Breaking The Spin Cycle

Finding Stillness When Everything Turns

Somewhere between two Junes ago and this past summer, I decided that nothing I wrote was worth sharing. At the time, I believed that fully. Even after an eight-week writing course and a whole summer with a writing mentor, I felt like I had produced nothing but scribbles and nonsense. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but that is honestly how it felt then.

That feeling has shifted. It was a truth that belonged only to that moment. I’ve learned that holding tightly to temporary truths can take us down some difficult paths. So, in the way I know best, I stepped back. I let go of what felt forced, focused on other things, and in a way, gave up. Not dramatically, but in the form of a long exhale — a real surrender. Sometimes letting go happens to us, and other times we convince ourselves we are choosing it even when the timing isn’t right.

Between burnout, demoralization, and paying too much attention to the state of the world — this government and that one, systems that use power as control and control as a distorted expression of care — something in me slowly drained. I found my life force thinning, and the wellness of my soul began to fade.

I have always tried to be a proponent of love. In the ugly and the dark, I practice being love. In the violent and the corrupt, I practice being love. In excess, greed, overindulgence, and craving, I return to love again. And still, I found myself caught in a cycle of the very hindrances I know so well. When that happens, love becomes depleted, and control steps in and starts to disguise itself as love.

Briefly, without preaching: the five Buddhist hindrances — sensual desire, ill will, sloth and torpor, restlessness and worry, and doubt — are states that block clarity. Each has its antidote: concentration for desire, loving-kindness for ill will, attentive engagement for sloth, tranquility for restlessness, and confidence for doubt.

One thing practice continues to teach me is that stillness is possible even when everything around and within me is turning. There are moments when the world feels like it’s spinning faster than I can keep up, but something quiet and steady remains available, like a small unmoving point in the center of a wheel. Remembering that has saved me more than once.

The beautiful thing about practice is that we never know when the flash of insight will arrive. The challenge comes when dedication and stillness seem to yield nothing at all. That is when even a little faith can go a long way. I won’t claim to have found the answer, but I can say with more certainty now that interrupting harmful cycles has opened a way toward clarity, patience, and ease. And in that space, things have begun to feel more workable again.

This morning, while drinking a hot cup of good enough coffee after practice, I simply wanted to share something real. Not a polished performance and not a self-righteous testament to discipline. At this point in life, forty-two years in, I have realized that relying on an imagined, fantasy-filled future is a reliable path to disappointment. So instead, I take what I have today. With deep gratitude, I bow to the enoughness, goodness, and gladness that my heart holds right now.

Thanks for getting this far. Sending a warm embrace. Be well.