No matter where you go, there you are

I was thinking about playing with a phrase earlier today:
“No matter where you go, there you are.”

It isn’t exactly profound. It’s more like a platitude. It sounds like it means a lot, but if you think about it just long enough, you realize it doesn’t really mean much at all. It sounds impressive, but it’s basically the same thing as saying, “And then I remembered the most important thing — grass is green.”

Well yes. We all know grass is green. And we all know where we are.
Or do we?

What does it actually mean to know where you are?

Someone coming out of an accident might say, “Where am I?” — and that would make sense. No one asks that question when they already know the answer. And unless a person is physically lost, they usually do know where they are. Even if they are lost, they can still say things like, “I’m in the U.S.,” or “Clearly I’m in a canoe on a river.”

So that phrase doesn’t seem very helpful in that context either.

But then there’s this other phrase:
“Meet people where they are.”

Oh.

Now that means something.

That’s no longer about geography or orientation. That’s about personhood. Where are they? Suddenly becomes a deep question. A humbling one, too. I’ll admit it openly: I don’t really know where people are. Even people I’ve known for decades — I simply don’t.

And yet, we’re told to meet people where they are.
How could we possibly do that?

This is where the most important part comes in. Probably the most important thing in any human relationship: trust.

If another person experiences me as trustworthy, something deeply endearing happens. They tell me where they are. That’s honestly the only way I know of to find out.

Which leads me to a bigger question — not for you, but for me:

Do I actually know where I am?
Or do I just think I do?

Those are two very different things.

I know people who believe they are holy. That’s where they are. You can feel it when you’re around them — they behave as though they live in a sacred place. Others act as if they’re seated on a throne. They tell me things like, “I think of myself as royalty,” and I quietly think, Ah… I see where you are. Or more politely, I get where you’re coming from.

Which, now that I think about it, might say more about where they’ve been than where they are — but still, it’s location‑adjacent.

So if I return once more to that cute little phrase — “no matter where you go, there you are” — and tune it just a bit, the real question becomes this:

Where would I like my heart to be?

I think I would like it to be so at rest that the rest spreads to the people around me. The kind of rest that makes others feel lighter. That makes burdens feel less heavy.

So that when people are around me, they think instinctively,
Oh… I like where he’s coming from.
And maybe even, I really like where he is.

That, I think, is where I’d like to be — no matter where I go.
Perhaps you’re like me, and you’d like that too. ❤️