Michigan’s forests, meadows, and bodies of water create a serene, mindful retreat into nature.
Home is an interesting concept for me. I’ve lived in California longer than anywhere else, yet Michigan, where I spent most of my childhood and early adulthood, still feels just as much like home. It makes sense—those formative years were filled with growth, exploration, and learning. Many of my loved ones still reside there or nearby, deepening my connection to the place.
The Emotional Journey of Going Home
Returning home is an emotional whirlwind. I’ve heard this from many others who have moved far from where they grew up, so perhaps it’s a universal experience.
There’s the guilt of having moved away, of not being able to see everyone, or spend as much time as I’d like with those I do see. There’s the immense joy and love that comes with reconnecting in person—because, no matter what anyone says, virtual connections are not the same as being able to reach out and physically embrace someone. There’s logistical anxiety; Michigan is a big state, and no one lives in the same place. There’s envy for those who return “home” and find all their loved ones in close proximity. Then, there’s the sadness when I leave—especially now that I have nieces whom I adore. And, of course, there’s the frustration and lingering annoyance over unresolved family dynamics (because, let’s be honest, we all have them!).
Practicing Mindfulness While Visiting Michigan
It’s not surprising that practicing mindfulness while visiting Michigan has long been a challenge for me—until this most recent trip.
This time, I set the clear intention to savor every single moment. I really wanted to make a concerted effort to be wholly present no matter what was going on. I didn’t want to worry about what I wasn’t getting done or missing out on in California. I didn’t want to get stuck in past, unhelpful patterns. I wanted a brand new experience. And wouldn’t you know it, my commitment to mindfulness, radical acceptance, and conscious choices led to an abundance of peace, gratitude, and joy.
Choosing Joy Amidst Uncertainty
A side note: My life has not been particularly peaceful or stable as of late—perhaps ever. Though I recognize fleeting moments of stability, the relentless pace of modern life has weighed on me more than I’d like. But recently, I made a conscious decision—I will no longer allow anyone to steal my joy! Being as miserable as those who try to bring myself and others down isn’t doing anything for anyone—particularly me.
With so much uncertainty in my life, I’m left with only the present moment. I hope that through continued mindfulness practice, the larger things will sort themselves out. So, I embraced my time with family and friends in a state I still consider one of my two homes.
Reconnecting with Michigan’s Natural Beauty
I soaked in Michigan’s natural beauty. In many ways, this is where FUNdaMENTAL Growth was born, even if I didn’t realize it then. While I love the ocean, mountains, and deserts of California, Michigan’s vast open spaces, lush green forests, and four distinct seasons nourish a part of my soul that feels malnourished living in Los Angeles.
I hadn’t yet seen snow this winter—a first for someone who grew up with nearly six months of snowy winters each year. Then, early into my trip, it snowed. Though none of it stuck to the ground—meaning no sledding or snowman-building—watching it fall from the sky was enough to satisfy me for the moment.
It also rained, and there was a brief thunderstorm—something I miss deeply about the Midwest. Temperatures ranged from the 20s to the 60s, with alternating sunshine and clouds. The trees hadn’t yet sprouted their leaves, but I appreciated their bare branches as a simple reflection of this season of life. All of nature calms, inspires, and revitalizes me, but Michigan’s landscape was my first love.
Cherishing Time with Loved Ones
I spent time running, even in frigid temperatures, and felt so alive. Knowing I’d soon return to much milder running weather certainly helped. I also ran long-distance for the first time ever with my brother! We grew up running around and playing together, but neither of us took up long-distance running until adulthood. He’s only recently gotten into it, so I cherished sharing something with him that I’ve enjoyed for years.
Beyond running, I went on walks and small adventures—experiences that somehow always feel more wholesome in Michigan than in LA. My nieces and I spent hours pretending to be dogs and cats, building forts, playing with my childhood Legos, watching “Wicked” and “The Aristocats,” visiting the science center, shooting hoops, playing catch, coloring, crafting, and engaging in all sorts of activities I rarely do anymore. I gave endless piggyback rides and searched for Waldo every single night. There were countless hugs, kisses, and “Live here until you die” conversations that filled my heart beyond measure.
Reconnecting with Lifelong Friendships
I also spent a wonderful day with one of my best friends, who I met freshman year of college and reminds me that soulmates aren’t always romantic partners. We’ve had some adventures over the years. From dancing onstage at clubs to graduate school to dating and marrying to having kids and starting businesses. Aging is weird, but going through so many life changes together, and being able to witness and support each other through it all is an honor.
A Reminder of What Truly Matters
This trip was a profound reminder of what truly matters. It’s not about accumulating wealth beyond measure, wielding power and control, or racking up degrees and accolades. People chase those things and don’t seem any happier than anyone else. What’s important is often cliché but undeniably true—loving and being loved, witnessing and being witnessed, feeling fully, sharing nourishing meals, connecting with nature, playing games, dancing, laughing, and simply being.
Learning to Embrace Presence
As someone who identifies as a “doer,” I’ve struggled my entire life with just “being.” When things don’t go my way, my default is to think and act, think and act. It seemed to work for a while—but lately, not so much. As I reflect, maybe it never truly worked as well as I thought. But it was all I knew, so I persisted.
I believe in life lessons and recurring patterns that persist until we learn what we need in order to grow. For me, the lessons have been clear: acceptance, patience, slowing down, trust, faith, and presence. They say that to truly learn something, you should teach it—even before you feel ready. Perhaps that’s why I’m so drawn to mindfulness practice. Being present has never come easily to me, and while I certainly haven’t perfected it (if that’s even possible), I’m now experiencing more moments like this past week—moments of whole mind-body knowing that I am exactly where I need to be.
As I return to my other home, I carry with me a deep sense of trust that things will sort themselves out—if I allow them to.
Amanda Stemen, MS, LCSW