“The world isn’t going to get quieter. At some point, we have to stop giving every damn thing a microphone.”
I’ve been thinking A LOT about noise lately. Not just the literal kind, although my dog would like to file a formal complaint against the garbage truck that picks up trash from the apartment complex outside my office window 5 times a week! Apparently, it’s a terrifying mechanical beast with questionable intentions, and no amount of reassurance from me has convinced her otherwise.
I’m talking about the other kind of noise. Other people’s opinions, advice, expectations, notifications, news, and general chatter about what we should be doing with our lives.
It appears that everybody has something to say. Everybody has an answer. Everybody seems to know the secret to success, happiness, relationships, financial freedom, and achieving inner peace before breakfast. And if you spend enough time listening to all of them, you’ll eventually convince yourself you’re doing absolutely everything wrong and nothing right.
It’s exhausting. I’m so exhausted!
There seems to be something we always should be improving. Our business, body, relationships, morning routine. I guess drinking coffee and staring out the window isn’t enough anymore. We are told we should be optimizing that time, listening to a podcast, setting intentions, and probably learning Spanish while we are at it.
At what point did simply existing become so much work?
9 days ago, I started a 10-minute guided meditation practice in the morning. It was a start of a new month and I’ve been meaning to start for a long time. Nine consecutive days, which might not sound particularly impressive to someone who’s been doing it for twenty years, but for me, it’s something. I’m proud of it. I’m also slightly amused that I’ve reached a point in life where sitting still and doing absolutely nothing for a few minutes feels like a personal achievement.
And here’s what I’m discovering, my brain is noisy even when the world isn’t.
I sit down, close my eyes, and within approximately eleven seconds, my mind has revisited three conversations, invented two potential disasters, reminded me about an email I haven’t answered, and started planning dinner.
So much for enlightenment. But I keep showing up. I’m doing it because I’m beginning to realize how much of my energy goes toward things that haven’t happened, things I can’t control, and things that probably don’t deserve nearly as much attention as I give them.
And maybe that’s why I’ve been missing the ocean so much. I haven’t seen it since December, almost a year. For someone who feels most herself near the water, that’s a long damn time.
There’s something about the ocean that has always put things into perspective for me. Maybe it’s the sound of the waves drowning out everything else. Maybe it’s the horizon that reminds me the world is considerably bigger than whatever happens to be consuming my thoughts that day. Or maybe it’s just the fact that nobody expects you to accomplish anything while you’re sitting on a beach.
The ocean doesn’t care about your productivity. It doesn’t ask about your five-year plan. It doesn’t suggest you turn your passion into a side hustle. It just does its thing. I miss that.
Life has a funny way of convincing us that everything is urgent. Every decision feels monumental. Every unanswered question demands an immediate solution. And the more uncertain things become, the louder our brains get, as though thinking about something obsessively will somehow make the answer appear.
It rarely does.
I’m not going to wrap this up with some profound declaration about finding inner peace, because I haven’t found it. I still worry about things. I still overthink. I still occasionally wish the entire world would shut up for five minutes.
But I did meditate nine days in a row. I can still laugh at my dog’s ridiculous feud with the trash truck. And somewhere out there, the ocean is doing exactly what it’s always done, whether I’m standing in front of it or not.
I find something comforting in that. Maybe the good thing this week isn’t that everything is falling into place but realizing that everything doesn’t have to fall into place for us to find a little good in the middle of it.
And maybe peace isn’t about eliminating all the noise. Maybe it’s learning which parts of it are worth listening to.
Except the trash truck. According to my dog, that thing is absolutely not to be trusted.
Remember, YOU GOT THIS!
ONE ON ONE COACHING – Good Things Are Gonna Come
Buy Jasmine’s book HERE
