It must have happened to you: doing the school run, your mind still spinning with unfinished tasks from work, and just as you’re trying to process your own day, your child launches into their stories. They can’t wait to tell you everything — every detail, every laugh, every little drama. “The teacher told Jamie off big time for picking his nose right in the middle of class! Jamie even tried to stick a pencil up his nose — everyone was laughing, but the teacher was not happy with him at all.”

It’s fascinating, isn’t it? The human need to offload, to share every snippet of what we’ve experienced. While we adults tend to restrain ourselves, distilling our day down to a few highlights, children have a natural instinct to process everything out loud. They remind us of a truth we often overlook: talking things through is how we make sense of our lives. It’s how we connect, reflect, and let go. The daily recaps, the chatter about school and work, the things that went wrong and the things we’re dreaming of — that’s all part of being human.

That kind of innocent, unfiltered chatter carries on into adult life, though, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’ve noticed it yourself, with children coming back from school, eagerly sharing the day’s stories. We see it at the park, hear it on the train home, or on the phone when discussing the day. People vent about their boss’s latest demands, muse about quitting, even dream of moving to new cities. This need to share, to recount, seems almost instinctual, like the stories our children bring home after a long day at school or the dreams our partner recounts in the morning.

As social creatures, we need someone to reflect our stories back to us, to affirm that they’ve landed, been heard, and somehow made sense in the process. We are, it seems, a species that needs to chit-chat our way through life’s challenges. Yet today, I believe we’re growing detached from, even a bit dismissive of, this small talk, undervaluing it as if it’s unnecessary noise. Clients often start sessions with, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling,” or say, “the point is…” as if apologising for the act of processing itself. But what if there is no “point” beyond the act of speaking? What if the point is simply processing?

The term “processing” has found its place in our everyday vocabulary, especially in therapy. It’s not uncommon to hear, “I need to process my father’s passing,” or “I need to process the end of my marriage.” But what does it mean to process? I find analogies helpful here — simple, grounded concepts we can latch onto without overthinking.

In Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames, the Buddhist monk compares negative emotions to an unripe potato. Raw, unripe potatoes cannot be eaten; they need the heat of a sustained fire to become nourishing. “You need to keep the fire going for at least fifteen or twenty minutes,” he says. “You cannot eat raw potatoes.” Just as cooking makes potatoes digestible, allowing emotions time to simmer makes them more manageable, more adaptable. In therapy, the listener’s role is like a steady flame, helping those emotions simmer until they’re ready to be digested.

Therapists play a role in naming, validating, and nourishing these raw feelings, helping clients uncover meaning and acceptance. It’s like having potatoes in the kitchen. My role as both a father and therapist has been to help my children and clients recognise and work through their “potatoes” — the thoughts and feelings that need to be acknowledged to avoid spoiling. Ignore the potatoes, forget they’re there, and they begin to rot, emanating a sour odour that permeates the kitchen, a metaphor for how unprocessed emotions affect our mental and emotional well-being.

Of course, many clients would rather leave certain thoughts, emotions, and memories untouched. But it’s a bit like being emotionally constipated — holding onto unprocessed feelings that, over time, can weigh heavily on the mind and body. As with a dish full of spice and flavour, it’s these very emotions that bring depth to our lives when fully processed. Unlike potatoes, emotions are not optional. They’re an essential ingredient in the human experience. Imagine a day with no emotions — no joy, no sorrow. Is that even possible?

Thich Nhat Hanh also uses a beautiful analogy in The Energy of Prayer, describing the mind as filled with tangled knots of “delusion, repression, fear, and anxiety.” He explains that our health relies heavily on transforming these knots. Just as poor circulation in the body causes illness, stagnant emotions create physical and mental imbalances.

Processing, then, is not a luxury; it’s fundamental. Where this need sits on Maslow’s pyramid, I’m not quite sure, but I suspect it’s near the foundation.

Imagine you’ve been grinding through a mountain of tasks. Emails, reports, calls — it’s relentless. Ever wonder why, by the end of it, even the simplest tasks feel exhausting? Well, it turns out there’s more going on in your head than just “feeling tired.” A recent study from the Immanuel Kant Baltic Federal University sheds light on what’s really happening upstairs when we push ourselves to the mental limit.

The brain’s frontal and parietal lobes usually work together as a power duo to keep us on track, helping us process information, make decisions, and stay efficient. But here’s the catch: prolonged mental exertion weakens the connection between these areas. So, if you’re feeling that post-meeting brain fog or struggling with simple tasks after hours of intense work, you’re actually experiencing your brain’s reduced connectivity. It’s like when your Wi-Fi signal drops bars — the connection isn’t as strong, and everything slows down.

But here’s the fascinating part: the brain has a built-in “compensatory mechanism.” That’s a fancy way of saying your brain knows when it’s struggling and adjusts itself to keep things moving, especially when faced with more complex tasks.

Simple vs. Complex Tasks: Why Fatigue Affects Us Differently

Let’s put this into perspective. The researchers ran an experiment where participants had to complete a memory task — the kind that gradually gets more complex. For simple tasks, like remembering two or three letters, fatigue made participants slower. Their brains, already exhausted, didn’t bother mobilising extra resources because, well, the task was “easy.”

But when things got complicated, with six or seven letters to remember, the brain kicked into gear. It pulled out all the stops, activating those compensatory mechanisms to bridge the gap, keeping performance steady despite fatigue. It’s like when you’re reading a long, dry report, and your attention starts to drift, but the moment the boss asks you a question about it, you’re suddenly alert and focused. Your brain recognises the need to engage and kicks into gear.

Why This Matters for Productivity and Resilience

So, what’s the takeaway? We now know that our brains are not machines that just power down when exhausted. Instead, they adapt, focusing resources where they’re most needed. This adaptability is key for productivity, especially in high-stakes or high-demand jobs.

Imagine if we could harness this knowledge to work smarter. You could structure your day to alternate between simple and complex tasks, letting your brain recover when it doesn’t need to push hard and reserving your mental energy for tougher challenges. This could be game-changing for fields that demand prolonged focus, from coding to law to, well, anything that involves heavy mental lifting.

And here’s the kicker: knowing this, we can build a bit of mental resilience. Fatigue may simply be your brain’s way of saying: “Hang on, mate, I’m adjusting things here!” The more you understand your limits, the better you can use these clever compensatory mechanisms. You might even find yourself thriving under pressure because, let’s face it, your brain is wired to throw all its best bits at the most crucial tasks.

But here’s a thought — what happens if we’re constantly leaning on this clever backup system, squeezing every last bit out of it? The research doesn’t quite cover this, does it? So I think it’s a question worth asking. Perhaps it’s a bit like when we’re running on empty, and suddenly we get that last burst of “hunter’s energy.” You know, the kind that kicks in and says, “Right! Time to find something to eat!” The brain, bless it, seems to keep a final reserve — like an emergency stash — that spurs us forward just when we think we’re done. Maybe it’s another adaptive mechanism, with the brain pulling out its last stash of energy to help us find a solution. At first, we might even speed up — as if the brain’s saying, “Alright, then, let’s go find that meal!” But eventually, without a real refuel, things start to go a bit sideways. The energy reserves start to deplete, the clarity fades, and soon it’s all a blur. And perhaps it doesn’t stop there — first, it’s minor ailments, the odd headache or a dip in focus, but who knows what might follow if we keep pushing? So, perhaps a pause now and again wouldn’t hurt.

Practical Tips: How to Work With Your Brain, Not Against It

So, how can we use these findings in real life? Here are some thoughts from my overdriven brain 😊 — take them or leave them!

1. Structure your day in manageable parts: Tackle complex tasks in bursts and follow them up with simpler tasks. Your brain will thank you.

2. Take Recovery Breaks: Give your mind downtime, especially after intense focus sessions. Think of these breaks as a chance to restore connectivity between the frontal and parietal lobes.

3. Pay Attention to Fatigue Signals: When you’re dragging on simple tasks, don’t beat yourself up. Recognise it as a sign that your brain is conserving energy for bigger challenges.

