Learning to Practice Quiet

This morning during my Quiet Time, something unexpected rose up within me.

I’d been sitting in silence for quite a while when I realized I’d fallen asleep sitting up. When I woke, I couldn’t get my quiet time back. I didn’t tell myself I had wasted part of it.

I sat there and let my mind wander.

Thoughts came and went. Lots of them.

I didn’t chase them. I didn’t figure them out. I didn’t judge them or tell myself I needed to empty my mind.

I just let them be.

After a while, I got down on the floor and stretched. I moved my body gently, noticing where it felt tight and where it wanted to loosen. I massaged a few sore muscles and became aware of my body, my breathing, and the gift of being alive.

Then I sat back down.

And somewhere in all that—sleeping, thinking, stretching, sitting—these words seemed to rise quietly from within as an invitation: learn to practice quiet.

I realized there’s a subtle difference between practicing stillness and practicing quiet.

Stillness often involves intentionally becoming physically and mentally still. We sit. We breathe. We release our thoughts. We become present.

It’s a beautiful contemplative practice.

But quiet feels a little different.

Quiet doesn’t require me to stop moving.

It doesn’t require my mind to stop thinking.

It doesn’t require the world around me to become silent.

Maybe quiet is less about eliminating the noise and more about learning not to add to it.

And maybe part of practicing quiet is learning to recognize what quiet actually feels like inside us, in our bodies.

The World Is Already Loud Enough

We live in a noisy world.

Phones buzz. Televisions talk. News commentators argue. Music plays in stores and gyms. Social media screams for our attention. Emails arrive. People need things from us. Families have problems to solve. Everyone seems to have an opinion about everything.

And then there’s the noise inside us.

What do I need to do today?

Why did she say that?

What if this happens?

Did I handle that correctly?

What will people think?

Why am I feeling this way?

Our minds can become just as noisy as the world.

One thought appears, and before we know it we’re ten minutes down the road having an imaginary conversation with somebody who isn’t even in the room.

Or replaying something that happened yesterday.

Or worrying about something that might happen tomorrow.

The spiritual invitation may not be to make all of that disappear.

It may be much simpler: I don’t have to become part of the noise.

I can practice quiet.

Quiet Isn’t an Empty Mind

Many of us have assumed contemplative prayer means learning how to stop thinking.

But have you ever tried to tell your brain not to think?

Good luck with that. Thinking is what minds do.

The invitation isn’t necessarily to eliminate our thoughts. It’s to stop automatically following every one of them.

A thought arises. We notice it.

Instead of climbing aboard and letting it carry us down some long mental highway, we let it pass.

No judgment. No analysis. No need to solve anything.

Just:

There’s another thought.

And then we come back.
Back to our breathing.
Back to our body.
Back to this moment.
Back to God.

And as we come back, we might also notice what happens inside us.

Does something soften?

Does our breathing deepen?

Do our shoulders relax?

Do we sense a little more space inside our chest, our stomach, or somewhere else in our body?

There’s no particular feeling we have to create.

We’re learning to notice: This is what quiet feels like in me.

This may also be what people mean when they talk about finding our center.

Quiet has a way of centering us—bringing us back from all the places our thoughts and worries have carried us and helping us become grounded again in the present moment.

And that center may even feel like it has a place in our body.

For some of us, it may feel like our heart space.

For others, it may be somewhere deep in the belly, the chest, or a grounded feeling throughout the body.

There’s no right place to find it.

The invitation is to notice: Where does quiet seem to center itself in me?

And then learn how to return there.

Maybe that’s one of the deepest forms of spiritual freedom: realizing I don’t have to follow every thought that enters my mind.

Quiet Can Move

This morning my time in the quiet also reminded me that contemplation doesn’t always have to mean sitting still.

Sometimes my body wants to stretch.

Sometimes it wants to walk.

Sometimes tight muscles need to loosen.

Sometimes I need to take a deep breath and become aware of the body God has given me.

And maybe those things don’t interrupt prayer. They become the prayer.

I’m here.

I’m alive.

I’m breathing.

I’m in this body.

God is here.

Nothing needs to be accomplished in this moment.

And then I can notice the quiet underneath all of that.

Not as an idea. As an experience.

Maybe it feels like a softening in my chest.

A loosening in my stomach.

A settling in my shoulders.

A sense of spaciousness somewhere deep within.

Or maybe it’s the feeling that, for this moment, I don’t have to go anywhere or fix anything.

I’m centered.

I’m here.

That too is quiet.

Jesus Practiced Quiet

When we look at the life of Jesus, we discover that quiet wasn’t simply an escape from life. It was part of how he lived.

The Gospels tell us that Jesus often withdrew from the crowds to lonely or deserted places to pray.

The needs were still there.

People were still waiting.

Yet Jesus stepped away.

He went into the quiet.

And then he returned to the noise.

But he didn’t seem to leave the quiet behind.

He carried it with him.

We see that when religious leaders bring before Jesus a woman accused of adultery.

The crowd is angry. Accusations are flying. Everyone wants Jesus to respond.

But Jesus doesn’t react right away.

He bends down and traces something with his finger on the ground.

Scripture doesn’t tell us what was happening within him, but maybe Jesus was doing in the crowd what he had practiced in solitude: creating space, listening, refusing to be pulled into the noise.

Then he stood and responded.

Maybe that’s part of what Jesus teaches us about quiet.

