I spoke to someone wise and winsome over the weekend. She asked me about my plans. I have no plans. She asked me about my goals. I have no goals. To her credit she didn’t get frustrated with me.

She pointed out that I have certain gifts. I agreed. She asked me how I would like these gifts to be applied to the world for the remainder of my time here in the world. She’s pretty smooth, that one.

I mentioned that I would like to help people practice wellness. I’d like to be a wellness resource. A wellness catalyst. A well stimulator. A wellness proponent. I’d like to advance wellness in the world at large.

She considered this. She asked, “So you’d like to help people get well and be well?”

Yes, exactly.

She continued her consideration. She followed, “And you have no plan for how to do this and no goals related to your activities or efforts, whatever those might be?”

Correct. I have none of that. I’d like to be free to operate in a ministerial capacity that does not include preoccupation with achievement.

She nodded in a rocking chair motion. Her lips moved with her thoughts. When the nodding slowed to a stop she tilted her head to the side. She found my face with her eyes. She posed her final questions.

“I get it. Still, if your work going forward is to be helping people, don’t you think you ought to be where people are? So they can find you? So they can see and hear you doing what you do? So you can be of service to the people who need you? I mean, the Universe can’t put people in your path if you aren’t moving along accessible pathways, right?”

Oh.

Yeah.

Shit.

Excellent point.

Why didn’t I think of that?

It’s so achingly simple but it is critical. And it’s the one thing I haven’t been doing.

D’uh.

So be where people are. Be visible. Be vocal. Be available. Put it out there. Participate. People in need of wellness aren’t going to benefit from my wellness work if I’m not willing to share it. And I have little hope of reaching anyone if I don’t put that work where people can find it.

Damn, she’s right.  Message received.

Okay.

I’m in.

Again.

This is why we call it a practice.

— Mercy