
This afternoon I sat bare on the floor, no cushion. At first there was someone on the phone nearby. I tried ignoring it, then chose a guided track as a shield. When it ended, I stayed in silence, scanning my body.
I noticed how quickly my system drifts into shutdown — that half-asleep heaviness when nerves feel overwhelmed. It’s not me avoiding; it’s the old reflex of a body that once learned silence wasn’t safe. My nervous system still braces and hides. But today I stayed. I noticed. That alone is progress.
Earlier this morning I also sat, about 25 minutes. It felt rushed — my mind was already on the tasks I had to do. Still, I showed up. And from now on, I’m setting my schedule for long sits, not quick passes. The body and the mind both deserve that depth.
Training, eating, and sitting are re-attunements. Each says to my system: you’re safe, you can use your energy fully. Over time, this rhythm of deliberate training plus deep stillness will be what grows me.
Guided tracks aren’t crutches; they’re tactical tools when noise intrudes. The intent behind them matters more than the format. And in truth, silence is where the potency lives — the raw space where the body stops lying and shows what it really feels.
The shift is real: from hating myself and thinking something was wrong, to loving myself with all the baggage. In that love, the world begins to readjust. I don’t need violent music or masks. I train and sit in silence, letting authentic energy fuel me.
Each sit plants a flag. Old forms vanish. A freer form emerges.