4. Use Complexity to Your Advantage: If you’re tired but need to push through, switch to a task that demands your focus. Sometimes, complex challenges can wake up your brain’s “compensatory mechanisms,” helping you refocus.

The Bigger Picture: Redefining Fatigue

Fatigue, it turns out, isn’t just a symptom of working too hard; it’s a signal of your brain’s adaptability. Our minds are designed to adjust, shift, and optimise for survival. The better we understand these mechanisms, the more we can tap into our true potential, even under pressure.

So next time you’re feeling completely knackered, don’t think of it as hitting a dead end. Instead, see it as your brain’s way of telling you it’s adjusting for the next big thing. With the right mindset, we can not only sustain our productivity but build mental resilience in the process.

There you have it — a sneak peek at how our brains muddle through under pressure, brought to you by the latest from the experts in neuroscience. Funny thing is, it all ties back rather nicely to some thoughts I jotted down in:

• Learning from Sloths: 4 Lessons in Survival, Perception, Unconscious Intelligence, and a Bit of Fun (#7)
• A Centering Prayer: Let Your True Nature Embrace You (#14)
• The Unexpected Power of Procrastination (#16)
• Enjoy the Silence? Nah, Studies Show We’d Rather Have an Electric Shock! (#18)
• Sit Down with James, and the Feelings from the Darkest Hour (19#)

Honestly, I’m finding myself more and more sceptical of all these “overcome procrastination” self-help books and pep talks. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re more exhausting than the procrastination itself — especially for those simple tasks when the brain is knackered! 😊

It must have been something extraordinary to stand in the audience of a James concert, feeling that raw, collective energy. Larry Gott, the guitarist and songwriter, shared with The Guardian that the song Sit Down emerged almost by accident, through improvisation. “I remember everyone laughing after the first playthrough. It felt so stupid,” he recalled, “but we knew it could be special.” That spontaneity, that touch of magic, must have carried over to every performance, creating an experience that felt simultaneously intimate and universal.

Watching videos of their concerts, you can sense this unique connection — the entire crowd erupting as the chorus begins, as if those simple words, “Oh sit down,” struck a primal chord. People jump, they lose themselves, recognising their own stories in the lines. “I sing myself to sleep, a song from the darkest hour,” Booth sings, voicing the secrets, fears, and doubts we often keep hidden. But somehow, in that shared moment, the song’s darkness doesn’t isolate; it unites.

Suddenly, the words “Now I’ve swung back down again” resonate not as a lonely confession but as a collective acknowledgement of life’s inevitable ups and downs. There’s a power in those lines — “In love, in fear, in hate, in tears.” It’s as if Booth is telling us: you’re not alone in this. Your darkness, your emotions, these aren’t burdens you have to bear in isolation. The song becomes a space where everyone is invited to simply sit with it all.

There’s something almost rebellious in this invitation to stop, to rest, to sit with whatever we’re feeling. I am sure that clients who come to therapy with the idea of being “fixed” may be puzzled or confused by the lyrics or by my words, but many must have found a “therapy song” — a method for when things get bad, something that brings them back.

Sitting with your feelings is a practice of mindfulness and emotional intelligence that allows us to be fully present with our internal experiences. It’s a skill that promotes personal growth, self-awareness, and emotional resilience. Here are 15 ways to master this practice and transform the way you engage with your emotions, along with additional techniques to deepen the experience.

1. Get Curious About Your Feelings

The first step to sitting with your emotions is curiosity. Instead of reacting or pushing the feeling away, ask yourself why it’s come up. What triggered this emotion? Is there an underlying need or unresolved issue that’s surfacing? Emotions are signals — messages from your mind and body that something needs attention. Curiosity helps you understand the root of the emotion and provides insight into what you may need to address.

Curiosity also removes judgement. It allows you to view your feelings as neutral information rather than something negative to be avoided. By approaching your emotions with curiosity, you shift from avoidance to exploration, which fosters emotional growth.

2. Notice Your Feelings Without Judgement

One of the biggest obstacles to emotional growth is judgement. We often label emotions as ‘bad’ or ‘good,’ but emotions are simply part of the human experience. Learning to notice your feelings without attaching labels to them helps you become more mindful and less reactive.

When you stop judging your emotions, you create space to feel them fully. Instead of criticising yourself for feeling angry or anxious, you allow the emotion to be present without adding a layer of guilt or shame. This non-judgemental awareness is key to sitting with your emotions in a healthy way.

3. Practise Compassionate Self-Talk

When difficult emotions arise, our inner critic often takes over, making us feel worse. It’s essential to counter this voice with compassionate self-talk. Instead of harshly telling yourself to “get over it” or “stop feeling this way,” practise speaking to yourself kindly.

Ask yourself, “How would I talk to a friend who’s going through this?” The goal is to offer yourself the same level of kindness and understanding you would give to others. Compassionate self-talk soothes emotional distress and helps you develop a more nurturing relationship with yourself.

4. Notice Your Breathing

When emotions run high, your body reacts. You might notice a tight chest, shallow breaths, or a racing heart. Paying attention to your breathing is a powerful way to anchor yourself in the present moment. Slow, deep breaths can help calm your nervous system and bring clarity to your mind.

Mindful breathing not only helps manage the intensity of emotions but also makes it easier to stay present. When you focus on your breath, you create a pause — a moment to ground yourself and observe your feelings without getting swept away by them.

5. Ask Yourself: What Is This Feeling Telling You?

Every emotion holds a message. Whether it’s frustration, joy, or sadness, your emotions are trying to communicate something. Take a moment to reflect: What is this feeling telling me? What do I need to pay attention to in my life?

For example, if you’re feeling anxious, it could be a sign that something in your environment needs to change. If you’re feeling sad, maybe there’s a loss you haven’t fully processed. Asking these questions helps you uncover the deeper meaning behind your emotions and encourages you to address the root cause rather than just the symptoms.

6. Stay Mindful and Present

Mindfulness is the practice of staying grounded in the present moment, without letting your mind drift into the past or future. When sitting with your emotions, it’s crucial to stay mindful. This means observing your feelings as they are right now, without letting them carry you away.

Mindfulness doesn’t mean ignoring your emotions. Instead, it allows you to experience them fully without becoming overwhelmed. It’s about letting the emotion pass through you, recognising that emotions are temporary and that you don’t have to be defined by them.

7. Notice Where You Feel the Emotion in Your Body

Emotions aren’t just mental experiences; they show up physically too. You might feel tension in your shoulders, a knot in your stomach, or a tightness in your chest. By noticing where in your body the emotion is manifesting, you can become more aware of how emotions affect you physically.

This body awareness helps you stay present and connected to your feelings. It also provides an opportunity to release physical tension through relaxation techniques like deep breathing or stretching, further helping you process the emotion.

8. Look Beneath the Loudest Feelings

Sometimes the emotions we feel on the surface aren’t the full story. For instance, anger may be masking sadness, or anxiety could be hiding fear. Sitting with your feelings means digging a little deeper — asking yourself what else you might be feeling beneath the loudest emotion.

By doing this, you gain greater insight into the complexities of your emotional world. It’s often the quieter emotions, the ones we don’t immediately notice, that hold the key to our growth and healing.

9. Practise Compassionate Self-Talk Again

Yes, it’s worth repeating. As you sit with your emotions, continue to offer yourself compassion. Emotional processing takes time, and it’s essential to be patient and kind to yourself throughout the process. If the feelings persist, don’t rush to “fix” them — sometimes the best way to heal is simply to be present and let yourself feel what you need to feel.

10. Creative Expression

Sometimes, sitting with feelings can involve active processing through creativity. Journaling, painting, writing, or even playing music can help you express emotions that are difficult to articulate. Creative outlets offer a healthy release and often lead to unexpected insights about what you’re feeling.

11. Physical Movement

While sitting still with emotions is important, so is mindful movement. Gentle activities like yoga, walking, or stretching can help you stay connected to your emotions while also grounding you in your body. This kind of physical engagement encourages emotional flow without overwhelming you.

