Sunday's Pause

This Sunday felt like a quiet reckoning with my own body. For days, I carried an intense discomfort on the right side of my neck — a heaviness that words couldn’t quite explain. I chose to listen inward and attended a somatic breathwork session in the heart of the jungle.

As an asian, unlearning the stiffness we’ve been conditioned to hold in our bodies felt unfamiliar. The idea of moving, moaning, or even crying without restraint was unsettling at first. But as my breath deepened, my body took over. Tingling, numbness, and tears surfaced. Movements came without thought — sweeping hands, a gentle cat-cow, and an intuitive unwinding. My hands instinctively circled my chest, as if guided by something ancient within me. With each release, the tightness lifted, and by the end, the pain in my neck had quietly disappeared. I left the jungle shala lighter, not just in body but in spirit — reminded once again that healing is a language our bodies already know, if only we choose to listen.

Today, as I sat in 90 minutes of meditation and chanting, I touched a space within myself that felt vast, silent, and infinite. For the first time, the constant hum of thoughts softened, and in its place arose a gentle, expansive nothingness — not empty, but deeply peaceful. In that stillness, I wasn’t my name, my story, or my emotions. I simply existed, suspended in quiet awareness. It felt as though time dissolved, and I was held by something formless yet comforting. This experience reminded me that beneath all the noise and doing, there is a natural stillness always available — a home I can return to.