Ever walked into a room and instantly felt the tension, even though no one said a word? Or found yourself inexplicably exhausted after spending time with certain people? I used to think I was just overly sensitive. After getting my psychology degree, I'd find myself completely drained after social gatherings, carrying emotions that didn't even feel like mine. It wasn't until I dove deeper into Eastern philosophy and mindfulness practices that I realized something profound: I was absorbing other people's emotions like a sponge.
"Piano piano" is an old Italian saying that sounds nonsensical, but is actually full of wisdom, especially if you, like me, are finding yourself wishing away these frigid winter days and hoping spring and summer gets here fast. These days, I've found myself rushing from one thing to the next, frustrated at the smallest things, from post office lines to just missing my train. And I'm ready to make a change.
On a cool, rainy afternoon in the wilds of Laikipia, Kenya, I am lying in savasana, or corpse pose, beside a log fire in the pool house of Enasoit Camp. The teacher, Laura Bunting, gently intones a yoga nidra to our small, all-female group, during which I slip in and out of a hypnotic half-light state, only vaguely aware of the sound of rain on the thatched roof and the percussive efforts of a nearby woodpecker.
A simple mindful practice that can slow down emotional reaction, invite a breath, and encourage you to pause before you post. Social media has made it easy to broadcast our thoughts and feelings far and wide in an instant. At the same time, we often don't even consider the huge numbers of people who will read what we share. How many friends do you have across your socials? 300 to 400? 500 plus? How often do you really pause before you post?
There is a particular form of blindness that afflicts the fortunate-a blindness to the quiet miracles of ordinary existence. We walk through our days surrounded by what a patient once called "unexperienced happiness," moving through gifts we no longer recognize as gifts, breathing blessings we've forgotten are blessings. It often takes a brush with loss to restore our sight. This is a meditation that can perhaps grant us more mindfulness than hundreds of seminars. It's about the obvious that we sometimes simply no longer see.
You feel an unpleasant sensation - like a sinking feeling of anxiety in your stomach as the game begins, and you think, "I'm anxious. Here we go again. I'm about to blow it." You feel your pain increasing, and the thoughts churn: "Great. I'll probably miss a whole week of work." Imagined catastrophes fill your mind. Manage these thoughts with the 3 C's: Catch it, Check it, and Change it.
When Michael Pollan traveled to a cave in New Mexico to try to understand consciousness, he learned what good meditation is really made of. "The recipe was simpler (and much less appetizing) than I would have imagined," he writes: " To transcend the self, force yourself to be alone with it long enough to get so bored and exhausted that you are happy to let it go. "
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially after watching my wife's Vietnamese grandmother at a recent family gathering. At 82, she moves through life with this remarkable lightness, even though she's lived through more hardship than I can imagine. She doesn't speak much English, but her presence speaks volumes. What makes someone age into that kind of person? The one who glows from within, who seems genuinely content, who younger people naturally gravitate toward?
Instead, they practice something called "friluftsliv" - literally "free air life" - and in February, when winter feels endless, this practice becomes almost sacred. It's their secret weapon against the darkness, and after trying it myself during a particularly rough winter, I can tell you it works better than any supplement I've ever taken. The word itself sounds complicated, but friluftsliv is beautifully simple. It means spending time outdoors, regardless of weather conditions. Not despite the cold and darkness, but because of it.
Remaining present in the modern world includes noticing the good. We're not talking toxic positivity here. We're referring to a simple commitment to also noticing what's good in the world even as you navigate what's not. Whether you find these reminders burrowed in a news story, the feeling of being on your mat or out on a run, or the eyes of a loved one doesn't matter. Noticing them does.
Why would you do that? It's a way to remove distraction, calm your nervous system and practise mindfulness. And get clean. Yes, you also get clean. But this is more about finding those small, intentional moments that release you from the cares of your day. It sounds like an accident waiting to happen. You don't have to shower in complete darkness just in dim light, even by candlelight.
Last week, I tried to watch a movie without doing anything else. Just watching. No phone, no laptop, no second screen. I made it exactly 12 minutes before my hand started twitching toward my pocket like some kind of digital zombie. And that's when it hit me. This isn't about being lazy or unmotivated. This constant restlessness, this inability to truly relax, it's something else entirely.
We've become professional overthinkers, analyzing every interaction, second-guessing our decisions, and living everywhere except right here, right now. The constant mental chatter is exhausting. Trust me, as someone who once spent an entire weekend mentally rewriting a two-sentence email I'd already sent, I get it. But here's what I've learned: staying present isn't about emptying your mind or achieving some zen-like state of perpetual calm.