12. Self-Soothing Techniques

Simple self-soothing activities, like holding a warm cup of tea, using essential oils, or wearing a soft blanket, can help comfort you while you process your emotions. Engaging your senses in a calming way provides relief and helps create a safe space for emotional reflection.

13. Grounding Exercises

When emotions feel intense, grounding techniques can bring you back to the present moment. Focusing on your five senses or naming things you can see, hear, or touch around you helps centre you, making it easier to manage and process your feelings.

14. Talking to Someone Trusted

While sitting with your feelings often requires internal work, sharing your emotions with someone you trust can also be a way to process them. Whether it’s a friend, family member, or therapist, having a conversation about what you’re feeling can offer perspective and support.

15. Listen to James and Remember You’re Not Alone

Listening to Sit Down is a reminder that you are part of a Sangha, as Thich Nhat Hanh would say — a community that holds both joy and suffering together. The words, “In love, in fear, in hate, in tears,” wash over you, calling forth a deep truth: your emotions are not yours alone. These emotions become a gathering place, a refuge where you recognise that the feelings you hold are shared by many. Here, in this moment, you can rest in the comfort of knowing you belong to something larger — a human family, each of us walking this journey together.

Final Thoughts:

Sitting with your feelings isn’t easy. It requires patience, mindfulness, and a willingness to face discomfort. But the rewards are immense. In the end, emotional intelligence begins with this simple but profound skill: learning to sit with what you feel.

Anything else you think we could add to the list to help sit with our feelings?

“Enjoy the Silence” is a classic song by the British band Depeche Mode, released in 1990. Written by Martin Gore, the song captures themes of introspection, longing, and the peace found in silence. It remains one of Depeche Mode’s most beloved songs, resonating with listeners who find comfort in stillness and self-reflection. Yet, in today’s hyper-stimulated world, silence may be fading into the past, replaced by an endless need for noise and activity.

In a fascinating study led by psychologist Timothy Wilson, researchers uncovered just how uncomfortable we’ve grown with silence. In a series of experiments, participants were asked to sit alone in a room without distractions for just 6 to 15 minutes. Surprisingly, many found the experience so unbearable that, when given a choice, they opted to give themselves mild electric shocks rather than sit quietly with their thoughts. This finding speaks volumes about our relationship with silence — or rather, our struggle with it.

Despite the popular phrase “silence is golden,” when faced with true quiet, many of us feel anxious, even trapped. If silence is so valuable, why do we find it so challenging? Wilson’s study suggests that modern life, filled with constant noise and stimulation, has eroded our capacity to sit comfortably in our own company. So, let’s explore what makes silence so unsettling and what we stand to gain if we learn to embrace it.

Finding Strength in Solitude

Learning to embrace silence isn’t about isolation but about cultivating inner strength and clarity. As we grow more comfortable with ourselves, we naturally deepen our capacity for genuine connection with others. Solitude can make us stronger, more self-aware, and resilient to life’s pressures. In the words of philosopher Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Perhaps it’s time we re-learn this simple, powerful skill.

In our culture, there’s an unspoken pressure to always be “productive” or at least busy, so much so that it feels strange to pause without a clear objective. We’ve grown accustomed to filling every moment of downtime, whether with a podcast on our commute, messages on our phones, or binge-watching a series as we unwind. The art of silence — of doing absolutely nothing — has become nearly obsolete.

Why We Avoid Solitude

Why does silence feel so unsettling? One reason may be that sitting in quiet allows for the thoughts we often ignore to surface. With no external stimulation, we might find ourselves face-to-face with worries, unresolved issues, or even self-criticism we’re usually too busy to address. When left in silence, we encounter the mental backlog we usually keep at bay.

Another reason could be our constant stimulation from digital media. We’re used to a steady stream of information, entertainment, and social updates that offer quick dopamine hits. When we remove these instant gratifications, we’re left with the “boring” task of self-reflection, which can initially feel uncomfortable and, quite frankly, slow.

The Hidden Benefits of Solitude and Quietness

Yet, learning to be comfortable in solitude holds powerful benefits. Research shows that quiet time can lead to greater creativity, better problem-solving, and enhanced emotional resilience. Sitting in silence allows our minds to wander freely, an activity that has been shown to spark creative ideas and help us process experiences more deeply. Even short periods of solitude have been associated with improved mental clarity and calm.

Quietness is also an opportunity to connect with our values and priorities. Without the constant influx of other people’s ideas, we can clarify what’s truly important to us. This space for self-reflection can lead to better decision-making, as we’re not merely reacting to external stimuli but instead acting from a place of inner alignment.

How to Reclaim Our Capacity for Silence

Reclaiming silence doesn’t mean abandoning all external distractions overnight. Like any skill, comfort with quietness takes practice. Here are a few ways to start:

1. Begin Small: Start with just a few minutes each day. Set aside time in the morning or before bed to sit quietly without distractions. You can increase the duration as it becomes more comfortable.
2. Try Mindfulness Practices: Activities like meditation, mindful breathing, or simply observing your surroundings without judgment can help build familiarity with silence. The key is to let go of expectations and approach these moments with curiosity rather than an agenda.
3. Embrace ‘Micro-Silences’: Find small gaps in your day to be quiet, such as during a commute, waiting in line, or even in the shower. Use these moments to let your mind wander without reaching for your phone or a podcast.
4. Reflect Through Journaling: Writing down thoughts and feelings can serve as a bridge between constant activity and stillness. It offers a structured way to process thoughts that might arise in quiet moments, making silence feel less intimidating over time.

Finding Strength in Solitude

Learning to embrace silence isn’t about isolation but about cultivating inner strength and clarity. As we grow more comfortable with ourselves, we naturally deepen our capacity for genuine connection with others. Solitude can make us stronger, more self-aware, and resilient to life’s pressures. In the words of philosopher Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Perhaps it’s time we re-learn this simple, powerful skill.

P.S. I know you won’t resist putting Enjoy the Silence on now — I don’t blame you. 😉

Client (C): Do you know any psychiatrist in London?
Therapist (T): Yes, I do.
C: Could you tell me their name?
T: It seems to me that when you really want something, you’re quite capable of finding it yourself.
C: Thank you. That’s what I do — I tend to manipulate people, and they do things for me.

Thanks to this insightful, psychologically minded client who has graciously given me permission to share this exchange for the purpose of reflection and learning

I must confess, I didn’t expect that “thank you” to follow. Moments like these remind us that helping others often requires more than good intentions. We all want the best for those we care about. Whether it’s a friend going through a tough time or a family member struggling with life’s burdens, the instinct is to step in, to provide relief, to make things easier.

But here’s the paradox: there’s a fine line between compassion and enabling. Both stem from a place of care, yet their outcomes diverge dramatically. In trying to help, we sometimes weaken the very people we aim to support, diminishing our compassion’s true power.

Compassion, at its core, goes beyond empathy. It’s about understanding someone’s pain and having the desire to alleviate it. It involves being present, validating their experiences, and offering support while also creating the conditions for growth. It’s about creating a space where someone feels supported in their journey without losing sight of their responsibility to face their own challenges. Compassion is active listening, asking if they need help, and holding firm boundaries even when it’s difficult — all while encouraging the other person to take ownership of their path.

On the other hand, enabling often looks like compassion but is driven by a different motive. While compassion is based on love and respect, enabling is often rooted in fear — fear of conflict, of being disliked, or of seeing the other person struggle. Enabling is when we justify someone’s behaviour, take on their responsibilities, or allow them to violate our boundaries to avoid confrontation. It’s about trying to fix things for them rather than encouraging them to take accountability for their actions.

In both compassion and enabling, there’s a deep desire to help someone feel better, but the way we go about it makes all the difference.

The Blind Spots: Helping Others See

One of the most significant differences between compassion and enabling lies in how we deal with the blind spots in others’ lives. We all have blind spots — those areas where we are unaware of behaviours or patterns that hinder our growth.

