There seems to be a very common misunderstanding about meditation and relaxation, and it is the idea that it either works for you or it doesn’t. That some people naturally sit down, close their eyes, and enter a peaceful state, while others simply cannot access it no matter how hard they try. Over the years, and especially through my own experience, I have come to understand that this is not really how the nervous system works.
What we are dealing with is not a talent, but a training of attention, and more importantly, a gradual reorganization of neural patterns that have been reinforced over a lifetime. From a neuroscientific point of view, this is closely related to the default mode network, a set of brain regions that becomes active when the mind is not focused on a specific task and which is strongly associated with self-referential thinking, memory and rumination. There is nothing inherently wrong with this system, it is part of how we construct identity and plan for the future, but when it dominates, attention becomes trapped in repetitive loops that pull us away from the present moment.
I have written before about the importance of repetition, but I feel this is a subject that deserves to be revisited from a more embodied perspective, because I myself have experienced the frustration of feeling stuck in that internal loop of rumination. That constant movement between past and future where the present moment is not absent, but inaccessible, because the mind is trained to move elsewhere.
What I discovered through time is that meditation is not about forcing the mind to stop, but about changing the relationship with these movements. It is about training the capacity to notice when we are absorbed in thought and gently returning, not once, but repeatedly, until the nervous system begins to recognize a different reference point. Neuroplasticity explains this process very clearly, since the brain strengthens what it repeats. Neural pathways that are activated consistently become more efficient, and over time this creates new defaults in attention and emotional regulation.
I do not believe it is necessary to withdraw from life in order to develop this capacity. Retreats can be deeply beneficial, and I do not deny their value, but in my case there were responsibilities that could not be put aside. Children, daily tasks, the rhythm of life itself. There was no space for isolation, and yet there was still a need for change, because there comes a moment where you realize that if you do not actively participate in shifting your internal state, nothing external is going to do it for you.
One of the first things I became aware of was the level of physical tension I was carrying. Especially in my shoulders. It was as if the body had adopted stress as a baseline state. Even now, I notice it immediately. When I am working or focused on something, I will often release that tension consciously, moving the shoulders, shaking them slightly, allowing the nervous system to reset what had become automatic. This is not a symbolic gesture, it is a direct interaction with the body’s stress response, which is continuously regulated through somatic feedback loops between the brain and the musculature.
My first form of meditation was not formal at all. I would go for walks and focus on simple tasks, like picking up litter in a park near my home. I would use a tool to collect what others had left behind, and in that process I began to notice something very subtle. My attention was no longer completely absorbed by thought. It was divided in a different way, anchored in movement, breath and perception. I was not trying to meditate, I was simply learning how to stay present within an activity.
With time, I began to recognize the difference between being inside the mind and being in direct contact with experience. At first, the shift was unstable. The mind would constantly pull me back into internal narratives, but something important had already happened, which is that awareness of two distinct states had emerged. One automatic, one present. That recognition alone changes the structure of attention, because what is unconscious begins to become observable.
Later I introduced breath-based meditation, although at the beginning I could only maintain it for very short periods. The duration was not the relevant factor, what mattered was the repetition of returning. Even brief moments of stillness begin to accumulate in the nervous system in a way that is not immediately visible, but nonetheless real. The brain does not reorganize itself through intensity, but through consistency.
At a certain point I also started using tuning forks. In my experience, sound works as an external anchor that helps regulate internal chaos. When the mind is highly active, it is often impossible to simply think your way into calmness. Sound bypasses that loop and engages the sensory system directly, giving the nervous system a coherent stimulus to organize around. From a physiological perspective, auditory input has a direct influence on the autonomic nervous system and can support shifts toward parasympathetic activation, which is associated with rest and recovery states.
What I began to understand through all of this is that meditation is not a passive practice. It is a form of training that requires accumulation over time. And this accumulation does not depend on perfect conditions, but on the decision to engage with it even in fragmented, imperfect moments of life.
There was also a shift in perspective that happened gradually. I stopped seeing this process as something external that I was trying to achieve, and started to understand it as something internal that I was actively building. The responsibility was no longer outside, it was within. And that shift alone changes everything, because it moves you from waiting into participating.
Modern neuroscience increasingly supports this understanding. Studies in mindfulness-based practices show measurable changes in brain regions involved in attention regulation, emotional processing and self-awareness. There is also evidence of reduced activity in the default mode network with consistent practice, which correlates with reduced rumination and improved emotional stability. But beyond the scientific validation, what matters most is the lived experience of it, because there comes a point where the body recognizes a different state of being before the mind can fully explain it.
And over time, what once felt inaccessible begins to feel familiar. Not because the mind has been silenced, but because attention has been trained to no longer be fully captured by it.
If you want, I can next step it up into a more “Akashine signature” version with more emotional depth and spiritual tone without losing neuroscience grounding.