Sacred Stillness: My Journey with Meditation and Ayurveda

Sacred Stillness: My Journey with Meditation and Ayurveda

by Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

You ever feel like you’re right. there, present in the moment but something inside of you is missing? Like, your body’s in the room, nodding, talking, even laughing but your spirit’s two blocks away, sitting in silence, waiting for you to catch up? That was me for a long while. Smiling on the outside, sinking on the inside. And the thing is, nobody tells you how loud your thoughts can get when you’re living quietly in your own storm. That inner noise? It’ll eat away at you if you don’t learn how to hush it with something more powerful than distraction.

That’s where meditation slid into my life not loud, not fancy, just… there. Almost like the divine whispered, “Sit down, close your eyes, and let Me speak louder than your fear.”

Now don’t get it twisted I didn’t dive in and float right into bliss. Nah. My first few sessions were rough. I’d sit there all hopeful, cross-legged and determined, and within minutes, I was thinking about what groceries I forgot, who hadn’t texted me back, and whether the laundry was still in the machine molding up. It wasn’t magic at first. It was messy. It was uncomfortable. It was real.

But I kept showing up. Even when my mind was spinning like a broken fan, I came back to the breath. Simple stuff box breathing saved me in those early days. Inhale 4 counts, hold 4, exhale 4, hold 4. Like a quiet drumbeat grounding me when the world felt offbeat. Then came mantra meditation, where I’d hum sacred sounds or whisper affirmations like, “I am still” or “Peace lives here.” And slowly, slowly, something shifted. The silence stopped feeling scary. It started to feel like home.

And listen there were days it got deep. I mean real deep. I remember one moment, I was mid-meditation, breathing slow, everything got quiet then bam I felt myself float. Like I’d left my body behind for a sec. I could literally see myself sitting there, eyes closed, calm as a Sunday breeze. I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t gone. I was just... more than skin and bones. It was like my soul stepped out to stretch a little. No fear, just this overwhelming warmth. Like the Creator had wrapped me up in light and whispered, “See? You were never alone.”

Now, while meditation helped me get quiet and centered, Ayurveda helped me get grounded and steady. That ancient wisdom ain’t just herbs and fancy spice blends. It’s a full-body, full-spirit kind of healing. I found out I’m what they call a Vata type all air and motion, always dreaming, creating, thinking. Sounds poetic, sure. But when it’s out of whack? Whew. It’s anxiety, restlessness, and a brain that won’t hit pause.

Ayurveda taught me to ground. I started simple: barefoot walks on the grass before sunrise. Feeling the earth under me, like nature was charging me up for the day. I’d drink warm ginger tea in the morning just ginger, a slice of lemon, and honey and it calmed my nerves better than any pill could. I changed how I ate. More cooked veggies, warm soups, hearty spices stuff that hugged my insides.

Every morning, I’d do this thing called oil pulling swishing sesame oil in my mouth while pacing around the kitchen like a monk in slippers. Not the most glamorous ritual, but man, it made my mouth feel clean and my thoughts even cleaner. Then came tongue scraping and don’t laugh, but that little metal tool felt like a therapist some mornings. Scraping off yesterday’s gunk, both literal and emotional. Felt like I was saying, “Today, I speak from a fresh place.”

I even got into this whole ritual of rubbing warm oil on my skin Abhyanga they call it. I’d speak life over myself while I did it. “You’re still here. You’re still growing. You’re still worthy.” That wasn’t just skincare it was soul care.

Now let me tell you something funny because not every moment on this healing path is deep and poetic. One time, I was feeling extra spiritual, like, enlightenment’s calling, let me answer. I made myself a cup of triphala tea for a full-body cleanse. They said it would detox your whole system. What they didn’t mention was how fast that system was gonna start evacuating. I took a few sips, sat down to meditate, and within minutes my stomach said, “You better run.” I barely made it to the bathroom. There I was, sweating, laughing, borderline crying, whispering, “Alright, Creator I said I wanted to let go, but not like this!” That was a humbling day, but hey it worked. I was cleaner, lighter, and way less full of myself.

See, all of it the breathwork, the rituals, the mess-ups and magic moments it helped me peel back the noise and get to the real me. The me that isn’t defined by pain or people or pressure. The me that remembers joy even when life ain’t joyful. The me that can sit in silence and hear God louder than any sermon.

I still have days when my mind races and my heart feels heavy. I still get knocked off balance. But now, I know how to come back. I return to the breath. To the oil. To the earth. To the quiet. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present.

And if you’re reading this thinking, “Maybe I need some of that peace,” let me say this start small. Sit down. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Sip something warm. Touch the ground. Laugh when it gets awkward. Cry when it gets real. Let go of needing it to look a certain way. Just show up. Again and again and again.

Because peace ain’t something you find out there. It’s something you remember inside you.

And when you sit still long enough, it’ll remember you too.

Let me know if you want this as part of your book layout, a spoken word version, or even a recording script. We can remix it however you’d like.