Peace And Quiet
The Quiet I Didn’t Know I Needed
I’ve spent most of my life thinking my way through things — reasoning, analysing, managing. It’s worked, mostly.
But lately, I’d begun to suspect that thinking had become its own kind of noise.
The Practice of Peace wasn’t what I expected. There were no techniques, no promises of insight. Just space — structured, intentional stillness with another man who wasn’t asking me to explain myself. The simplicity was almost unsettling.
The nudity, oddly enough, was the least of it. It wasn’t about exposure but the absence of pretence.
When everything external was removed — the clothes, the devices, the roles — I became aware of how much of myself had been tied up in those things. What remained was quieter, and somehow more truthful.
At first, my mind did what it always does: tried to make sense of it. But after a while, there was nothing to interpret. Just presence — uncomplicated, unmeasured, shared. The body, I realised, understands peace long before the mind agrees to it.
I didn’t leave transformed. I left recalibrated — as if something essential had shifted half a degree closer to alignment. The experience doesn’t teach or preach.
This Practice of Peace simply removes the interference so you can hear what’s been there all along.