We practice it when we’re alone so we can carry it with us when life gets loud.

Sometimes we withdraw to a quiet place.

Other times, we remain in the chaos. But we pause.

We take a breath.

We notice our body.

We return to that quiet center within.

We listen.

And then we respond.

Taking Quiet Into a Noisy World

Eventually, quiet time ends.

The day begins.

The phone comes back on.

There are conversations to have, people to listen to, responsibilities to carry, traffic to navigate, news reports to hear, music playing at the gym, phones ringing, and countless things demanding our attention.

But maybe the real purpose of quiet time isn’t simply to experience twenty minutes of peace in the morning.

Maybe it’s to teach us how to recognize quiet within ourselves and carry it into the rest of the day.

We can listen to someone without already preparing our response.

We can hear the news without allowing every headline to hijack our nervous system.

We can notice an anxious thought without chasing it.

We can feel frustration rising in our body without immediately acting on it.

We can pause before sending the text.

We can breathe before answering the criticism.

We can sit in traffic without turning the gridlock into an inner war.

And in those moments, we can notice our body.

What does quiet feel like inside me right now?

Where is my center?

Maybe there’s a little more room around the anxiety.

Maybe our jaw loosens.

Maybe our shoulders drop.

Maybe our breathing becomes slower.

Maybe we feel something settle in our heart or belly.

Maybe we feel our feet on the ground and realize: We’re here. Now.

Even if the noise outside us hasn’t changed, something inside us has.

We’ve returned to our quiet center.

This doesn’t mean withdrawing from life. Instead, it helps us become more present to life.

When I’m not constantly adding my own inner commentary to everything happening around me, something changes.

I can actually listen.

I can actually see.

I can actually receive the person standing in front of me.

I can notice what’s happening in my own body.

And maybe I can become more aware of the quiet presence of God already here in this moment.

Quiet as a Way of Being

Maybe that’s the invitation.

Not simply to have quiet time. But to gradually become quiet.

Not silent. Not passive. Not disconnected.

Quiet.
Grounded.
Centered.
Present.
Listening.
Aware.
And embodied.

The world doesn’t need another voice reacting to every other voice.

Sometimes the greatest gift we can bring into a noisy room is a person who has learned how to remain quietly present.
Practicing quiet for twenty minutes, an hour, or even a few breaths every morning slowly teaches our mind and body another way of being.

Over time, our body recognizes it.

I know this place.

I know what quiet feels like.

I know how to return to my center.

And then, little by little, we carry that way of being with us.

We don’t master it.

We practice it.

Again and again.

A Tool for Your Spiritual Toolbox: Practicing Quiet

Sometime today, give yourself five or ten minutes to practice quiet.

Don’t worry about doing it perfectly.

Sit. Stand. Walk. Stretch. Lie down.

Let your body find what feels natural.

Notice your breathing. Notice your body. Notice the sounds around you.

And when thoughts arise, don’t fight them.

Don’t judge them. Don’t chase them.

Notice them and let them pass.

Then bring your attention gently into your body. Notice what quiet feels like from the inside.

Where do you experience it?

Maybe there’s a softening.

A settling.

A sense of openness.

A deeper breath.

Less tightness.

More inner space.

Now notice where that quiet seems to center itself within you.

Maybe it’s in your heart space.

Maybe it’s lower in your belly.

Maybe it feels like a grounded place somewhere deep within you that you can’t quite name.

There’s no right answer.

You’re discovering your own experience of quiet. Your own center.

Let your body learn: This is what quiet feels like. This is where I feel centered.

Then gently remind yourself: I don’t have to add to the noise. I don’t have to chase every thought. I don’t have to make anything happen.

God is here.

I can practice quiet.

And then comes the real practice.

Step back into your day and see if you can carry a little of that quiet with you.

In the car. At work. At the gym. Around the dinner table. While scrolling through the news. When your phone buzzes. During a difficult conversation. In the middle of your racing thoughts.

When you notice yourself getting hooked by the noise, pause.

Take one breath.

Feel your body.

Return to your center.

Notice that inner space again.

Come back to the present moment.

And whisper:

I can practice quiet—even here. Even now.

Over time, we may discover the world doesn’t have to become quiet for us to experience quiet.

The people around us don’t have to change.

Our thoughts don’t have to disappear.

Our lives don’t have to become less complicated.

We can learn to recognize and return to that quiet center within us even while life keeps moving around us.

And, perhaps, when we return to that center, we discover something even deeper: God is already here.

Not somewhere else.

Not when life settles down.

Not when we get prayer right.

Here. Now.

In this breath.

In this body.

In this moment.

Waiting to be noticed.

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Want to Help Your Community Experience God in Everyday Life?

Would you like to bring the Divine Flow Lifestyle to your church, retreat center, small group, or community? Through talks, workshops, retreats, and the Divine Flow Lifestyle Experience, we can help people quiet their minds, awaken their hearts, experience God’s presence, and live more fully from their True Self in God.

If you’re wondering what this might look like in your community, I’d love to have a conversation. Schedule a free discovery call and let’s explore together how Divine Flow Lifestyle might serve the people you’re called to support.

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If you’re seeking a gentler start to your mornings—one you can carry with you into your day to find more inner peace—I invite you to join divineFlow Daily, a free short reflection and quote sent to your inbox each day. In under a minute, it’s meant to help you slow down, breathe, and remember what truly gives life before the noise sets in.

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