To the One Who Thinks & Thinks (& Thinks Some More)

Dear friend,

I know you well. You are the one who taught yourself to stay safe by thinking—the one whose mind learned to solve, analyze, and anticipate as a way to belong.

A way to survive, to stay one step ahead of pain. Your mind has been your protector, your compass, your superpower.

And yet—there is another compass waiting for you.

One that lives beneath the noise of thought, deep in your body and heart. It speaks in sensations, not sentences. It doesn’t make sense the way thoughts do—and that is its gift.

Feelings aren’t puzzles to solve or problems to fix. They are messengers. They live in the quickening of your breath, the heaviness behind your ribs, the warmth flooding your chest when something matters.

And here’s the quiet magic: when you allow yourself to feel, your mind doesn’t lose control—it gains clarity.

The two were never meant to compete; they were always meant to work together.

I know how tempting it is to think about your feelings, to analyze them, wrap language around them, give them meaning. But here’s the truth your body keeps whispering: thinking through your feelings is not the same as feeling them.

And you don’t have to change everything overnight. This isn’t an all-or-nothing invitation. It’s a small, steady practice of noticing.

The next time you feel something stirring—joy, frustration, fear, or longing—pause. Just for a breath.

Where do you notice it?

Maybe there’s a flutter in your stomach, a tightness in your chest, a lump in your throat, or a warmth spreading low in your belly. You don’t need to define it, fix it, or make it mean anything.

Just notice it. That’s feeling.

You may notice the urge to shift into logic, to explain it away or distract yourself. That’s okay.

It means your body learned, somewhere along the way, that feeling wasn’t always safe. You’ve been doing the best you can with what you knew.

And now—you know something different.

You are allowed to stay. To breathe through it. To walk with what’s rising a little longer, without judgment, without story, and without explanation.

The more you practice staying present with your body’s sensations, the more your mind begins to soften into partnership. Clarity comes—not from thinking harder—but from listening deeper.

And from that place, your intuition grows louder. Your choices begin to align with what you truly want, not just what you’ve been told you should want.

This isn’t about abandoning your mind; it’s about bringing your mind and body back into belonging with each other.

Because when you allow yourself to feel, you are inviting all of yourself to the table—body, mind, and spirit.

You are returning home.

Every time you choose to feel, you are choosing wholeness over fragmentation. Aliveness over autopilot. Clarity over confusion.

That’s the practice. That’s the courage.

Forever with you in this,

Practice Postscript

The next time you notice your thoughts spiraling, pause. Place a hand over your chest or belly.

Take one slow, deep breath.

Ask your body softly: What are you holding right now that our mind is trying to solve or define?

You don’t need an answer.

Just listen. Just feel.

This is where the map begins to reveal itself.