How I learned to be more present with meditation

“The present is full of joy and happiness. If you pay attention, you will see it.” ~ Thach Nhat

A few years ago I moved to a new country with children under the age of two.

The idea was exciting at first – a fresh start, a new place, a seaside life. But the excitement will quickly disappear when you realize that you do not know the same person. No friends to call. No family nearby. No one sits with you on a difficult day and just listens.

I was not prepared for such loneliness. The deep and quiet kind that creeps in slowly – unimpressively, invisible to others, just a little noise that follows you throughout the day. I have two beautiful children who absolutely need me and I am grateful for them every day. But gratitude and loneliness can live in the same heart at the same time. I learned that it was a difficult road.

The hardest part is not the big time. It’s a small thing. The moment I want to meet a friend and remember that there is no one to call. They all lived in another country. When one of my children was sick and I had no one to help me. As I watched the other mothers laugh together in the garden, I felt invisible, even in the crowd.

Making new friends takes time. The real thing – the deep-seated type, the kind that someone knows you well – does not happen overnight. So I waited. And in anticipation, I started to disappear a bit.

I tried to meditate. Everyone said it would help. I downloaded the app, I sat still, I tried to follow my breath. And I failed again and again in the simplest way. My heart will not rest. I will sit there trying to find peace and instead have a working list of everything I have not yet done.

I still do not know how to meditate well, honestly. And for a long time, I thought that meant something was wrong with me.

What I understand now is that I did not fail to be present. I was just trying to get through it through a door that didn’t feel natural to me at the time. I need movement before calming down. I need air colors, curiosity and something soft to put my attention.

Photography always makes me happy. Even before I understood why, there was something about picking a camera that changed my mood – like a quiet reminder that beauty exists and I was allowed to look for it. So one day in the middle of that loneliness, I picked up my camera again.

Not to create something interesting. Not just creating a portfolio or posting something beautiful online. Just go outside and see what I notice.

I began to violate the rules I was taught about photography – light composition, perfect photography. I became a photojournalist in my quiet way.

I pointed my camera at something that caught my eye, though not perfect, no matter how small. Shadows on the walls. The color of the sea in a certain afternoon. The texture of something normal that I went through a hundred times without seeing.

And something happened that I did not expect.

Not because I was forced to. Not because I followed any technique or program. But because of my creativity, I found it less rewarding than my management worries. When you are really staring – really noticing what is in front of you, deciding how to frame it, it feels curious about the light – your mind is too busy living to worry. Too busy to play, only to regret later.

I call it going into the happy zone. It is a place where you temporarily forget about loneliness and fatigue and guilt. Because there are mistakes too – special mistakes that can happen when someone is completely dependent on you. Feeling you have ‘Run out of gas’ emotionally. Taking a step away, even fifteen minutes, is a betrayal.

But I kept going back. Because I come home different every time. Lighter. More presence. Myself. Get ready for the next day, the next little need, the next time of normal beauty that I might have missed if I had not trained myself to look.

Careful photography gave me back something I did not know I was missing – my own attention. Not just taking care of the world around me, but taking care of myself. The practice of noticing beauty from the outside has taught me to notice my own inner state. To enter. To ask what do I need today? And to answer honestly: fifteen minutes outside with my camera and willing to play.

You do not have to be a photographer. You do not need an expensive camera or a nice location or any technical skills. All you need is your phone and fifteen minutes and the will to find something – one color, one shade, one small detail that catches your eye today.

Allow yourself to be curious about it. Let yourself rebel a little with it. Forget the rules. Forget the perfect shot. Just notice. Just play.

Because sometimes the thing that brings you back to yourself is not silence. Sometimes it is a simple act of looking and seeing what is there all over.