Painful thoughts used to arise when I was told to sit still and be quiet as a child. I was young and full of energy, and every silent moment felt like a lost chance to embrace life.

Then, as I got older and transitioned into adolescence and early adulthood, it turned into a capital “F” fear of being silent and still since the noise in my head became louder and more potent the moment I was motionless and quiet.

It would have been uplifting if my inner monologue had been lovely, joyous, and empowering. But they were nothing more than whispers of negativity, self-loathing, and condemnation.

Those sounds, thoughts, and banter were me. Even when I was sleeping, my mind would be racing all day and night. There were times when I felt like my head was going to blow up from all the noise, weight, and thought.

I had no idea I was thinking. I simply operated automatically. I would react and act, causing waves of emotions and feelings to build up and then churn into additional turbulence, fatigue, and weight.

I was unable to deal with people or life in an effective manner, thus everything became dysfunctional. My entire world was distorted, both internally and outside.

My life and the world around me were filled with anxiety, rage, and despair because I was a neurotic, paranoid, scared, and self-loathing person. Everything and everyone was against me, so life was a never-ending war.

I reached the point of complete fatigue. In order to have peace, quiet, and slumber, I eventually lost all sense of reason and overdosed on prescription codeine medications. I felt like I had lost the fight with life, and I was completely exhausted.

I denied someone else who was most likely seriously hurt and in need of the bed while I lay in the hospital, sliding in and out of consciousness. However, because I had left my head and body, I experienced a brief period of quiet and tranquility.

I stood in the solitude, staring at my tired body and still extremely heavy head. “If I can see and gaze at the ‘me’ laying on the bed, then I must not be ‘me,’ so who am I?” was the question that came to mind at that moment.

They would have accused me of hallucinations and taken me straight to the insane bin if I had mentioned this, of course.

Despite being forced to take medication, I somehow survived and fled to a distant location where I was untraceable. I had begun the journey, so it was unavoidable. That silence was genuine, and I had to find it again.

Despite being forced to take medication, I somehow survived and fled to a distant location where I was untraceable. I had begun the journey, so it was unavoidable. That silence was genuine, and I had to find it again.

What was the quiet and silence I saw? From that day on, I knew there was more. I rediscovered and nurtured that silence throughout the ensuing years, and it became my compass, my healer, and my anchor. This is what I discovered.

Nature’s core is silence.

Set aside time each day to engage with nature in some way. Take a barefoot stroll on the grass, go swimming in the water, see the sunset, pet a pet, or even pull weeds from the yard. You will feel quiet, unconditional, complete bliss and tranquility from the bottom of your heart if you immerse yourself in nature.

Time literally stops and my thoughts go silent whenever I am in the great outdoors. The lovely sounds of birds chirping, water trickling, winds howling, and the silence of nature in between are all that remain.

Feed and grow that silence.

Your silent core will be fed and nurtured by reading spiritual books or articles, listening to enlightened masters, doing yoga or qigong, dancing, moving your body, and listening to music that speaks to you.

The best way to cultivate inner silence is through meditation. However, meditation might be a little more difficult than nature, which is effortless silence. The brain may appear everything but calm or tranquil while you sit or lie there motionless and in silence.

My thinking used to become louder anytime there was drama in my life. My vitality was sapped, the emotions were more intense, and the thoughts were more domineering and overpowering. It felt as though my entire body’s energy was being sucked up by my thinking brain.

But by persevering and maintaining quiet meditation, or by feeding it with active meditation practices that grounded it, I was able to continue to foster and cultivate that quietness.

Trust the silence.

I always opted to remain in silence, no matter how small. The thoughts became fainter and softer, and the quiet and silence increased as I paid less attention to the thinking mind.

Just be conscious of your ideas rather than fighting them or being afraid of them. Do not cling to them; just let them be. You have a thinking brain and a feeling body. They are not you, yet they are a part of you.

You realize that you have the ability and freedom to decide which kinds of thoughts you want to disregard and dissipate, as well as which ones you want to engage and empower, when you are silent.

Stillness and silence accompanied each other. They were my best buddies together. I cherished my early mornings and evenings right before bed because, when I closed my eyes during meditation, I vanished into the calm, stillness, and tranquility that constitute my true self.

Silence and stillness are teachers.

My head felt lighter in solitude, and clarity came to me naturally. Unfathomable strength showed itself, enabling me to forgive people who had wronged me, let go of my traumatic past, let go of pent-up emotions, and discover my true self of unconditional love and compassion. I now speak with profound wisdom because of the healing.

Like me, you might occasionally be irresponsible and let this relationship with your silence slip. “No time, too hard, later, tomorrow, next week, after I finish this assignment, after I solve that issue,” could be your justification. I do not need that since my life is too good right now. Then, hey!

Unavoidably, there will be a large wave that takes you by surprise and throws you right back into the mouth of the dominating mind. The quiet can dwindle and vanish. Only humans do that.

Return to the voice in your heart and hold yourself in the compassionate space. That will return you to quiet and stillness. The voice in my heart is a silent one—it is a knowing without words.

It gets stronger the more I pay attention and follow. It exudes a sense of joy, knowledge, love, and strength. It works like magic, guiding me to places I am supposed to be, people I am supposed to meet, and things I am supposed to do.

Maintaining and sustaining your silence will become a delightful routine rather than a chore if you put in the necessary effort and commitment.

There will also be a time when nothing exists except stillness and silence. That quiet gives rise to everything else. And there is flow. Respect, unwavering love and harmony, and limitless potential are the outcomes.

What does this signify? You see the wider picture, transcend your constrained physical world, and now apply your knowledge and insight to bring your life’s mission to fruition.