Why I Started Practicing Mindfulness: The Gentle Beginning of My Journey

"I can always begin again."

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My Mindfulness Journey: Why I Said Yes to Sharing My Story

My dear friends,

Sometimes the quietest pauses carry the truest stories.

This reflection began with a kind invitation from Wes, a thoughtful reader who gently encouraged me to share a little more of my own journey to mindfulness– and I hesitated. Stories feel tender, don’t they? Once spoken, they can never be gathered back in. And yet… something in me whispered yes.

"It reminded me of something another dear soul once said to me:

'Eva, if we’re not sharing our stories, how can we really help one another?' ~Carrie"

I never set out to build a “mindful life”. It found me after surgery closed the door on my fitness training. At that time, competing and training had felt like everything - my passion, my escape, the thing that was mine outside of family life. It gave me purpose, structure, and pride. When it was suddenly gone, I felt adrift… as if I’d lost the very thing that defined me.

And then, one sunny afternoon, I sat in the garden (I even found a selfie from that day, along with the caption I wrote back in 2016 - I’ve added it at the end of this post, he he). Cross-legged, not meditating, not even sure what I was doing - just listening to the wood pigeons in the trees. That quiet pause softened my depression and anxiety when nothing else could. Something shifted in me that day. It opened a completely new part of myself I hadn’t met before.

Years later, another health diagnosis pressed pause again. This time I realised: not everything can be healed away forever. But we can soften what hurts. We can live alongside what stays. We can choose small steps towards healing. It is enough to be unfinished and still whole.

Mindful living hasn’t erased the beautiful mess of life – the buzzing thoughts, the full days, the challenges. But it has given me something I didn’t know I was missing: an anchor in the storm. A steadier breath. Slower mornings. Kinder self-talk. Long walks in the mountains. The quiet knowing that life itself is the greatest gift I have. I don’t need to be perfect. I am enough. I can always begin again. Even the smallest pause can be the beginning of healing.

And if you’re feeling lost right now, perhaps a small pause is waiting to open something new in you, too.

With thanks to Wes for inviting this small opening – and with thanks to all of you, for reminding me that when we share, we grow softer, stronger, and never as alone as we once believed.

With warmth,Eva

"Sometimes it happens...I already had injury and at first felt sad, but then I tried to find a positive part that could help me stay calm and relaxed. I found that my body was thankful for meditation with good music, and now I feel much better. Perhaps it was a sign that my body needed more rest than I had expected. 22 June 2016

P.S. Sometimes it feels tender to share pieces of ourselves. Yet I’ve learned that a story spoken out loud can become a soft anchor for someone else. Maybe even for you, sitting here now.

If this reflection found you, I hope it reminds you that your own pauses matter too. That you don’t need to be perfect, or finished, to bring light.

We are allowed to be unfinished - and still whole.

~Eva

"Opening this folder of pictures was an emotional, teary moment for me - a mix of happy tears and quiet wonder at my life afterwards. Each picture is a pause, a reminder of resilience, wonder, and being fully alive. These snapshots hold more than smiles - they carry the trembling thrill of being present, daring to shine, and the soft gratitude for every heartbeat, every shiver of joy.

Looking at them, I feel wrapped in warm memories, appreciating how far I’ve come and who I’ve become. No regrets, only the gentle truth that perhaps, without all that I’ve lived through, I wouldn’t know mindfulness as deeply as I do today."