The Art of Letting Go: Discovering Stillness Within
A mindful look at Centering Prayer and the neuroscience of release.
Returning to the Shore
There were once two fishermen who stood side by side along the shoreline, casting their lines into the quiet waters just beyond the harbor.
The morning was still. The waves were gentle. The younger fisherman breathed in the peace of the hour.
For a while, it was enough — just the rhythm of the tide and the soft tug of the line.
But as the sun rose higher, the quiet began to unravel. First came the distant hum of charter boats. Then the sharp buzz of jet skis skipping across the water. A party boat cut its motor nearby, flooding the shoreline with music, laughter, and the clinking of bottles.
The younger fisherman’s breath grew shallow. His jaw tightened. His mind, once still, now tossed by waves of noise.
Why here? Why now? This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
Finally, frustration overtook him. He turned to the older man and asked,
“How can you be so calm in all this?”
The older fisherman smiled. “Because I’m not out in the water,” he said.
Casting his line again, eyes soft on the horizon, he added,
“You won’t find your peace out there. It’s here — on the shore.”
—The Parable of the One Who Stayed on the Shore
The Younger Fisherman in All of Us
There’s a familiar struggle most of us know—the fight to let go of a thought, feeling, or fear. Our minds refuse to release their grip until they’re sure the threat is gone. But in that struggle, logic doesn’t help. Distraction doesn’t help. The harder we try to push a thought away, the tighter it holds on.
In many ways, I’m the younger fisherman. Maybe you are, too.
I picture myself standing on the shore, resting in peace, when a worry, doubt, or conflict drifts across the sea of my consciousness. Before I realize it, I’ve climbed aboard—caught in the motion, driven by the urge to fix or control what’s happening—until I’m swept out into the waves of my own distress.
Sometimes the problem feels like a party boat—loud, chaotic, impossible to ignore. We tell ourselves to breathe, to stay calm, to let go. Yet somehow, we still find ourselves on board. Once there, it’s hard to remember there was ever a shore at all.
When Mindfulness Feels Impossible
If you’ve ever tried mindfulness, you know it promises peace in theory—but in practice, it can feel impossible. For those who are neurodivergent or in crisis, “just breathe” can sound condescending or absurd. It doesn’t feel intuitive, and the mind pushes back: How is that supposed to solve my problem?
Mindfulness is, at its core, the act of stepping off the boat and returning to shore. Stay in the water too long—boarding every thought and feeling—and you’ll be swept away. The goal isn’t to fix what’s out there; it’s to return to the quiet place within.
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In Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), mindfulness means observing and describing the present moment without judgment—staying aware of what’s happening within and around you without being swept away.
This is achieved by observing and describing what you’re experiencing without catastrophizing it—simply noticing the facts and choosing to participate by consenting to stay on the shore.
You practice this by taking a nonjudgmental stance: when you feel something, simply feel it; when you see something, simply see it—without labeling it as good or bad.
You do this one-mindfully (what I call “staying out of the boats”) and effectively, choosing what actually works rather than what you think should work.
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Temperature shifts: a cold splash, a warm shower, or an ice cube in your hand. Grounding for some, overstimulating for others.
Intense exercise: great for releasing energy, but the “party boat” may come roaring back when you’re exhausted.
Paced breathing: inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four, hold again for four. Simple yet powerful — though the mind can still cling like Velcro.
Progressive muscle relaxation: tense and release one muscle group at a time. Helpful, though often difficult to sustain alone.
Sometimes none of these tools feel like enough. You breathe, stretch, do everything right — yet your mind keeps re-boarding the same boat.
That’s why I want to share something gentler — a contemplative practice that’s helped me and many clients find the shore again.
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The human brain loves solving problems. It’s wired for efficiency — it hates wasting energy. For thousands of years, its main job has been simple: keep you alive while burning as few calories as possible.
The problem? The world has evolved faster than our wiring. Your brain still reacts to a missed text or looming deadline as if it were a charging mammoth. It can’t always tell the difference between danger and discomfort.
That’s why mindfulness matters. It reminds the brain that not every wave is a storm.
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DeNeuropsychologist Rick Hanson, in Buddha’s Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love, and Wisdom, describes the mind as Velcro for negative experiences and Teflon for positive ones.
Evolution wired us to remember danger more than safety — a crucial bias that once kept us alive but now often keeps us anxious.
So if your mind clings to every negative thought or feeling, it’s not broken — it’s doing its best to protect you.
Real wisdom is knowing when to let go. You weren’t created to fight every battle or board every ship.
This is where trauma, neurodivergence, and chronic stress can amplify the stickiness — but mindfulness helps soften it. It’s how we turn Velcro minds into Teflon minds.scription text goes here
The Door That Opens from the Other Side
Staying on the shore doesn’t mean pretending the chaos isn’t there. The boats still pass by; you just don’t have to climb aboard.
