Like a boulder

I’ve been thinking about pressure—how it shows up in my life and how it connects to my Zen training. The idea of being a boulder in the river, where life flows around me, comes to mind. I wonder if the issue isn’t the external pressures we face, but rather the internal pressure we place on ourselves. Some of that pressure comes from society, and some comes from the internal dynamics of family. But I’m starting to ask: is there a way to exist in this world and still be productive without carrying the weight of that pressure?

In Zen, we are encouraged to let go of control and expectations, to be fully present in each moment. What if productivity could be redefined through that lens? Instead of measuring my worth or success by how much I achieve, I could focus on how present and mindful I am in what I do. Maybe it’s not about removing external pressures completely, but about changing my relationship to them.

I see now that a lot of the pressure I feel is self-imposed. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking I need to do more, be more, or achieve more. These are the machinations of society, and sometimes, they are the unspoken rules within families. But the truth is, I can choose to operate differently. I can release some of that internal pressure by focusing on the present moment and accepting that I’m doing enough.

Recently, I put a picture from September 2022 on my phone’s wallpaper, where I’m at my slimmest during my health journey. I use it as motivation to get back to that weight. But when I look at that picture now, it also reminds me of the immense internal pressure I placed on myself at the time. I realize that my ability to reach that weight wasn’t just about discipline—it was also due to my father’s good health back then, which allowed me to focus on myself. Now, with my father’s declining health, I feel the privilege of that time more sharply, and it brings up complicated feelings.

2022 was a year of mixed experiences. While I achieved some success in paddling, reigniting my love for the waʻa, I also visited my uncle after his terminal cancer diagnosis. That visit left a heavy weight on me, a weight I couldn’t remove. It’s a weight that only got heavier as my father’s health declined. I realize now that my weight loss during that time was not just about the physical actions I took but about how I managed my stress. Walking every morning helped regulate my nervous system. Yet, even as I made progress, I continued to put immense internal pressure on myself to keep achieving.

Looking at that picture now, I have to reconcile the pride I feel in what I accomplished with the awareness of the pressure I was under. I’ve gained back 35 of the 45 pounds I lost that year, and it’s easy to feel frustrated. But life has shifted—my father’s health requires more of me, and caregiving has become a priority. I can’t hold myself to the same standards without acknowledging the changes in my circumstances.

I realize now that I was able to focus on my health journey in part because I had the space and support to do so. Achieving those goals wasn’t just about discipline—it was about being in a situation where my nervous system was calm. But life brings stress, and while I can’t always remove it, I can change how I respond to it. Zen reminds me that peace isn’t about avoiding challenges; it’s about finding balance within them.

Going forward, I want to experiment with this idea of being productive without pressure. What if I focused on fewer things but did them with more presence and care? What if I allowed myself to rest, knowing that rest is also productive in its own way? These are the questions I’m holding today, as I continue to find clarity in how I move through life.

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