š The Practice of Coming Back to Yourself
I love silence.
Which surprises people.
Because Iām a warrior.
Because I lead.
Because I show up in rooms where things are loud and urgent and necessary.
So people assume I must be loud too.
But Iām not.
Iām an introvert.
I love to sit in silence
to think
to daydream
to read
to let my mind wander without interruption.
Silence, for me, has never been empty.
It has always been full.
Full of ideas.
Full of reflection.
Full of truth that only shows up when everything else quiets down.
But there was a time when I stopped honoring that.
When my life became about being everywhere for everyone.
Every meeting.
Every call.
Every moment that needed a voice, I offered mine.
And slowly
without saying it out loud
I stopped making space for myself.
I told myself it was necessary.
That the work required it.
That people needed me.
And maybe they did.
But I needed me too.
I just wasnāt listening.
It wasnāt until my friend Clay Mason was murdered
that everything shifted.
Not in a clean, organized way.
But in a way that made it impossible to keep moving the same.
Grief has a way of interrupting you.
It doesnāt ask if youāre ready.
It doesnāt wait for your schedule to clear.
It forces you to stop.
And in that stopping
I realized how far I had drifted from myself.
I was exhausted.
Not just physically
but emotionally, spiritually.
I had been pouring into everyone else
while denying myself the space to recharge
to reflect
to heal.
Thatās when meditation became something different.
Not abstract.
Not optional.
Necessary.
Not as a performance
not as a trend
but as a return.
A return to silence.
A return to breath.
A return to myself.
And I had to learn it intentionally.
To sit still
even when my mind was racing.
To stay
even when it felt easier to reach for distraction.
To allow whatever was there
to just be
.Iāve been thinking about how many of us are living like I was.
Spread thin.
Overextended.
Constantly responding.
Giving our energy to everything and everyone
while quietly running on empty.
We call it responsibility.
We call it commitment.
We call it showing up.
But sometimes
itās also avoidance.
Avoiding the silence.
Avoiding the stillness.
Avoiding what might come up if we finally stop moving.
Because stillness can feel confronting.
It can surface grief.
It can reveal exhaustion.
It can show us where weāve been neglecting ourselves.
But it can also do something else.
It can restore you.
It can ground you.
It can give you clarity that movement never will.
Meditation isnāt about escaping your life.
Itās about being present enough to actually live it.
To notice your breath.
To notice your thoughts.
To notice where you are carrying more than you were meant to hold alone.
Iām still learning this.
Still practicing.
Still reminding myself that I donāt have to earn rest.
I donāt have to justify stillness.
I donāt have to wait until Iām burned out to pause.
So this week, Iām choosing one word
Quiet.
Not absent.
Not withdrawn.
Not disconnected.
Just quiet enough to hear myself again.
Quiet enough to feel what Iāve been pushing past.
Quiet enough to remember that I am allowed to take up space in my own life too.
šÆļø The Becoming Line
Silence is not where you disappear. It is where you return.
Sit with this over this week.
Not how much more you can give
but how much youāve been holding without pause.
Not what needs your attention next
but what in you has been waiting for it.
Not how to keep up
but how to come back.
And if everything has been asking something from you lately
this is a moment that doesnāt.
A moment to sit.
A moment to breathe.
A moment to be without expectation.
You donāt have to solve anything here.
You donāt have to prove anything here.
Just sit long enough
to remember
you are here too.
JOIN US FOR A PRIVATE MEDITATION
Meditation with YZ ā A Loved Somebodies Recharge š§š¾āāļø
šļø April 18th, 2026
ā° 10:00 AM
š Studio34 Chattanooga, TN
šµ $10 per person, supporting YZās teaching and creative practice
Led by YZ Bridges of YziN Meditation š
A slow, intentional meditation with gentle movement and steady breath
No experience needed. All bodies welcome
Part of our quarterly rhythm of gathering and exploration
A room designed for presence, not performance. All bodies are welcome.
Spots are limited to keep the space intentional.
If you feel called to be there, you can reserve your spot through the link above.
This resonated deeply.
Thereās a quiet kind of courage in choosing to come back to yourselfāespecially when the world rewards constant motion and noise. The way you describe silence not as emptiness, but as fullness, feels like a reminder many of us didnāt know we needed.
Grief has a way of stripping things down to whatās real. And in that raw space, the truth becomes harder to ignore: we canāt keep giving from a place that hasnāt been replenished.
I appreciate how you named the tension so honestly; that what we often call responsibility can sometimes be avoidance. That stillness can feel confrontingā¦ but also healing.
āSilence is where you return.ā That line stayed with me.
Thank you for this invitation to pause, to listen, and to remember that weāre allowed to exist in our own livesānot just show up for everyone else.