Can I Be With This?

I’ve been spending time in Israel, and alongside the traveling, socializing, and exploring, one truth has become impossible to ignore. As Jon Kabat-Zinn titled his book so perfectly: Wherever You Go, There You Are.

It’s easy to believe that the next place, the next job, the next relationship, or the next milestone will finally bring us the peace we’ve been searching for. We tell ourselves, When I get there, then I’ll be happy.

But life has a way of gently showing us otherwise.

We arrive somewhere new, and before long, the same fears, longings, insecurities, and patterns quietly show up beside us. Our circumstances may change, but we still bring ourselves everywhere we go.

I’ve come to think of it as carrying an invisible backpack. We all have one. It’s filled with old stories, grief, hopes, disappointments, beliefs, and experiences we’ve accumulated along the way. Changing the scenery doesn’t make the backpack disappear. It simply gives us a different landscape in which to notice what we’ve been carrying.

And maybe that’s the gift.

The people we meet, the places we visit, and even the challenges we encounter become reflections—not to judge ourselves, but to help us see ourselves more clearly. They invite us to pause and ask, What is this bringing up in me?

Healing doesn’t happen by outrunning our pain. It begins when we can gently name what we’re holding without trying to push it away.

Instead of asking, How do I get rid of this? we might ask, Can I be with this?

Can I meet this fear with curiosity?

Can I hold this sadness with compassion?

Can I allow this moment to be exactly what it is?

As Tara Brach beautifully says, we can become “the holder and the held.” The part of us that is hurting is met by another part of us that can stay present, compassionate, and awake.

Perhaps this is what being present really offers. Not an escape from ourselves, but a return home.

Travel, new experiences, and fresh perspectives don’t necessarily change who we are. They widen the lens. They allow us to see ourselves from a different vantage point. And sometimes, with that wider perspective, we realize we’ve been carrying something for far too long.

For a moment, we can set the backpack down.

We can rest.

Not because everything outside of us has changed, but because we’ve stopped running long enough to simply be here.

And perhaps that is where peace has been waiting all along.