Live for the Moment: A Military Spouse’s Restart and Mindful Walk (Day 1)
Written by Latosha Walker Founder & CEO, Wondering.Waves | Military Spouse | Creator | Storyteller
Published: November 1, 2025
As a military spouse, creator, and founder of Wondering.Waves, I’m passionate about sharing the real moments behind the scenes—especially when it comes to restarts, ruts, and mindful living. This is my journey, one step at a time.
Rediscovering the Present: My Honest Restart
There’s something about the turning of a season that always nudges me to pause and reflect. Today, as I stepped out into the crisp November air, I felt the weight of routine—the comfort and the heaviness of it—settle around my shoulders. As a military spouse, routines are supposed to be my anchor. They’re the backbone of every move, every deployment, every season of uncertainty. But lately, I’ve realized I’ve been living on autopilot. Not just in the small ways—for example, forgetting where I put my coffee or mindlessly scrolling through my phone—but in the big, soul-level ways too.
I’ve been craving a real restart. Not the kind that comes with a new planner or a fresh to-do list, but one that feels like a deep breath after holding it in for too long. I want to live for the moment again, to find my spark, to remember what it’s like to be fully here—right now, wherever the Navy sends us next.
A cozy, sunlit workspace overlooking the desert—where creativity, mindfulness, and gentle autumn colors inspire a fresh restart.
The Autopilot Trap: When Habits Become Hiding Places
Military life is full of change, but it’s also full of patterns. I’ve learned to pack up a house in a weekend, to make new friends at the commissary, to find the nearest yarn shop before I’ve even unpacked the kitchen. These habits are my survival toolkit. But sometimes, they become hiding places.
Lately, I’ve noticed myself going through the motions—batching content, answering emails, volunteering, and crocheting late into the night—without really feeling any of it. I’m grateful for the structure, but I’m missing the spark. My creativity, which once felt portable and vibrant, has started to feel like another item on the checklist. I miss the wonder, the sense of possibility that used to come with every new project or adventure.
Who’s Driving? Taking Back the Wheel
It’s easy to let the calendar drive my days. Between my husband’s unpredictable schedule, the needs of Wondering.Waves, and the endless logistics of military life, sometimes it feels like I’m just a passenger. But today, I decided to take back the wheel, even if just for a little while.
I left my phone at home and laced up my sneakers. No podcast, no agenda. Just me, the sidewalk, and a promise to pay attention. I wanted to see what would happen if I stopped running on autopilot and started noticing again.
The Mindful Walk: Small Steps, Big Shifts
Stepping outside, I was surprised by how unfamiliar it felt. I walk almost every day, but it’s usually with a purpose—errands, exercise, a quick break between tasks. Today, my only goal was to notice. To be present. To see what I’d been missing.
At first, my mind raced. I thought about the emails I hadn’t answered, the orders waiting to be packed, the blog post I “should” be writing. My shoulders tensed, and my jaw clenched. Even when I try to slow down, my body remembers the pace of busy seasons.
But as I walked, something shifted. I started to notice the way my breath felt—shallow at first, then gradually deeper. I felt the cool air on my cheeks, the gentle ache in my legs, the rhythm of my steps. I realized how much tension I was holding—not just in my muscles, but in my heart.
Senses Wide Open: Rediscovering Wonder
With each step, I tried to open my senses a little more. I listened for the sounds I usually tune out—the distant hum of traffic, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the soft chirping of birds hidden in the trees. I breathed in the scent of autumn—earthy, sharp, and a little bittersweet. My hands brushed against rough bark, and I paused to notice the texture, the way it grounded me in the present.
I looked up and noticed the sky—overcast, a gentle blanket of gray that softened the world in a way that felt both quiet and comforting. There were no pinks or blues today, just the muted tones of a sky preparing for winter. And yet, even in that grayness, I felt a thread of connection—to my roots, my family, and my own sense of possibility. Sometimes, inspiration isn’t found in the bright colors, but in the soft, contemplative moments that ask us to slow down and really see.
Changing My Space: A Physical and Mental Shift
As part of this commitment to change, today I also decided to rearrange my house—a symbolic and practical fresh start. I moved my workstation downstairs, setting up in front of the window where the light is best. There’s something about being in the heart of the house, surrounded by the gentle rhythm of daily life, that feels more inspiring than being tucked away upstairs in a bedroom. Downstairs, I can watch the world go by, feel the energy of my family moving through the space, and soak in the natural light that always seems to spark new ideas. It’s a small shift, but it feels like a big step toward reclaiming my creativity and making my work feel less isolated and more alive.
The Cost of Autopilot: Missing the Magic
It hit me how much I’ve been missing by living on autopilot. The little moments—Matthew’s laughter echoing from the kitchen, the warmth of my favorite mug in the morning, the way a new skein of yarn feels in my hands—these are the things that make life rich. When I’m not paying attention, I miss the magic. And the magic is what keeps me going, even when life feels overwhelming.
Creativity as Presence: Weaving Mindfulness Into My Art
As a creator, I’ve always believed that creativity is portable. I can crochet in a hotel room, sketch a new pattern on a plane, or dream up a story while waiting for orders. But true creativity isn’t just about making things—it’s about noticing. It’s about being present enough to see the beauty in the ordinary, to let inspiration find you in the middle of the mess.
Today’s walk reminded me that my best ideas come when I’m paying attention. When I notice the way light filters through a window, or the way a story unfolds in a quiet moment. Mindfulness isn’t just good for my mental health—it’s the fuel for my art, my business, and my sense of belonging.
The Restart: Permission to Begin Again
If you’re reading this and feeling stuck in a rut, please know you’re not alone. Military life is a series of restarts—new duty stations, new routines, new challenges. It’s easy to feel like you have to have it all together, to keep moving forward no matter what. But today, I’m giving myself permission to begin again. To show up imperfectly. To notice the world around me and let it change me, one mindful moment at a time.
Mindful Action: A Simple Invitation
I’m not promising to be present every second. Old habits die hard, and life is still busy. But I am promising to try—to carve out a little space each day for wonder, for noticing, for being fully here. Today, that looked like a mindful walk. Tomorrow, it might be a few quiet moments with my crochet hook or a cup of tea at sunrise.
If you’re craving a restart, I invite you to join me. Step outside, even for a few minutes. Notice what you hear, see, smell, and feel. Let yourself be surprised by what you find.
Community Connection: Your Stories Matter
One of my favorite things about Wondering.Waves is the way our stories connect us. I’d love to hear about your own restarts—big or small. Have you ever caught yourself living on autopilot? What helps you return to the present? Share your mindful moments in the comments, or tag #WonderingWavesMindfulWalk so we can inspire each other.
Military spouse or not, we all need reminders to live for the moment. Here’s to noticing the magic, one step at a time.
With gratitude and hope for new beginnings,
Latosha