Compassion doesn’t mean shielding someone from these blind spots. In fact, true compassion involves gently guiding others to see what they might be missing. It’s not about criticising or calling out their flaws; rather, it’s about collecting the patterns in their story and, like a jigsaw, showing them how the pieces fit together. It’s about saying, “Look, this is happening, and this is where you’re headed.”

When we enable, however, we prevent people from seeing their blind spots by taking on their challenges for them. We step in too quickly, trying to solve their problems or provide a quick fix, which prevents them from reflecting and growing. Let’s take cognitive biases as an example. Cognitive biases are mental shortcuts that often skew our perception, much like viewing the world through dirty lenses or, at times, no lenses at all. In a way, a good therapist or friend is like an optician — helping you find the right “prescription” for clearer thinking. A compassionate approach helps individuals break through these biases, offering them fresh perspectives and insights.

For example, let’s say a client in therapy continually blames others for their struggles. Compassion in therapy means holding up a mirror at the right moment, presenting them with patterns they may not want to see but need to work through. It’s about creating a moment of realisation, not to criticise, but to empower them with the awareness to change.

Helping others see their blind spots is one of the most powerful ways we can support them. It means asking thoughtful questions, making gentle observations, and encouraging them to think deeply about their actions — sometimes pointing out things they don’t want to hear. By allowing them the room to reflect, we help them gain clarity. They become more aware of what might be holding them back, without feeling attacked or judged.

Compassion, in this sense, becomes more than just emotional support. It becomes a tool for growth and transformation. We empower others to confront their challenges, not by doing the work for them, but by guiding them to find the answers within themselves.

Boundaries: The Unsung Heroes of Compassion

An often overlooked aspect of compassion is the importance of boundaries. Compassion doesn’t mean allowing others to walk all over us. On the contrary, setting and maintaining boundaries is an essential part of showing respect — both for ourselves and for the other person.

When we hold firm boundaries, we communicate that we trust the other person to handle their own issues. This doesn’t mean abandoning them but instead offering support in a way that encourages them to take responsibility for their own journey. Boundaries protect us from falling into the trap of enabling, where we might feel obliged to step in and take control of situations that aren’t ours to fix.

One critical boundary in therapy is time. It might feel like stretching a session beyond 60 minutes is helping, but in reality, it can have the opposite effect. By maintaining the agreed-upon time boundary, we teach clients to be mindful of their progress and to use their time wisely. In the long run, this not only helps them develop resilience and problem-solving skills that extend beyond the therapy room, but also encourages them to set and maintain healthy boundaries in their own lives.

The Danger of Enabling

Enabling, while often well-intentioned, can keep people stuck in unhealthy patterns. When we enable someone, we may think we’re helping them, but in reality, we’re shielding them from the consequences of their actions. We’re not giving them the space to grow, reflect, or make changes in their lives.

For example, if we constantly step in to fix things for someone — whether it’s financially, emotionally, or otherwise — we rob them of the opportunity to learn and take responsibility. Over time, this can foster dependence and prevent them from developing the skills they need to manage on their own.

Enabling also takes a toll on us. By constantly stepping in, we drain our own energy and resources, which can lead to burnout and resentment. Instead of fostering a healthy, mutually supportive relationship, enabling creates an imbalanced dynamic where one person is always the fixer and the other is always in need.

Shifting from Enabling to Empowering

Compassion, when practised with boundaries and self-awareness, is about empowerment. It’s about standing with someone, not for them. It’s about validating their experience without trying to take over. It’s about asking, “How can I support you?” rather than assuming we know what’s best for them.

By making this shift, we help others become more self-reliant and resilient. We teach them that they are capable of handling their own challenges and that we believe in their ability to grow. This is the true essence of compassion — offering unwavering support while creating the conditions for growth and independence.

So, I believe the question this article asks is: how can we truly support someone’s growth without taking away their ability to find their own strength?

We often see procrastination as the enemy — the thief of time, productivity, and success. We’re constantly told by books, experts, and productivity gurus that we must “overcome procrastination” or we’re simply being lazy. The pressure to always hustle and stay productive is overwhelming.

But what if procrastination isn’t the problem? What if it’s your body’s way of signalling something important about your energy and mental state?

Instead of resisting it, perhaps there’s value in listening. In Ecological Medicine by Dr. Sarah Myhill and Dr. Craig Robinson, they explain that energy isn’t just about how much you can lift or how far you can run — it’s the fuel that powers every single function of your body and brain.

The brain consumes an immense amount of energy, particularly when you are trying to solve problems, make decisions, or focus on complex tasks. When your energy supply is low, it impacts everything — not just your physical stamina, but also your mental clarity, motivation, and emotional balance.

This is where procrastination comes into play. It may not be laziness; it could actually be your brain’s way of signalling that it doesn’t have the energy to deal with the task at hand. When your energy reserves are depleted, pushing through isn’t always the best option. It can lead to more stress, frustration, and even burnout.

Energy, Anxiety, and Procrastination

In yoga, prana — the vital life force — is believed to flow through all living beings. It is the energy that sustains life and fuels both body and mind. Similarly, in biological terms, Adenosine Triphosphate (ATP) plays a comparable role. ATP is often referred to as the “energy currency” of the body because it provides the power necessary for all cellular functions, from conducting nerve impulses to muscle contractions. When your ATP levels are low, you can feel physically and mentally drained. Just like prana being blocked in the body, low ATP affects your ability to function, impacting focus and emotional well-being.

There’s a clear connection between anxiety and energy. When your energy levels drop, your brain goes into alert mode. It senses it may not have enough resources to handle the day’s demands, triggering anxiety. You start worrying about your ability to perform, and before long, you are stuck in a cycle of procrastination and anxiety.

Anxiety, then, isn’t merely a mental state — it’s a physiological response. As Ecological Medicine explains, when your energy delivery systems are running low, your brain struggles to cope with emotional, mental, and physical demands. It’s like trying to run a marathon on an empty tank. No matter how much you want to push forward, your body simply can’t keep up.

Procrastination as a Signal

Instead of viewing procrastination as something to fight, what if you saw it as a signal? When you find yourself avoiding tasks, it might be your body’s way of saying, “I need a break.” Rather than forcing yourself to push through, the solution might be to rest, recharge, and return with a clearer mind.

Procrastination often follows a feedback loop. You feel tired or unmotivated, so you delay a task. The longer you delay, the more anxious you become about not completing it. That anxiety drains even more of your energy, making it even harder to start. But once you recognise procrastination as a signal — not a personal failing — you can begin to approach it differently. You allow yourself to pause, refuel, and know that when your energy is restored, productivity will follow.

Breaking the Cycle

The key to breaking the procrastination-anxiety cycle is understanding it as a symptom of an underlying energy imbalance. By acknowledging that your brain needs energy — just as your body does — it becomes easier to disrupt the loop. Instead of forcing yourself to work harder when you’re already drained, you take a break, refuel, and then approach the task with renewed focus and clarity.

In Ecological Medicine, this is referred to as managing energy reserves. Just as a car requires fuel to run, your brain runs on energy in the form of ATP. And just as you wouldn’t expect a car to function on an empty tank, you can’t expect your brain to perform optimally without replenishing your energy reserves.

The Hidden Advantage of Procrastination

When viewed through this lens, procrastination can actually be a blessing. It’s an opportunity to check in with yourself, recognise when your energy is low, and give yourself the rest you need. Instead of seeing procrastination as wasted time, you can view it as a chance to recharge. When you return to your work, you’ll do so with greater clarity, focus, and creativity.

Anxiety and procrastination aren’t enemies — they are signals from your body, alerting you to an energy imbalance. By paying attention to these signals, you can stop the cycle before it spirals out of control. You can take care of yourself in a way that promotes better productivity, not just in the short term, but in the long run.

So, the next time you find yourself procrastinating, take a moment to pause. Ask yourself if your body is trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s time to rest. Maybe it’s time to replenish your prana and ATP. And when you come back to your task, you might find that your anxiety has eased, and your focus is sharper than ever.

