Quieting the Mind

It’s not you, it’s your thoughts.

“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.”
—Rumi

When the Mind Gets Loud

For most of my life, my mind never stopped. It analyzed, predicted, replayed. I was constantly scanning situations, trying to read how I was being seen, trying to manage perception. I’d leave conversations and replay every word, convinced I’d said something wrong or looked foolish.

It was exhausting.

At work, the constant self-consciousness made me miss details, hesitate in meetings, and second-guess myself to the point of paralysis. Even in relationships, I wasn’t fully present. I was stuck in my head, trapped in analysis, disconnected from experience.

By the time I went through my divorce, the anxiety that had always simmered beneath the surface became impossible to ignore.

What’s Really Happening

When your nervous system lives in a constant state of alert, your mind takes on the role of protector. It tries to think its way out of discomfort by analyzing, predicting, problem-solving. That’s the mind’s job. But when it runs unchecked, it keeps the stress loop alive.

Every thought of “what if” or “what will they think” signals danger to the body. The sympathetic nervous system responds as if there’s a threat, flooding the body with stress hormones. The body tightens. The mind races harder.

Quieting the mind interrupts that loop. Each time you observe a thought without reacting, focus on your breathing, or shift awareness into your body, you send a powerful signal of safety. Over time, that becomes your new baseline.

Learning to Be Still

In my endless search for things to make me feel better, I kept hearing about meditation and how it could help with anxiety and racing thoughts. It sounded like the perfect tool to add to my growing toolbox of healing practices. I imagined myself sitting peacefully, mind quiet and clear. The reality was quite different.

I absolutely sucked at meditation. My thoughts wouldn’t stop. I’d close my eyes and immediately start replaying conversations, making to-do lists, analyzing my feelings. Every few seconds, another thought would take over.

But I kept at it.

One book that deeply influenced me was The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer (one of my true game changers, linked on my Resources page). Singer describes the practice of “falling behind” your thoughts.

“When your thoughts start, you do not have to go with them.”

I tried to channel that idea in my meditation. I started visualizing a waterfall and imagining myself stepping behind it, letting my thoughts become the water flowing in front of me. I would notice them, acknowledge them, and let them pass. Eventually, I learned to settle behind the thoughts instead of letting them crash down on me.

I started accessing that same sense of spaciousness during Myofascial Release (MFR) and Network Spinal Analysis (NSA) sessions. I could find it at night when my mind raced before sleep. I began With each small practice, I realized that stillness wasn’t about controlling thoughts or getting caught up in them—it was about not reacting to them.

The Practice of Non-Reaction

“Non-reaction is a synonym of equanimity… a balance of mind that is free from immediate and unconscious judgment.”
—Yung Pueblo

That line captures what quieting the mind really means. It’s not about silencing thought. It’s about finding space between stimulus and response.

When you can pause and observe your automatic, impulsive emotional or behavioral responses, you begin to notice the pattern beneath the thoughts. Is this fear of rejection? The need to be perfect? The belief that I’m not enough?

That awareness changes everything.

Over time, as you practice non-reaction, you start to adjust your responses and make different choices—choices that are more intentional and aligned with who you are. This is how you quiet your mind, stay present and centered, and prevent your thoughts from dictating how you move through the world.

Simple Ways to Practice

There are many types of meditation, and in my opinion, there’s really no right or wrong way to do it. Just allowing yourself time each day to sit quietly, fully present and in your body, is enough.

Focus on your breathing. Let yourself fall behind your thoughts. When a thought comes up, acknowledge it, let it pass by, and gently guide your attention back to your breath.

You don’t need to commit to hours of meditation. Ten minutes a day is enough. Unless, of course, you want to go deeper.

A few years into my meditation practice, I attended a four-day silent retreat. It was one of the most profound experiences of my life. A kind of closure for everything I’d been healing. Sitting hour after hour in silence, I could feel myself grounding into a new sense of calm and clarity. I left feeling lighter, as if I’d finally set down the final pieces of who I used to be.

I’ll share more about that experience in a future post.

Integration

Practicing these techniques regularly, especially when I’m not triggered, has built a kind of muscle memory. And over time, accessing them in moments of stress has become second nature.

Quieting my mind didn’t silence it; it helped me integrate it. My thoughts have become less of a critic and more of a companion. I can think clearly and feel deeply. I’m learning to recognize the difference between the voice of fear and the voice of truth.

When all the chatter and fear subside, what’s left is a steady inner knowing. It doesn’t shout. It hums beneath the noise. A gentle nudge that feels true, not urgent.

Quieting the mind isn’t about detaching from life. It’s about tuning in to yourself, your body, and the deeper wisdom that’s always been there.