Read Time: 7 to 9 minutes (Breathe slow, full, deep, breaths through the nose and practice focusing.)
More than half of the journal entries I write in Google Docs come from me trying to explain something that might help someone specific. I usually have someone in mind—someone I care about, who’s struggling, or seeking, or just asking questions.
So let me start here: I don’t know you that well. I can’t pretend to understand your entire psychology. What I can do is draw from my own life and offer you parallels. If any of what I’ve lived resonates with what you’re going through, then maybe—just maybe—some of my solutions will be useful to you.
First, let’s be honest: there is no permanent escape from difficulty. Life moves like a roller coaster, turns into a turbulent airplane ride, then transforms into a fishing boat on stormy seas. And then, without warning, the weather clears. For a moment, we’re floating in calm waters, under warm sun, with real joy and connection. Then, expect turbulence again. We must be prepared.
That’s life.
It’s clear your nervous system has been running hot—and crashing hard. There are good reasons:
- People you love are struggling.
- You’re dealing with real financial uncertainty.
- Unresolved childhood issues are pressing up against your current reality.
- You’ve gone too long without consistent daily re-centering.
- Your body chemistry is shifting with the stage of life you’re in.
- Long-standing habits of reactivity have gone unchecked.
Now it’s time to be accountable—to your mental health, your chronic anxiety, and your ability to stay present and supportive for your family.
Start with something simple: daily breathing exercises. Even if they don’t feel effective right away, show up anyway. Three to five minutes. Every day. That small act of showing up will restore your sanity over time.
Your skepticism is just the mind doing what it does. No problem.
What matters is that you keep showing up.
Willingness is the starting point.
Everything else will follow.
By the time we reach our 40s, many of us have just begun to create the conditions that allow us to tap into something deeper: free will. Until then, if we’re caught in chronic anxiety—which many of us are—we don’t have much free will at all. Most of our reactions come from the subconscious. When we’re anxious, even a little, different parts of the brain light up. The primitive brain takes over. It’s not bad—it’s just trying to protect us. But it hijacks our clarity. It runs old programs.
Understanding this isn’t just academic—it’s the foundation of what I call mental hygiene. And if any of this is going to help, we need to begin with one sacred commitment:
We must meditate every day. No matter what.
It doesn’t require a lot. Just consistency. If we show up, the miracle begins. If we show up only a little, the miracle unfolds slowly. If we show up often and with sincerity, the shift might come faster. But fast or slow doesn’t matter. What matters is that it comes. And when it does, even in small doses, we begin to experience something we may have forgotten: relaxation.
Not perfection. Not peace forever. But a moment of grounded stillness.
And we remember the tool we’ve always had access to: our breath.
The Quiet Return to Ourselves
Our breath is our direct line to our thoughts, our emotions, our chemistry. Breath control is thought control. The breath gives us an anchor. When we breathe consciously, we increase oxygenation, slow the heart rate, and activate the parts of the brain we want to be in—the prefrontal cortex. This is the seat of reasoning, patience, focus, and empathy.
What we’re stepping out of, in those moments, is the survival brain—the emotional reactivity of the limbic system. That brain is useful when we’re being chased by a lion or building a shelter in the pouring rain. But most of the time, we’re not in danger. And yet we remain stuck in that survival mode—anxious, reactive, overstimulated.
The Breath is How we Down-Regulate That System.
By focusing on the breath, we become aware of thought. And with awareness, we have a chance to respond differently. Not by fighting thoughts, but by gently returning—again and again—to the breath. This is the practice.
And at first, it’s a mess. That’s normal.
It’s like watching a young superhero trying to fire a laser beam from their eyes. The first ten attempts are chaotic—out of control, misfired, destructive. That’s us, trying to meditate with a cluttered mind.
But just like a muscle, our awareness strengthens with practice. The first time we do a bicep curl, it’s awkward. We shake. It burns. But if we rest when needed, and keep showing up, the muscles grow. And as our physical strength grows, so does our technique. We waste less energy on distraction. We refine our movement.
The same thing happens in breath practice.
At first, it’s just the breath.
Then, breath and movement.
Then, breath, movement, and focus.
Eventually, we throw in a third ball: the bandhas.
Advancing
We begin to explore physical locks in the body—not as mystical gestures, but as subtle contractions that provide strength and support. The first is the mula bandha, a gentle lift of the pelvic floor. The second is uddiyana bandha, a drawing in just below the navel that protects the lower back and stabilizes movement. These aren't forced or rigid—they're steady, intelligent contractions held in sync with the breath.
As we keep practicing, something beautiful happens:
Our timing improves. Our coordination refines. Our consciousness expands.
And with that expansion come the unexpected gifts: patience, compassion, clarity, and presence. These qualities begin to rise in us not because we read about them—but because we lived into them.
That’s when we realize this isn’t just physical or mental training. It’s sacred work.
And it’s ancient.
People have searched for peace since the beginning of civilization. They wandered. They suffered. Many never found it. They couldn’t make the connection between their trauma, their chemistry, their childhood conditioning, and their daily habits.
But you are making that connection. Today, in your next 3 minute meditation. You are paving the way to your own peace.
You’ve already come further than most. If you’re trying to sit still, if you’re beginning to breathe and observe yourself, you’ve reached a powerful threshold. You’re standing at the mouth of a river that’s moving fast. You can’t charge through it. You must slow down. Dissolve the fear. Move with intention. That’s how you cross.
Helping Others Around You
This practice—what you’re doing now—is more important than you realize. It’s not just about your own liberation from suffering. It’s about how your inner shift will ripple outward. When we discover something that works, we share it—not by preaching, but by offering it freely, gently, in service.
Not to be a savior. Not to become a prophet. But simply because someone else might be ready to listen.
That’s the nature of real service. And as we relax more deeply into this work, we begin to feel the presence of something greater—what some might call super-consciousness.
It’s always been there. The breath is what makes it accessible.
Over time, these teachings will stop sounding like ideas and start sounding like your own inner voice. But in the beginning, you have to revisit them. You have to practice. You have to write out the qualities of character you want to build, the habits you want to refine. We're all doing this work together.
And remember: the path we walk is not the monk’s path.
We’re not cloistered away with no distractions. We live in the world. We carry stress. We raise families. We build businesses. We’ve got karma to burn. So our practice won’t look like theirs. But the destination is the same.
No judgment if we don’t make it all the way. But we try.
That matters. That shifts things—for us, and for the world.