In the end, it makes sense to me to approach procrastination with a pluralistic mindset, recognising that it’s influenced by multiple factors — biological, psychological, social, and environmental. Instead of falling into oversimplification bias, where procrastination is seen as something to simply “overcome,” we can view it as a complex behaviour that requires deeper understanding. By doing so, we allow ourselves to see procrastination not just as a hurdle, but as a valuable signal guiding us to address the real underlying issues.

If you liked this article, you might also enjoy:

• Learning from Sloths: 4 Lessons in Survival, Perception, Unconscious Intelligence, and a Bit of Fun #7
• Understanding Panic Attacks: A Day in the Life of Charlie Brown #15, where I explore the physiological and mechanical aspects of panic attacks in detail.

In this story, an adaptation from Schulz (please forgive me, Schulz fans, as I obviously can’t be as good as the original!), I’ve created a scenario where Charlie Brown experiences a panic attack. Following this fictional narrative, I’ve analysed some of the key aspects of his panic, offering insights into the symptoms, triggers, and internal dialogue that characterise his experience. As I said before, I’m nowhere near Schulz’s level, but on the other hand, my analysis and description of symptoms are definitely better than the DSM-5, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself! (The DSM-5 is a manual used by mental health professionals to diagnose and classify mental disorders.)

If you’re more interested in the analysis, feel free to skip to the second part of the article.

Please note that any reference to people or events is purely coincidental, and I am not borrowing any content from clients.

The story

Charlie Brown was preparing for another day at school. He had packed his lunch, double-checked his homework, and even polished his shoes. Yet, something gnawed at him deep inside, an unease he couldn’t quite shake off.

In the schoolyard, everyone was buzzing with excitement. Today was the big day — the day of the annual school talent show. Every year, Charlie watched from the sidelines as others showcased their talents, but this year, something was different. His friends had convinced him to sign up, but now that the moment was here, he regretted it.

What was I thinking? Charlie Brown thought to himself as he stood outside the gymnasium where the talent show was to take place. His heart thudded in his chest, and his palms were slick with sweat. His act — a simple magic trick with a deck of cards — seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, though, it felt like a monumental mistake.

Snoopy, his trusty dog, stood beside him, tail wagging as if to say, “You’ve got this!” But even Snoopy’s unwavering confidence couldn’t calm Charlie’s nerves.

“Hey, Charlie Brown!” Linus called out, waving his blanket as he approached. “You ready for the big show?”

Charlie tried to smile but ended up frowning. “I don’t know, Linus. My hands are shaking, and I can’t even think straight. What if I mess up? What if everyone laughs at me?”

Linus adjusted his blanket thoughtfully. “You’ve done this trick a hundred times in front of me, and you’ve always pulled it off. Don’t let your mind get the better of you.”

But Charlie’s mind was already spinning. His thoughts raced: What if I forget the trick? What if the cards fall? What if I make a fool of myself in front of the whole school? He began to feel a strange tightness in his chest. His breath came quicker, and his vision blurred at the edges.

He leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself, but his hands trembled uncontrollably. “Linus, I don’t feel so good,” Charlie muttered.

Linus, noticing the fear in Charlie’s eyes, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Charlie Brown, it’s okay. You’re just anxious. Take a deep breath.”

But Charlie couldn’t calm down. His mind was now racing faster than before. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. His throat felt tight, and it was like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“I’m having a panic attack,” Charlie whispered to himself. It was something he’d heard his teacher mention once, and now he knew what it felt like. His legs were weak, his stomach churned, and the feeling of dread hung over him like a storm cloud ready to burst.

Just as his world began to close in, he felt a familiar nudge on his leg. Snoopy, ever faithful, had nudged his head into Charlie’s knee and looked up at him with calm, loving eyes.

You’re not alone, those eyes seemed to say. And in that moment, Charlie realised he wasn’t alone. Linus was here, Snoopy was here, and somewhere inside him was the courage to face what he feared the most.

“I… I don’t think I can do it, Linus,” Charlie said quietly, his breath still shaky.

Linus smiled gently. “You don’t have to be perfect, Charlie Brown. Just try your best. Even if you make a mistake, it’s okay. We’ll all still be proud of you.”

Charlie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the warmth of Snoopy beside him. He felt the storm of panic begin to pass, like a wave that had hit its peak and was now gently receding. He could do this — not perfectly, but he could still try.

As his name was called, Charlie Brown stood up straight and gathered every ounce of bravery he had. He walked out onto the stage, the lights blinding him for a moment. His hands still shook, but he reminded himself of what Linus had said.

He fumbled with the deck of cards but managed to begin the trick. His voice wavered, and when he reached the grand reveal — the card his volunteer had picked — he realised with horror that it wasn’t the right one. The crowd was silent for a beat, and Charlie felt the familiar rush of embarrassment.

But then, something miraculous happened. Lucy, from the front row, shouted, “Nice try, Charlie Brown!” And to his surprise, the entire audience erupted into applause — warm, genuine applause.

Charlie Brown’s face flushed, but this time it wasn’t from shame. He grinned, a wide, goofy grin that spread across his face. He had done it — not perfectly, but he had faced his fear and survived.

As he walked off the stage, Snoopy greeted him with a celebratory dance, and Linus gave him a thumbs-up. For once, Charlie Brown didn’t feel like a failure. He had overcome his panic, and that was worth more than pulling off the perfect magic trick.

As they left the auditorium, Charlie felt a lightness in his step he hadn’t felt in a long time. He realised that maybe, just maybe, he could face whatever challenges life threw at him, panic attacks and all.

And with Snoopy by his side, maybe he wouldn’t be so alone after all.

The Uncontrollable Machine: Charlie Brown’s Panic Attack

In the story, we see his body react as if it’s a machine running on autopilot, spiralling out of control as the stress builds up before the school talent show. This is not just his usual anxiety; it is something more intense — an automatic, mechanical response that he can’t stop, as if his body is malfunctioning.

During my university training, we were asked to voluntarily hyperventilate — rapidly breathe for a short time — to show how hyperventilation triggers a panic attack and help clients understand that the symptoms aren’t dangerous. However, what I took from this somewhat masochistic experiment was how panic operates like a machine on autopilot, driven by physiological reactions beyond our control. My contribution here is the idea that panic is largely mechanical, like a car malfunctioning. Just as a car breaks down due to a system error, the body reacts mechanically to stress, often beyond immediate contro

According to cognitive and behavioural models of panic, a key factor in panic attacks is hyperventilation (HV) , where rapid breathing causes a drop in carbon dioxide levels (hypocapnia). This leads to symptoms like dizziness, shortness of breath, and a racing heart, which are then catastrophised — misinterpreted as signs of something far more serious. For example, someone might feel dizzy and immediately think, “I’m going to faint,” or “Something is terribly wrong with me.” This panic about physical sensations fuels a negative feedback loop, where anxiety makes the physical symptoms worse, and the worsening symptoms increase anxiety, eventually leading to a full-blown panic attack.

In Charlie Brown’s case, as his heart began to race and his hands trembled, his thoughts spiralled into worry: “What if I mess up? What if I embarrass myself?” These catastrophic thoughts only made his symptoms worse. His body reacted more intensely to these thoughts, just like a machine reacting to an input signal, creating a vicious cycle of panic.

During our training, this was illustrated when we voluntarily hyperventilated. Our instructors asked us to breathe rapidly for a couple of minutes. Within seconds, many of us experienced the common symptoms of panic — dizziness, shortness of breath, and a feeling of being lightheaded. These physical sensations mirrored what happens during a real panic attack, proving that panic is often mechanical. Our bodies react automatically to changes like rapid breathing, and our minds then misinterpret these bodily responses, leading to fear.

This ties directly into cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), which often uses HV intentionally in therapy to expose clients to the sensations they fear. However, I personally don’t believe in this practice (interoceptive exposure). Inducing panic-like symptoms intentionally might reinforce distress rather than alleviate it, as it can feel too harsh or overwhelming for some clients. I prefer approaches that focus on helping clients manage their anxiety in a gentler, more controlled way, rather than forcing them to confront it head-on through such intense methods.

Breathing, unlike other automatic anxiety responses, can be consciously controlled, allowing people to break the cycle of panic.

