Stay With Me: A Sacred Practice of Returning to the Present Moment

Earthquake Trail-Bear Valley, Pt. Reyes, CA.

There are moments in life when fear tries to pull us away from where we are.

It pulls us into the future:

What if I don't have enough?
What if something goes wrong?
What if I can't handle what is coming?

Or it pulls us backward:

Why did that happen?
Why did I lose that?
Why can't things be the way they were?

And somewhere between the past and the future, we forget the one place where we actually live:

This moment.

Recently, I found myself overwhelmed by disappointment and fear. Something I had hoped would help financially did not happen, and my mind immediately began racing ahead. Rent, expenses, my aging laptop, car worries — all the things that were not actually happening in that exact moment began filling my thoughts.

I knew those concerns were real. They mattered.

But I also realized I was letting future fears steal the peace of the present moment.

So I took my walk along my garden path.

I brought my flower offering to the Mother Tree, something I have done many times when I need to release emotions that feel too heavy to carry. I held the tree and imagined releasing my fears, anger, and worries back through the roots into Mother Gaia to be transformed.

And in that quiet moment, a thought came to me:

"Do you need this solved right this minute?"

The answer was no.

In that moment, I was safe.

In that moment, I had what I needed.

In that moment, I could breathe.

The message that came through was simple:

Be present.

So that evening, I practiced being present with whatever I was doing instead of living in tomorrow's worries. I cooked, I rested, I enjoyed the small moments around me. Every time my mind tried to jump ahead, I gently brought myself back:

"Right now, in this moment, everything I need for this moment is here."

And then came a dream.

In the dream, I experienced something I deeply long for: the feeling of being held by someone safe. Not just a physical embrace, but the feeling of being able to let go of responsibility for a little while.

The feeling of not being the one carrying everything.

The feeling of resting.

It reminded me of something I knew once very deeply.

My husband gave me that feeling.

He was the captain of the ship.

Not because he was perfect. Not because life was always easy. But because he had a way of noticing me. He could sense when something was wrong. He was emotionally present. He made me feel like I did not have to navigate every storm alone.

One of the first songs he shared with me was "Stay With Me," and even now, that song carries the feeling of him and the safety I experienced in our marriage.

Those words hold so much meaning:

Stay with me.

Not just physically.

Emotionally.

Stay with me when things are difficult.

Stay with me when life is uncertain.

Stay with me when I am afraid.

Over time, I have realized that one of the deepest things we seek from others is presence. We want someone who can sit beside us in the storm and remind us that we are not alone.

But I am also learning something important:

Before I can fully offer presence to others, I must learn to offer it to myself.

I must stay with myself.

When fear comes, I can stay.

When sadness comes, I can stay.

When uncertainty comes, I can stay.

I can become the safe place within myself.

This does not mean I no longer want connection. Humans are meant for connection. We are meant to love and be loved.

But I am learning that the foundation of every loving relationship begins with the relationship I have with myself.

The Mother Tree reminded me.

My husband reminded me.

My dream reminded me.

Stay.

Be here.

Come back to now.

Stay with me.

Be present.

Right now, in this moment, everything I need for this moment is here.

And for this moment, that is enough.