The Elusive Quiet Mind

What I’ve learned about working with my mind instead of fighting it

This morning in the shower I noticed that my mind was actually quiet.

I was simply enjoying my shower. I guess you would call this being in the moment. But being in the moment sometimes feels like your mind is nowhere, and for a person with a very active mind, it is a lovely feeling. It is often fleeting.

The interesting thing about those moments is that the second I notice them, they’re already over. Because awareness itself breaks the spell, and then my brain starts looking for something to fill that space.

Here’s an old worry you can think about. Here’s a memory you didn’t ask for. Here’s something you can worry about that hasn’t happened yet.

There’s a split second in there, right before it pulls me in, where I get to choose. It’s something I’ve practiced for some time now and it’s getting easier each time. Less fighting my own mind. and more naturally shifting my thoughts to where I want them to go.

I said out loud in the shower today, “Thanks, but not today.” Let’s think about the dahlias instead. Where are you going to plant them? Which companion plants could be a good pairing in the garden?

That split second sets the tone of how my next few minutes unfold.

For a long time I wanted to flip a switch. If only I could just turn my mind off. It sounded so peaceful in theory. It’s also an all or nothing mentality….and that’s something I’ve struggled with in the past. I still like to think it’s this or that, black or white. But I know there is a beautiful middle ground I need to find.

That’s not how my mind works though. And I’ve come to believe it’s not how most deeply feeling minds work.

My mind doesn’t rest in silence. It rests when it has something real to focus on.

When there’s nothing to hold it, it goes looking. And it is remarkably good at finding things I didn’t ask to resurface. Old conversations. What-ifs. Imagined futures. Regrets I’ve already walked through more times than I care to recall.

For a long time my attention lived almost exclusively in those darker corners. Not because something was wrong with me. But because my mind had carved a familiar groove there. That’s where it knew how to go. That’s where it found a strange kind of safety when everything else felt unplugged.

I used to think that meant I was broken.

Now I understand it differently. My mind isn’t broken. It’s just wired in a way that needs a different kind of care.

I think of thoughts like notifications on a switchboard , and did you know my first ever real job was as a receptionist at a commercial real estate company? The mind isn’t mechanical, but my mind likes to think in systems. That image anchors the reminder that I don’t have to answer every call all at once.

Some thoughts show up and I know immediately….this one needs me to sit with it. There’s something underneath it worth exploring. An old belief asking to be seen. A feeling that hasn’t been fully felt yet. Those I flag. I come back to them when I have the space to write it out in my journal, have a conversation, or find a quiet moment later in the day where I can give it my full attention.

Some thoughts show up and I know just as immediately…this one is noise. An old loop running on autopilot. Something my brain learned to reach for a long time ago that doesn’t serve me anymore. Like an email subscription I keep meaning to cancel. I don’t have to engage with it just because it arrived.

And some thoughts show up that are genuinely useful. Something I’m working through. A creative idea. A feeling of gratitude for something right in front of me. Those I follow.

The practice isn’t about avoiding the hard thoughts. It’s about recognizing that not every thought requires a full excavation right now. Timing matters. Safety matters. If something heavy surfaces at dinner with friends, I don’t have to let it take over the table. I can acknowledge it (I see you, I’ll come back to you) and return to it later when I’m ready.

I don’t avoid the thoughts. I have the wisdom to handle them in a way that works for me.

What shifted everything for me was understanding that I don’t calm my mind by trying to stop it.

I calm it by giving it something meaningful to engage with.

When I’m absorbed in something I care about (writing, cooking, being outside with my hands in the garden) the noise slips away without any effort. Nothing needs to be forced. My attention is finally occupied with something real and enjoyable.

My mind doesn’t need to be shut down. It needs direction.

Some people relax by doing nothing. Some of us relax by doing what brings us into focus, even if it looks like effort to someone else. Once I stopped fighting that and started following what actually works for me, everything felt more peaceful.

Not because my mind changed. But because my relationship with it did.

So back to the shower this morning.

The quiet arrived on its own. I noticed it. The brain started reaching. And in that split second before the old groove pulled me back in, I made a choice.

Not today. Let’s think about flowers.

Small. Unglamorous. Completely effective.

That’s the practice. It’s not a dramatic overhaul of how your mind works. It’s a small, consistent choice made again and again. You decide which notifications you open now, which ones wait for later, and which ones you let pass.

Your mind isn’t trying to work against you. It loves the familiar. You get to give it a new direction now.

Give it something worth following.

All love,

Sue

White Dinner Plate Dahlia