There is no shortage of advice on leadership, and life, that urges us to be more mindful, to be focused and intentional, to find those places of quiet contemplation within ourselves. I don’t know about you but for me, quiet internal places have always been in short supply. If I had a visual for the inside of my brain, it would not look like well ordered compartments, neatly labeled. There were not be a flow chart to show me the way to get from here to there, efficiently and logically. Yes, the neat compartments would be there. Some would have labels, a lot would not and the drawers would be open, items spilling out, a bit of a jumble that is constantly being reshuffled and rearranged. It’s neither good nor bad, it’s just a reflection of the very different human beings we all are.

Yet mindfulness still appeals to me, the thought that there are ways to both calm ourselves and think more clearly, finding meaningful paths through all of that mental clutter. Over the course of time I’ve tried a variety of ways to find those mindful moments. I’ve tried meditation in the traditional sense, finding a word or phrase that resonates and sitting quietly, attempting to hold that thought. I’ve given myself grace when my mind wandered and worked at just letting go. I did let go. I let go of trying to meditate, lacking the patience and the determination to keep at it until I succeeded.

As I began to take yoga classes, I would find that those moments of savanna at the end of the session were hard for me. Lying on the mat, soft music playing, I was the one who would keep opening my eyes, wondering how much longer this was going to go on. I could never “drop into” that place that others talked about, much as I wondered what that was like.

What I have learned, though, is that achieving mindfulness is best done when we let go, when we let go of our expectations and pre-conceived notions and worries about “getting it right.” When we think about mindfulness in a less “all or nothing” way, it illuminates our path to achieving it.

There is a word we use in yoga that so well applies here. It is sadhana, literally referring to detaching ourselves from the world in moments of spiritual practice. Lest that sound too off the beaten path, sadhana is, for me, giving myself a moment of quiet and a moment of thought. Those sadhana moments, mindfulness moments, can be active or passive. They can be a walk in the woods or on the beach. They can be five minutes of journaling at the beginning or end of the day. They can be cuddling a baby or stroking the dog’s head that is cradled in your lap. What matters is not what they look like but that they are intentional. What matters is that we find those opportunities to allow ourselves a peaceful breath and the chance to step away from all of our competing life priorities.

I like to start with gratitude. If I can take a pause and think about one or two or three things I am grateful for, it often gives me a clarity I did not have before and the peace that seems so elusive. No mystery to mindfulness—just give yourself that moment.