Here’s the link to a video I made four years ago.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsiLroGTLxk

For Charlie Brown, if he had been able to understand that his symptoms — trembling hands, shortness of breath, and dizziness — were simply automatic reactions to stress, he might have been able to stop the feedback loop of panic before it spiralled out of control. Just like in our training exercise, his body was reacting automatically, and with practice, he could have learned to manage those reactions consciously.

Physical Symptoms

• Trembling and Sweating: Charlie’s hands trembled uncontrollably, and his palms were slick with sweat. His nervousness physically manifested through the shaking, a common sign of anxiety where the body responds to fear. As he prepared for the performance, this trembling worsened, showing how fear builds and intensifies these symptoms. It’s as though his body was stuck on autopilot, reacting in a way Charlie couldn’t control.
• Shortness of Breath: As his thoughts spiralled, Charlie struggled to breathe, describing it as if the air had been “sucked out of the room.” This shortness of breath was a key indicator of his panic attack, making him feel as if he were losing control over his body. This sensation created a feedback loop — the more he felt he couldn’t breathe, the more panicked he became, just like a machine malfunctioning.
• Heart Racing: As his panic escalated, Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, thudding furiously, as though his body was in a state of emergency. His fear of failing in front of the school fuelled this sensation. The more he worried about what might go wrong, the faster his heart beat, like an engine in overdrive, unable to slow down under the pressure. His body reacted to the stress much like a machine overheating when it can’t handle the load.

Psychological Symptoms

• Racing Thoughts: The most obvious sign of Charlie’s panic is in his racing thoughts. Before stepping on stage, he wonders, What if I forget the trick? What if the cards fall? What if I make a fool of myself in front of the whole school? These anxious thoughts fuel his physical reactions, making his symptoms worse. His mind is stuck in a catastrophic loop, where every possible failure is blown out of proportion in his head. This mental spiral makes his body respond as if he’s in real danger, further heightening the sense of panic.
• Feelings of Dread: Charlie Brown’s long-standing fear of failure only intensifies during this moment. His usual worries, like messing up in front of others or being laughed at, are amplified, creating a crushing feeling of dread. This dread fuels his panic attack, as his mind convinces him that embarrassment is certain, no matter what he does. For Charlie, this feeling is like an engine running on full power with no brakes to stop it.
• Helplessness: As his thoughts spin out of control, Charlie whispers to himself, “I’m having a panic attack.” His realisation of what’s happening only heightens his sense of helplessness. At that moment, he feels powerless, as though the machine of his body and mind has taken over and he no longer has control. His attempts to calm down feel futile, reinforcing the panic that’s already gripping him.

Triggers for Charlie Brown’s Panic Attack

The story highlights specific triggers that pushed Charlie into this panic attack. These are moments and situations familiar to him, but in the context of the talent show, they escalate his anxiety to an uncontrollable level.

• Fear of Failure: One of Charlie’s biggest triggers is his fear of failure. His mind constantly replays scenarios where things go wrong. The thought of messing up his magic trick in front of the whole school becomes too much to bear. His usual concerns about not being good enough turn into full-blown panic. It’s a fear he’s lived with during past failures, like his many attempts to kick the football, and now it’s at the forefront, causing his body to respond as if he’s in real danger.
• Social Pressure: Charlie is no stranger to feeling nervous in social situations. The talent show represents a high-pressure environment, where he fears public embarrassment. In his mind, the idea of being laughed at or judged by his classmates triggers intense anxiety. The thought of performing in front of an audience, with all eyes on him, makes his body react as if it’s a life-or-death situation. This social pressure is a familiar trigger for Charlie, but in this case, it escalates into panic.

Charlie Brown’s Inner Dialogue During Panic

During his panic attack, Charlie’s internal dialogue reveals the depth of his fear and self-doubt. These thoughts keep running through his mind, feeding his anxiety:

• “What if I mess up? What if everyone laughs at me?”
• “Why can’t I calm down?”
• “I’ve done this trick before, but now I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

These thoughts create a cycle of anxiety, where his fear of failure fuels his panic attack, making it harder for him to find a way out. The more he questions himself, the more intense his physical symptoms become.

Why is the Machine Malfunctioning?

In moments like these, we are reminded that anxiety does not arise from a vacuum — it is often the cumulative result of unresolved emotional pain, stress, and a sense of disconnection.

For Charlie, this moment of panic is compounded by his long-standing fear of failure and not being “good enough.” In many ways, his experiences mirror those of people who, from an early age, internalise messages of inadequacy. When he steps onto the stage, Charlie is not just fighting the fear of embarrassment; he is confronting the deeper wounds of self-doubt and a yearning for acceptance. The power of this scene lies in how it highlights the human tendency to judge ourselves harshly, often amplifying our distress.

However, Charlie is not alone in this struggle. The support he receives from Linus and Snoopy is essential in helping him navigate his fear. Linus, with his simple and compassionate words — “You don’t have to be perfect, just try your best” — offers Charlie the emotional grounding he desperately needs. This is the power of human connection. In moments of panic, the presence of someone who sees and accepts us can shift the entire emotional landscape. For Charlie, this reminder of acceptance softens the impact of his fear and helps him realise that he does not need to carry the weight of perfection alone.

The Nature of Panic: A Response to Disconnection

In Charlie Brown’s case, panic reflects a heightened state of disconnection — from himself and from the present moment. The racing thoughts, trembling hands, and pounding heart are all signs that his body and mind are in a state of hyper-arousal, seeking to protect him from perceived danger. In reality, Charlie’s deeper fear is not the performance itself, but the internal belief that he will fail, be rejected, and is not good enough. This reflects a common dynamic in those who struggle with chronic anxiety — a pattern rooted in early experiences of feeling unseen or unsupported.

From a broader perspective, panic attacks are not merely physiological events; they are the body’s response to deep emotional distress. The body, in its wisdom, reacts to unresolved tension within — attempting to alert us to the pain that needs healing. For Charlie, this moment of panic is a reminder of the emotional burdens he has carried for so long. But it is also an opportunity — a moment where, through the support of others, he can begin to see that he is more than his fear, more than his panic.

Resilience Through Connection

Charlie Brown’s experience ultimately teaches us about resilience. While his body may feel out of control and his mind overwhelmed with fear, he still steps onto the stage. This act of courage — taking action in the face of fear — reminds us that resilience is not about the absence of anxiety, but about moving forward despite it. In Charlie’s case, his resilience is bolstered by the presence of Linus and Snoopy, who provide the emotional safety he needs to take that step.

This speaks to a deeper truth about healing: that we cannot face our fears alone. Whether it is a friend, a loved one, or even a compassionate therapist, human connection is a vital ingredient in our ability to confront the sources of our anxiety. It is through relationships — through being seen and accepted in our vulnerability — that we can begin to heal the wounds that underlie our panic.

Conclusion: Moving Beyond Fear

Charlie Brown’s panic attack serves as a powerful reminder of how deeply anxiety can affect us, turning our bodies into what feels like an uncontrollable machine in moments of intense fear. Yet, his journey also illustrates that panic is not the end — it is part of a larger process of self-understanding and growth. With the right support and a compassionate mindset, we can confront the fears that arise within us and realise that we are capable of much more than we think.

Ultimately, Charlie’s experience teaches us that healing and resilience do not come from eradicating fear, but from accepting it as part of the human experience. It is the act of trying — of stepping onto the stage, even when our hands are trembling and our hearts are pounding — that shows true courage. And with the help of others, we can navigate life’s overwhelming moments and find our way back to peace. As Mary Anne Radmacher wisely said, “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” True strength lies not only in bold gestures, but in the quiet determination to keep going, even when the path feels uncertain.

Photo by madison lavern on Unsplash

In today’s world, everything around us moves at an incredibly fast pace — technology, work, and the constant stream of information. Many of us are caught in this whirlwind, always rushing, always doing, and rarely stopping to simply be. We become so engrossed in the external world that we lose connection with our inner selves. This disconnection creates stress, anxiety, and a sense of restlessness because we are always trying to keep up with the world, instead of aligning with our own inner rhythm.