I had no idea what to practice, when to practice, or for how long. As a result, my practice lacked structure, variety, and inspiration. Then, I discovered an online yoga & meditation platform rooted in Himalayan wisdom. It wasn't just about movement; it was about building a relationship with myself. I started with 15 minutes a day. That was it. Sometimes, just breathwork. Other times, meditation. And occasionally, a full-body kriya that left me buzzing with energy.
Ever tried sitting alone in a room for 10 minutes without touching your phone? No scrolling, no checking notifications, just you and silence. If you just felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought, you're not alone. Most people today struggle with this simple act. We've become so accustomed to constant stimulation that silence feels uncomfortable, even threatening. But here's what's fascinating: those who can comfortably sit in silence without reaching for their devices possess certain psychological qualities that are becoming increasingly rare
Anger is a deeply human emotion that arises frequently in our lives. Often, it serves as a shield, concealing more vulnerable feelings like fear, shame, rejection, and helplessness. Many of us have a challenging relationship with anger. Anger, like other emotions, usually comes with an "action tendency"-a motivation to do something. We experience anger when our needs are unmet, and we want to take action to correct the situation.
Whenever there's a spare minute, your first instinct is to reach for your phone and scroll. But what if you didn't? Experts confirm the benefits of this new take on old ways to pass time
Ever wonder why some people seem to stay mentally sharp well into their 70s and 80s while others start struggling with brain fog in their 60s? According to research from Harvard Medical School, the difference often comes down to daily habits-and here's the kicker: even small changes made after 60 can significantly improve cognitive function and protect against decline. The brain is remarkably adaptable at any age.
"Oh, you know me; I'm a perfectionist." Many, if not most, of us have either heard someone else say something like that or we've uttered it ourselves. But what does that really mean? What if there's more than one kind of perfectionism, and what kinds of coping techniques might be useful for someone who identifies as a perfectionist? In a recent study, researchers built on prior work by looking at changes in how much people were using mindfulness and self-compassion techniques over a two-week period.
When things start to unravel, Nayyar doesn't reach for motivational podcasts or productivity hacks. He repeats one word to himself instead: Surrender. "Sometimes, if I find myself really banging my head against something, and it's just one of those days where everything's going wrong, I just tell myself surrender," Nayyar tells Fortune. "Take a breath. Take a pause. Let's just see what happens."
With the passing of the band's rhythm guitarist, Bob Weir, many of us are sitting with yet another quiet, unexpected grief amid a world that seems perpetually heavy. And The Grateful Dead has long been a companion to our shared experiences, and their work continues to resonate in wellness, yoga, and ritual spaces. Because it was never just about music.
When the new arrives, we generally have two choices in how we respond. The first path is resistance. This is the path of fear. We tighten up, we judge the change, we worry about the future, and we try to fight it. This path almost always creates suffering. The second path is acceptance. This doesn't mean "giving up"; it means opening up. It is the path of curiosity where we observe, learn, and adapt. This path creates peace.
One of my dear friends was recently caught up in this swirl and roil. An attorney in the Department of Justice, the days of DOGE forced her to choose among uncertain options and to try to find firm footing in a landscape that shifted from solid to sand on a dime. Should she stay or go? Retire early or risk being fired? Each option had potential consequences beyond where she might clock in each day. What of her career trajectory? Her sense of purpose?
Welcome to HBR On Leadership. These episodes are case studies and conversations with the world's top business and management experts, hand-selected to help you unlock the best in those around you. I'm HBR senior editor and producer Amanda Kersey. As a leader, noticing where your attention goes is a skill that affects your judgment, learning, listening-basically every aspect of how you think and show up.
What if, instead of relying on the consumption of media, you relied on your imagination and your memories? You could reminisce about particularly enjoyable sex you've previously had with your wife, fantasize about sex you might have with her in the future, and use embodiment and mindfulness skills (specifically, the ones that focus on being present in the moment and noticing all the details) to soak up the experiences of the weekly-or-so sex you do get to have with your wife (and bank that for future wanking).
I used to think being busy meant being successful. My days were a blur of meetings, notifications, and commitments. My calendar looked impressive, but at night I lay awake wondering why I felt so exhausted and strangely unfulfilled. One rainy Tuesday, stuck in traffic between two appointments I didn't really want to attend, it hit me: I wasn't living my life. I was managing it. I'd filled my days with activity, but not necessarily with value.
On a rainy afternoon last weekend, plans got cancelled and I found myself at a loose end. Given that I'm someone who likes to have backup plans for my backup plans, my initial response was panic. Now what? I wandered aimlessly from room to room, grumpily tidying away random items. Noticing for the first time in weeks that most of my houseplants were critically ill, I decided to give them a spa day.
