our hoods and in our salads. Fresh food never tasted so good out on the land. I appreciated every fruit and vegetable, marveling at what nature provides.
My clothes? The rain pants were fantastic; my legs were cool but not wet. Water dripped off my rainjacket harmlessly onto the ground. My hiking boots held up fine. Just my fingerless mittens were soaked, easily rectified in the dryer back at home.
As we drove away and back into “civilization”, I was filled with gratitude. Nature fills me in ways that nothing else can. I feel Spirit alive in every rock, tree, and raindrop. I recognize that my needs are truly simple. What more do we truly need than this precious beauty, this flowing water, this bushy-tailed squirrel that eyes me as she eats seeds from a cone? The more present we are in nature, the more the mind becomes serene and we experience the Oneness with life that truly fulfills us.
Returning home, the aliveness of the forest was alive in me. I stood in the driveway and turned my face up to the clouds, feeling the drops on my cheeks and forehead. I am a leaf catching the rain, and nothing feels more grand. I was OK being a little wet, a little cold, and stepping into the unknown. Going past my comfort zone opened me to new joys that I hadn’t experienced before.
Feeling the call to immerse in the beauty of nature? Join me at my upcoming Women’s Spring One-Day Retreat or this fall for Mindful Hiking (coming this October)!
by Connie Habash | Feb 27, 2014 | Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Beauty, Blessings, Delight, Joy, Resilience, Resourcefulness, Seasons, Spring, Wind
One of the first flowers to reveal itself in the spring, the Dandelion is a common sight in sidewalk cracks and my own front yard. I saw the first one stealthily growing next to my African daisy by the front fence.
I pledged to stop pulling up these plants, what we usually consider to be “weeds”, as a way to support the local bee population. They are one of the first flowers to nourish honeybees when they emerge from hibernation. And since the honeybee is in serious danger in North America, I figured it was the least I could do.
On further reflection, I realized that there is more to the Dandelion than meets the eye. What a powerful little plant, and how much I can learn from it.
Dandelions pop up seemingly out of nowhere. They grow in the most difficult places, where there’s little water and poor soil (as well as my semi-manicured garden). They are extremely hardy. That’s some resilience, and something I could use more of.
It occurred to me that Dandelions give completely of themselves. Their leaves are food for animals (and apparently are edible for humans, too, although I’m not sure if the garden variety is fit for our consumption), deeply appreciated when abundant foliage still isn’t readily available in early spring. The health benefits and medicinal use of various parts of the Dandelion have been revered for centuries.
They unfold a beautiful yellow flower that offers nectar and pollen to bees. Dandelions are very important providers of food for bees, and it is said that settlers from Europe actually brought Dandelions over for this purpose. The Europeans knew that bees not only provided us honey, but were essential to growing crops. And how the Dandelion has propagated as a result of that!
Not only does this common yellow-flowered plant give of itself as food and medicine for other animals, but ask any child and they also give much beauty and joy. I always found these yellow flowers delightful. Like sourgrass, their sunny and bright blooms were harbingers of springtime. You didn’t have to plant them – they’d just show up and add color to the empty lots across the street, the patch of dirt behind a store, the corner of the yard by the shed.
But the greatest delight of children is near the end of their life-cycle. Who didn’t find joy at least once as a child, almost anywhere in the world, by blowing on a puff-ball of Dandelion seed and making a wish? I remember seeking out as many of them as I could with my friends, and seeing who could blow all the seeds off with just one exhale. Do you?
Then, we’d watch as the seeds floated and drifted away, sometimes carried high by a breeze. Where would they land? Where would those seeds become new Dandelion plants next spring?
What a brilliant way of propagating itself… the tiniest little seeds attached to a natural kite, just waiting for the next gentle wind to carry itself away.
The Dandelion gives all of itself as food, medicine, beauty, and enjoyment, and then it is spent. It dies, knowing it has touched many, and its offspring will carry on its part of the ecosystem.
Do you have some Dandelions in you? Some parts of yourself that you consider as weeds, useless, a nuisance, that you just want to get rid of? And yet, those parts of you may harbor some of the most powerful, healing qualities. The sadness in you may be a well of compassion for others. In one instance, you may see yourself as resistant and slow; in another, you’re recognized as patient and discerning. You might not believe you have much to offer others, and yet you find people seek you out for wisdom, comfort, or a safe haven to just be themselves.
You have within you many gifts that make a difference to others, even if you don’t always see it that way.
How can you be of more service to the world, like the Dandelion? How can you nourish others, or bring them delight?
by Connie Habash | Sep 18, 2013 | Choices, Joy, Passion, Yes
How do you know when you should do something?
Well, first of all, if you “should” do it, it’s probably not coming from your soul.
Because your soul, your spirit, you see, follows its line of power and passion.
OK, I’m not talking about brushing your teeth, or taking a shower. Yes, you should do your laundry. But you know that’s not really what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about all those things that you try to pressure yourself into doing, because someone you know is doing it, someone successful that you’re jealous of has done it, because the experts say you should or your parents, or who knows what.
Chances are pretty good that if you go ahead with that kind of should, sooner or later you’re not going to be so happy with it.
So don’t make your decisions based on what you “should” do.
Listen to your soul, and base your choices on what feels fully alive in you. What lights you up. What fills you with a grounded, satisfying, fulfilling YES.
What gives you that deep YES inside? Share it here!
Even when we’re struggling or down, joy is possible. We can cultivate it and allow it to carry us, like a gentle breeze into our sails, through the ups and downs of life.
One of the first flowers to reveal itself in the spring, the Dandelion is a common sight in sidewalk cracks and my own front yard. I saw the first one stealthily growing next to my African daisy by the front fence.
How can you be of more service to the world, like the Dandelion? How can you nourish others, or bring them delight?
How do you know when you should do something?