To live fully and consciously, it’s essential to be centred — centred in who we are, not just in what we do. When we are centred, we remain calm and stable, even in the midst of chaos. Being centred is not about avoiding the external world, but about knowing how to engage with it from a place of balance and inner peace. It allows us to respond to life, rather than react to it. This is where true strength and clarity come from.

With this understanding in mind, I sought to adapt Edwina Gateley’s prayer, “Let Your God Love You” into “Let Your True Nature Embrace You.”

Why this adaptation?

Edwina Gateley’s original poem gently invites us to pause, be still, and open ourselves to the love and compassion of God. It offers a deeply comforting message of being seen, understood, and loved by a divine presence — a feeling that can be incredibly soothing, especially when we’re feeling lost or overwhelmed. In a therapeutic setting, this message can be a powerful reminder that we are all worthy of love and compassion, even when we may not feel it ourselves.

However, I understand that for some, the idea of receiving love from an external God might not fully resonate. You may have had experiences that lead you to distrust external authority or feel disconnected from traditional religious beliefs. If that’s the case, you may need a more universal or internal approach to healing — one that speaks directly to your capacity for self-compassion and the idea that love and understanding can come from within.

This is why I adapted the poem.

Instead of looking outward to an external source of love, I want to help you recognise the boundless compassion and peace that already exist within you. My purpose is to help you cultivate self-compassion, to see your own intrinsic value and your deep connection to the universe.

Let Your True Nature Embrace You

Be silent.
Be still. Not passive, but fully awake.
Come home to yourself.
Empty.
Alive.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still. Not passive, but fully awake.
Come home to yourself.
That is all.
You are enough.
You are understood.
You are loved.
By the universe, by life, by yourself —
With boundless compassion.
All you need
Is to sit in that awareness,
Embraced by peace.
Quiet.
Still. Not passive, but fully awake.
Just be.
Let your true nature —
Embrace you.

One of the most beautiful aspects of Edwina Gateley’s original poem is its spaciousness; it feels almost minimalist. I love her simplicity. In some of the verses, I was able to preserve this minimalism, for example by adding “alive” or maintaining her concise style without losing the depth of her lines, such as “Say nothing. Ask nothing.” But in other situations, this simplicity didn’t come to me as easily. For instance, in the verse “Be still. Not passive, but fully awake,” the intention is to convey that stillness is not about inactivity or disengagement. It’s not about drifting off or numbing the mind. Instead, true stillness is a dynamic state of awareness — a form of active presence where the mind remains alert, yet calm.

It’s a paradox in a way — though you’re outwardly still, inwardly there is a profound aliveness, a conscious attentiveness that keeps you deeply connected to the present.

When you are truly still, you are deeply engaged with life, experiencing it fully, without letting the noise of your thoughts or emotions cloud your perception. It’s in this stillness that you find clarity and connect with the deeper layers of your being.

Another change I brought to the poem was the line “Come home to yourself.” This phrase is a common concept in various spiritual and meditative traditions, reflecting the universal idea of returning to one’s true nature. For instance, Jiddu Krishnamurti often spoke about self-awareness and the need to move beyond external conditioning to discover one’s inner truth. He once said, “The moment you start to look inward, you are coming home.” This highlights the importance of turning inward to find clarity and authenticity in a world full of distractions.

Similarly, Ramana Maharshi taught that self-realisation comes from turning within and recognising the self, which transcends the ego. He emphasised the inward journey as the highest form of service, as reflected in his statement: “Your own Self-realisation is the greatest service you can render the world.” Through his method of self-inquiry, he guided individuals to explore the deeper layers of their being, showing that true peace and purpose come from within.

Rumi, the beloved Persian poet, also expressed a similar idea, encouraging people to seek love within, rather than in the external world. His wisdom shines through in the line, “You wander from room to room, hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck.” This beautifully illustrates the idea that everything we search for externally — love, joy, and fulfilment — is already within us, waiting to be recognised.

And although Socrates was not a meditator in the traditional sense, the ancient Greek philosopher placed great emphasis on knowing thyself, a concept that aligns closely with the idea of coming home to one’s true self. His famous quote, “The unexamined life is not worth living,” reflects the importance of self-reflection and understanding as the foundation of a meaningful life.

As you can see, the concept of coming home to oneself has been shared and reinterpreted by many spiritual and philosophical figures throughout history, each in their unique way. In this practice, I felt it was essential to include this notion in the poem. It’s undeniable — encouraging the inward journey to self-awareness and peace is central to so many paths of personal growth and healing.

Instructions and advice about the practice

Receiving the Practice

There’s no need to force anything in this process. Simply sit, close your eyes, and let your body and mind be receptive. Contemplation isn’t something you have to actively “do” or achieve. Instead, it’s about letting go. It’s about allowing the deeper parts of yourself to open up and receive what is already present: the peace, the stillness, the experience of coming home to yourself.

In time, if you continue this practice, you will notice that the changes you once sought begin to emerge naturally. Your mind will be calmer. Your reactions will be less driven by immediate emotion. Your understanding of life, yourself, and others will deepen. All of this comes not from straining or effort, but from the simple act of being present, of repeating the practice, of opening yourself to stillness again and again

The Role of Time

The way time unfolds in contemplation is different from our usual experience of it. In our busy lives, a minute can feel like a fleeting moment — barely enough to be noticed. But in contemplation, even a single minute can hold profound depth. One minute of stillness, with no thoughts to distract, no worries to pull you away, can feel expansive. It becomes an eternity unto itself, a moment where you connect with a deeper sense of being — something far beyond the everyday.

In this practice, time is flexible. You may choose to contemplate one sentence for 20 seconds, for a full minute, or even longer, allowing space to exist between the words. There is no rush. Each pause, each silence, can deepen your experience of the moment, opening up new layers of clarity.

If you prefer to be guided by a voice rather than reading the poem, simply close your eyes, relax your body, and allow your mind to receive. In that case, you can listen to my audio recording — please find the link below on YouTube.

Access my YouTube video here

A Partner in Contemplation

If you are fortunate enough to have a partner to read these words to you, forget my recording and allow their voice to be a gentle guide into that space of stillness. This is not a task to be hurried through. In fact, I think it’s a beautiful activity to do together. The shared act of contemplation creates a unique connection, allowing both of you to experience a sense of calm and presence as you move through the words.

A Final Thought

If all you have is one minute, then let that minute be enough. Close your eyes, breathe deeply, and allow your mind to settle. In that one minute, let go of any thoughts that arise, and simply be. The power of contemplation doesn’t come only from the length of time but also from the quality of your presence in that time. Whether you sit for one minute or for an hour, it is the repeated act of returning to stillness, over and over again, that will create profound change in your life.

Contemplation is like planting a seed. With each repetition, with each moment of stillness, that seed is watered. Over time, with consistent care, it will grow into something beautiful.

The notifications were particularly unsettling. They seemed emotionally manipulative, especially when they focused on maintaining my streak.

Sometimes I’d receive messages like, “These reminders don’t seem to be working. We’ll stop sending them for now.”

This tactic made me feel guilty for not practising. It wasn’t about genuine motivation anymore, but about avoiding that uncomfortable feeling of letting myself — and apparently the app — down.

This experience reminded me of classical conditioning, like Pavlov’s dog and Skinner’s rats. Duolingo used similar techniques. Just as Pavlov’s dogs linked the sound of a bell to getting food, I started to link finishing my lessons with the reward of keeping my streak. It became less about the joy of learning and more about holding onto that streak

Duolingo also uses negative reinforcement, a concept deeply explored by B.F. Skinner in his work on operant conditioning. Negative reinforcement involves removing an unpleasant consequence to strengthen a behaviour. In this case, the fear of losing my progress — the potential loss of my streak — acted as that unpleasant consequence. To address this, Duolingo introduced “Streak Freezes,” which allowed me to avoid losing my streak even if I missed a day. This feature only reinforced the habit further, as it reduced the anxiety of failure without changing the underlying motivation. I wasn’t learning because I enjoyed it anymore; I was driven by the need to protect what I had built, avoiding the negative feeling of loss

In reflecting on my experience, I am sure that B.F. Skinner and Daniel Kahneman, the author of Thinking, Fast and Slow, would agree that other psychological mechanisms were at play, such as variable rewards and loss aversion, which kept me hooked.