If traditional mindfulness hasn’t worked for you, try this: Centering Prayer, also known as Contemplative Prayer or Mindfulness.
It weaves together mindfulness and faith — not striving, but consenting to be held by something greater.
Trappist monk Thomas Keating, who helped modernize this ancient practice, wrote:
“You cannot force this door open. It opens from the other side.”
Stillness can’t be forced. As Marsha Linehan teaches, there must be willingness—not willfulness.
Keating explained it this way:
“Detaching the mind from its routines of thinking is a process we can only initiate — like taking the stopper out of a bathtub. The water drains on its own.”
Why This Centering Prayer Works
Before we get to the “how,” it helps to understand why it works.
Spiritually, mindfulness begins with yielding—with recognizing our limits and accepting that not every burden is ours to carry. That isn’t weakness; it’s wisdom. Surrendering even briefly to a higher, more capable power can loosen the mind’s grip and open the heart to peace.
Across contemplative traditions — from Buddhism’s non-clinging, to Sufism’s tawakkul, to Christianity’s “be still and know” — the invitation is the same: stop striving for control, and allow peace to emerge through acceptance, consent and trust in a higher power.
For those who want to explore this practice in more depth, Contemplative Outreach offers a resource called Centering Prayer for Everyone, written in inclusive, welcoming language for those seeking connection or meaning—whether or not they identify as Christian. Learn more here.
Psychologically: after just a few minutes of mindful surrender — simply breathing, observing, and allowing — the nervous system recalibrates. The fight-or-flight response eases. The prefrontal cortex re-engages. The problem may remain, but your grip softens.
Over time, urgency fades. The Velcro loosens. You remember that you are already enough.
How to Practice Centering Prayer
Adapted from the Centering Prayer guidelines developed by Contemplative Outreach.
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A symbol of your intention to consent to divine presence and action within. Examples: Peace. Grace. Safe. Release. I am here. I am enough.
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Close your eyes, breathe, and allow your word to anchor you — a reminder to stay on the shore.
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Your only job is to just be present.
The brain takes time to settle. Twenty minutes is ideal, twice a day if possible. But start small — even five minutes helps your brain learn the rhythm of stillness.
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When thoughts pull you in, softly return to your word and your intention to surrendering this moment and burden to a higher and more capable power. No judgment, no force. Just a quiet return.
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When your time is up, remain in silence for a few minutes and reflect on some “I am affirmations” before re-entering your day. When you’re centered, these truths tend to sink a little deeper.
A Note on Affirmations
After centering prayer, your mind is more open to challenging automatic negative thoughts.
Research shows that daily affirmations — when practiced consistently and grounded in personal values — can improve mood, reduce stress, and increase self-awareness.
One tool I often recommend is the I Am app. It offers a wide range of affirmations—focused on mental health, neurodivergence, spirituality, and self-compassion—and can send gentle reminders throughout the day.
Returning to the Shore
There’s no failure in centering prayer — every return to your sacred word is the practice.
Like learning an instrument or a sport, you’ll stumble, get distracted, and grow impatient at first. Be gentle with yourself and keep going. That’s how we get better.
With time, you grow steadier. Intrusive thoughts loosen their grip. Setbacks soften. You remember you’re not the one holding everything together.
There’s always a place to return to — your word, your intention, your trust that things will be taken care of while you rest in the stillness of the shore.
In the beginning, even twenty minutes felt out of reach. By starting small, I trained my mind to settle into stillness. Within two weeks, the effort eased, and stillness began to meet me halfway. I’m not perfect with daily practice, but each moment I manage is deeply worthwhile.
Now, when life pulls me back into the water, I know my way to shore.
Be patient. Be gentle. Just show up. Your God’s got you — and the water will settle.
“As muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone, it could be argued that those who sit quietly and do nothing are making one of the best possible contributions to a world of turmoil.” — Alan Watts
Peace has been waiting for you on the shore all along.
Finding Your Way Back to Shore—Together
This practice takes practice — but you don’t have to do it alone.
There are Centering Prayer and mindfulness communities meeting online and in person. You can find groups through Contemplative Outreach or local spiritual centers.
If you’d like support in building this rhythm, Clarity Coaches, at Flourishing Oak would be honored to walk with you. You can book a free 15-minute consultation at FlourishingOak.com/contact.
Note: Matt Johnson offers insight-based coaching through Flourishing Oak and is not currently practicing as a licensed therapist in this setting. His writing draws on lived experience and professional training to support personal and relational growth. Residents of California can connect with therapy services through Matt’s Psychology Today profile.
