On the discomfort of the unknown, and the relief of not needing every answer. We’ve all experienced those nights where we just cannot get the mind to stand down. Something is unresolved. A conversation that did not land right, a decision you cannot yet make, a result you are waiting on. You turn it over and over, looking for the angle that will finally let you put it down. But the information is not there, the answer has not arrived, and still the mind keeps reaching, because

On how the inner life feeds on itself, and how attention is where you break the cycle. Picture a moment that did not go your way. A message lands wrong, or a conversation turns, and within a few seconds a great deal is happening all at once. There is a heat in the chest or a drop in the stomach. There is a wave of hurt or anger or fear. (Or all three!) There is a story running about what they mean… and what it says about you… and what you will do next. Your attention narrows

On the felt thing in the middle, and the two things that arrive with it but are not it. You glance at your phone. A short message, a few words, no warmth in them. Before you have consciously decided anything, your chest tightens, your stomach drops. You feel it. On top of that, a story is already running. What did they mean by that? Did I do something? You go back and reread the message you just sent, trying to work out how they might be taking it. Here we go again. Thirty se

On the body's direct contact with the world, and the layer of experience that is happening before we name it. Right now, whether you have noticed it or not, something is touching you. The chair is holding your weight, or the floor is pressing up through your feet. There is fabric against your skin. The air in the room has a temperature, and your skin is reporting it. None of this stopped while you were reading. It was all happening the entire time, below the level of notice,

On the most familiar kind of content, and how easy it is to mistake it for the whole of who we are. You are driving, or walking, or standing in the shower, and you notice that an argument is underway. Someone said a thing. You are responding. They are countering. You have a better line ready this time. There is heat in it. The only odd detail is that none of this is happening. The other person is not here. The conversation has not occurred, and may never occur. And yet for a

On the difference between the space where experience happens and the things that happen in it. A thought arises as you read this sentence. Perhaps a thought about whether you agree with what you are reading. Perhaps a thought about what to make for dinner. Perhaps just a stray observation about the room you are in. Whatever it is, notice that it arose. The very act of noticing a thought also indicates that there is a "something" doing the noticing. Something that is not the t

On the act of directing your awareness, and what it is not. You are standing at the kitchen counter waiting for the kettle to boil. Your eyes dash around. They are on the kettle, the dishes in the sink, yesterday's mail on the counter. Your hand is resting on the counter. The kettle has yet to whistle. In this moment, where is your attention? For many of us it is somewhere else entirely. It is on what happened earlier. It is on what is coming next. It is on the conversation y

On the words we don't have for what is happening inside us, and why having them matters. It's 3am. You wake up with a feeling. You are not sure what it is. Is it anxiousness? Are you scared? Is it just that your bedroom is too hot? The mind, always at the ready to provide an explanation, gets to work immediately. It offers narratives that fit the limited data it has. Maybe it was that conversation yesterday. Maybe it's the thing at work. Maybe it's something old, something de