A Return to Silence

MOVE

Some weeks, the mind is just noisy. Not anxious. Not dramatic. Just constantly talking.

Work is moving. Tasks are getting done. But the background chatter doesn’t stop.

Breath awareness, pauses, all the familiar anchors—forgotten. Absent, despite effort.

Then something breaks the rhythm.

A sudden jolt. A moment that doesn’t cooperate.

For me, it can be a line in a book.

Or hearing something unexpectedly precise.

Last week, it was this sentence:

“Rationality or irrationality is defined in action, not in thought.”

And without effort, everything pauses.

I stop what I’m doing.

SEE

What follows isn’t calm.

It’s silence.

Not the pleasant kind.

The kind that feels almost too loud—

as if sound and surroundings briefly fall away.

Nothing to hold onto.

No thought rushing in to fill the gap.

The body settles before the mind understands.

Breath slows. Posture changes.

REFLECT

I’m beginning to see silence less as a practice

and more as a return.

It doesn’t stay.

It doesn’t need to.

Even once or twice a week is enough—

at work, mid-decision, mid-movement.

That brief silence restores something fundamental.

Not energy. Not clarity.

Just what I am. And where I am.

Maybe this is what people point to when they say “silence is God.”

Not a belief.

Not an experience to chase.

Just moments when the mind steps aside,

and life resumes without narration.