Variable rewards is a concept Skinner would most likely discuss. He explored how unpredictable rewards can create powerful behavioural conditioning. In his experiments with rats and pigeons, Skinner showed that behaviours reinforced by unpredictable rewards tend to be more persistent than those with consistent rewards. This is because the unpredictability makes the reward feel more exciting and worth pursuing. In Duolingo, this is reflected through surprise rewards like extra points or bonus exercises, keeping users hooked by making the experience feel fresh and engaging.

Loss aversion, on the other hand, is tied to the work of Daniel Kahneman, a Nobel Prize-winning psychologist. Along with Amos Tversky, Kahneman explored how people are more motivated to avoid losses than to seek equivalent gains. This idea is a core principle of behavioural economics, and it explains why I was so driven to protect my streak on Duolingo. The fear of losing something I had built up, even if it wasn’t tangible, was stronger than the desire to keep learning for the joy of it.

Loss aversion is also strengthened by another tactic: urgency. We don’t want to miss out or regret not taking action, so we rush to complete the task. This strategy, called scarcity, taps into our fear of missing out and motivates us to act quickly, even if it’s something we weren’t originally excited to do. This is often used in marketing and apps to keep us engaged

                                                                                                                                                    or

But you have a good friend, they are likely to respond with understanding and empathy when you need to cancel a meeting for a lesson. They won’t make you feel guilty or pressured to reschedule right away. Instead, they’ll give you space to take care of yourself and offer flexibility for when things calm down. Do you notice any difference compared to Duo?

The app’s social features, like leaderboards, added a competitive element, pushing me to stay engaged, not for my own improvement, but to stay ahead of others.

Personifying the app was the most emotionally manipulative tactic. Messages like “Duo is sad you missed a day” tugged at my emotions, as if I was letting down a friend instead of missing a day of language practice.

Reflecting on all of this, I began to wonder if this was really the best way to learn. In France, I had the chance to practise in real-world settings, to talk with people, listen to the local radio, and read newspapers. Those interactions, though imperfect, felt far more meaningful than ticking off another day on the app. Language is, after all, about communication — about connecting with other human beings, not just reaching milestones on a screen.

Yeah, you could argue, “Mate, you don’t live in France, and you’ll eventually return to England,” or “We don’t know any French people where we live, or the language we’re learning, and we can’t afford private tuition.” Touché! It’s free, I get that. But I believe there are alternative ways to learn that don’t rely on streaks, competition, or guilt, and that encourage human connection — and are fun.

Ultimately, learning should be about joy, curiosity, and personal growth, not about streaks or rankings. As Albert Einstein once said, “Education is not the learning of facts, but the training of the mind to think.” Let’s not forget why we start learning in the first place — to grow, explore, and expand our horizons, not to tick off a box each day. In the end, isn’t it about connecting and communicating with others? Sharing experiences and gaining a deeper understanding of the world?

Bien sûr, you might proudly say, “With each day, I add to my streak — I feel more accomplished.” But have you ever wondered what part of you it takes away? Your streak adds structure, but does it also take away the joy and purpose from your learning?

© Charles M. Schulz. Characters from Peanuts, including Charlie Brown, are the intellectual property of Peanuts Worldwide LLC

Once again, Charlie Brown was awake at night, his mind spinning with endless thoughts. He often found himself trapped in a cycle of overthinking, analysing every little decision until he felt paralysed by doubt. That night, a familiar question nagged at him: “How do I think, feel, and decide?”

The next morning, still feeling overwhelmed, he wandered over to Lucy’s psychiatric booth, hoping she might have some answers.

Lucy, ever confident, leaned forward. “It’s simple, Charlie Brown. Your brain works like a machine. You get a thought, and it’s like pressing a button. Just like turning on the TV. You pick a channel, and boom, it plays. You think, you decide, end of story, 5 cents please!”

Charlie Brown frowned, uncertain. “But what about when I feel happy and then something bad happens? I think I’m afraid to be happy because whenever I get too happy, something bad always happens,” he said, reflecting on how even his happiest moments seemed fleeting, always overshadowed by an expectation of disappointment.

Just then, Linus appeared, carrying a book tightly under his arm. He had been reading about the brain and was eager to share what he’d learned. “Actually, Charlie Brown, there’s more to it than that. Your brain is more mysterious than just a machine or a TV.”

Charlie Brown looked up, curious. “Really? Tell me more, Linus.”

Well,” Linus began, “there are two different ways people think about how the brain works. Some people believe it works like a giant puzzle or computer. That’s what a really smart guy named John Hopfield thought. Apparently, he won something called the Nobel Prize. I’m not totally sure what a Nobel Prize is, but it sounds important! He said the brain is full of tiny puzzle pieces called neurons that talk to each other. These neurons send messages and connect in just the right way to help you solve problems, remember things, and make decisions. It’s like your brain is the world’s greatest puzzle solver.

“Wow!” Charlie Brown said after Linus explained his view. “So my brain is like a super puzzle?”

“Exactly,” Linus added calmly.

“But if that’s true,” Charlie Brown continued, “why do I always feel like I’m missing a piece? Why do I feel happy one moment and worried the next?”

Linus replied, “Sometimes the pieces don’t seem to fit perfectly, especially when we overthink. But John Hopfield’s idea is that, even when you feel like something’s wrong, your brain is still trying to solve the puzzle, even if it doesn’t feel that way.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Of course. It’s like a machine. I told you, Charlie Brown.”

But then Linus added, “But that’s not the whole story. There’s another idea too. Another smart man named Roger Penrose has a different way of thinking about it. I read he won a Nobel Prize as well, so he must be pretty important too. He thinks the brain is much more magical, something no computer or machine could ever copy. He believes that tiny things in our brain called quantum particles are doing something mysterious — something even scientists don’t fully understand yet.

Charlie Brown blinked. “Quantum what?”

Linus explained, “These tiny particles behave in strange ways that no regular machine could ever do. Penrose believes that these particles are like stars twinkling in the night, creating thoughts and feelings in a way that’s more like magic than puzzles. This is why our thoughts and consciousness are so unique.”

“So,” Charlie Brown said, scratching his head, “My brain is a puzzle and magic at the same time?”

“Sort of,” Linus smiled. “John Hopfield would say your brain solves problems like a puzzle, connecting neurons together to help you think. But Roger Penrose would say that something deeper, more mysterious, is happening inside your brain — something we don’t fully understand yet, like quantum magic.”

Charlie Brown sighed, still thinking about his earlier worry. “I don’t know, Linus. Maybe when I overthink and get stuck, it’s because my brain is trying to figure out something more complicated than I realise. But… I still can’t shake the feeling that when I get happy, something bad is just waiting around the corner.”

Lucy crossed her arms. “It sounds like you expect a lot for 5 cents, Charlie Brown”

“Good grief!” Charlie Brown exclaimed. “It’s giving me a headache… How can two guys win the Nobel Prize for saying completely opposite things about the brain? Meanwhile, Snoopy’s over there dancing and having fun.

Linus chuckled. “Well, Charlie Brown, maybe Snoopy’s figured out the secret of consciousness, and we’re all still trying to catch up.”

A puzzled Charlie Brown asked Linus, “What do you mean?”

Linus replied, “It’s great to explore the mystery of the brain, but Snoopy has this intuitive way of being that goes beyond all those explanations. He recognises the brain’s ability to feel joy, simplicity, and be fully present. Snoopy shows us how to live fully, to dance, enjoy moments without overthinking, and approach life with a light heart.

Charlie Brown looked over again at Snoopy, who was dancing carefree, full of joy. Shaking his head, half-amused and half-confused, he muttered, “Maybe he has, Linus. Maybe he has”.