Making Love with Life

During a conference focused on different approaches to integrating mindfulness into daily life, Jon Kabat-Zinn leaned closer to the camera and, almost whispering, said something that surprised and moved everyone: "Practicing mindfulness is like making love with life."

I imagine that if someone had said this to me before October 1993, I wouldn’t have understood what they meant. But now, almost 26 years after the accident, the coma, and my literal reawakening to life, I find this connection between mindfulness and intimacy with life deeply intriguing and entirely natural. For me, this is also what it means to feel at home—not in a physical place, but in the embodied experience of being fully alive.

Over the years, I have come to understand that both mindfulness practice and making love require full presence in the sensory and physical experience. And just as making love can create a feeling of being at home within ourselves and with another, so too can our mindfulness practice—inviting us to feel at home in our bodies, in our lives, and in the present moment. Yet staying present in the body is not a simple task. Our natural tendency is to drift into the realms of thought—to let our minds wander between the past and the future, worries, plans, and anxieties. This wandering distances us from a true sense of home in the present, pulling us away from the connection to our bodies and the fullness of our lived experience.

Beyond our wandering minds, there is also a natural human inclination to navigate life on autopilot, treating the basic components of our existence as something to be taken for granted. Autopilot can serve us well in certain areas—such as driving, where our brain internalizes the technique and frees us from consciously considering every action. But this mode easily spills over into our everyday lives, shaping habits, behaviors, and thought patterns that become automatic. Though familiar and seemingly safe, these patterns may not be beneficial, often preventing us from feeling truly at home within ourselves. Today, it is well understood that a wandering mind and autopilot living do not contribute to a deeper sense of belonging, connection, or homecoming in our own lives.

So, what does it mean to "make love with life"? Is it similar to making love with a partner? Life experiences bring their own unique complexity—so perhaps the experience is always shifting. There is a quality of mindfulness practice that is like making a home in each moment, where repetition, immediacy, and the deep focus on what is present allow us to connect with an ongoing, nurturing sense of being.

It is interesting to observe, without judgment, what approach or expectation we bring to our mindfulness practice. Do we bring a longing or a need for something specific? Is the practice itself like a creative journey? Or does it sometimes feel repetitive or technical? Is there curiosity? Can we fully surrender to the experience, or do we feel the urge to move on to something else? Are there barriers—physical, emotional, or mental—that prevent us from letting go? Perhaps, as is often the case, the answer is "all of the above"—sometimes one way, sometimes another.

Naturally, the mind will wander during practice. Yet non-judgment and acceptance of this wandering create a space where we can truly relax, allowing ourselves to open, expand, and surrender. This is where we create a home within—a space where we can be with what is, in a way that is intimate and kind. When our attention is fully directed to the present moment, the sensory experience can deepen and transcend the chattering of the mind, creating a sense of belonging within the here and now.

Full presence in the moment—whether in mindfulness practice or in making love with life—is made possible by openness and the willingness to let go of unnecessary burdens (e.g., difficult thoughts, judgments, or inhibitions) in order to discover what truly fits and feels right. It is the art of feeling at home within ourselves.

This process also requires recognizing and softening rigid and defensive stances—accepting our "different states of self" with all their complexity. Only through acceptance can true change unfold. As Carl Rogers once said, "The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change." This acceptance is fundamental to the practice of feeling at home in one's own skin, of making peace with the changing landscapes of our internal world.

Establishing "Anchors" in Practice: The Foundations of Homecoming

Curiosity: Curiosity is a key element in any new experience. It allows us to explore and remain open, even in unfamiliar territory. It keeps us rooted in our journey, transforming uncertainty into a place of learning and openness.

Consent: Mindfulness practice can only occur when there is genuine consent—physically, emotionally, and mentally—to surrender to the sensory experience with curiosity and openness, free of judgment. It’s important to recognize that, for most of us, consent may trigger resistance because we fear losing control. However, allowing consent is like giving ourselves permission to be fully present, to truly come home.

Acceptance: Encountering something new, even if intriguing, may evoke hesitation or aversion. This is an initial, human, natural response—a defense against the unfamiliar. Acceptance means welcoming this, much like Rumi suggests: accepting every emotion as a guest arriving at the house of our awareness, recognizing its temporary nature and allowing it to be. This kind of acceptance is crucial to feeling at home in our ever-changing selves.

Perseverance: The more we persist in practice, the deeper we can settle into the inner sanctum of knowing—a calm, alert awareness that feels like being in the eye of a storm, observing everything that happens without being swept away by it. This perseverance is what transforms our practice into a homecoming, allowing our mind to relax and recalibrate, enabling us to better cope with the challenges we face.

Thus, the common thread in the experience of mindful practice and in making love with life is the ability to be fully present—consciously—in the sensory experience of the moment. To dwell comfortably in that moment, with all that arises. Nevertheless, staying present in the body is a challenging task. Our thoughts wander, and this wandering distances us from our bodies and our sense of home. Therefore, the invitation in this practice is to allow yourself to be fully embodied—to truly come home to yourself in the sensory experience of the moment.

As human beings, complex and layered, shaped by both wondrous and painful life experiences, you are invited to practice being without judgment—to approach your experience with curiosity and openness. Cultivate what the Zen tradition calls the "beginner’s mind" or "don’t know mind." Notice one automatic choice you make in your life and, instead, try something new, or approach a familiar activity in a fresh way. This is the beginning of practicing "making love with life"—of truly feeling at home.

Practice: Simple Awareness—A Homecoming Experience

Practice Time: 10-15 minutes

Find a quiet place where you can be alone and undisturbed. Choose a posture that feels comfortable—sitting, standing, or lying down.

Breathe naturally—inhaling and exhaling effortlessly. Trust that your breath is enough, just as it is.

Focus on where your body makes contact with the surface you are on. If standing or sitting, bring your attention to where your feet meet the ground.

If lying down, focus on the sensation of your body meeting the surface beneath you. Breathe, and be mindful of the overall sensations in your body—let yourself settle here, in this moment, as though you are coming home.

You may close your eyes for a moment and notice how aware you are of your body. Feel your legs, chest, stomach—where is the most distinct sensation in your body right now? Perhaps in your breath? You can open your eyes while still maintaining awareness, feeling the weight and presence of your body.

Mindfulness practice brings the challenge of staying alert and present in the sensory experience to the forefront.

You may raise your hand in front of your face, look at it, and then close your eyes again, keeping your attention on your hand. Allow yourself to really be with it, as if it were an old friend.

With your eyes closed, notice if there is an area in your body that is asking for attention. Perhaps there is discomfort or pain. Breathe into that place, acknowledging it for a moment. Now shift your focus to the overall sensation in your body.

Try to notice the emotions and thoughts that arise at this moment, with the intention of simply being with whatever is there. This is part of the art of feeling at home—dwelling with yourself as you are—while breathing naturally.

Slowly, begin to transition towards closing the practice, bringing your attention once again to the overall sensation in your body. Let this sensation guide you to a feeling of gentle stability, of being at home within yourself.