9| Ayurveda: the gift of silence
originally written 12th April 2026
An exploration of how silence, grief and ancient wisdom intertwine - revealing that sometimes the deepest healing begins not by doing more, but by becoming still.
Why Silence Feels So Unnatural
Growing up, and probably still now, my dad used to call me “Natasha - why say 6 words when you can say it in 60”. Talking has been quite natural and didn’t ever carry much self-consciousness to it until later in life with certain situations beginning to tangle me up inside. In my life, I have talked for approximately 12,694 days, with an additional 639~ days of being hushed as not yet mature enough to know how to speak or still being in the womb and then 40 days that were spent in intentional silence (two single days, one 3-day sitting, one 10-day sitting, one 17-day sitting and just last week an 8-day sitting). Talking is what we humans do, right? It’s our default means of connecting to others and of getting by in life. Language barriers do a wonderful job at throwing us into a slightly awkward yet humbling state of body-language and grunts and smiles but even then we are still trying to communicate. How often do we simply rest in the wisdom of utter silence? Rarely…
An Unlikely Medicine
You’re probably wondering well, why would I want to? Or hell, I’m curious but I physically don’t think I could! Had someone asked me a few years back I would have likely said the same. But having had my first taste of elongated silence in 2023 it feels like one of the most essential medicines that I have access to in my peculiar ‘pharmaceutical’ cupboard.
“Listen to the silence, it has so much to say” ~ Rumi
There’s no denying it, I have been struggling over the past seven months or so and most acutely over the past four. First my mind and body went into overdrive from opening Pandora’s box of historic wounds for the first time with a TRE therapist at the very same time as falling in love and without that love itself having matured into a safe container (the two should carry a counterindication sign on their packets but for me didn’t). And second, my heart shatters from the relationship ending, but perhaps even more so, from the floodgates of personal realisations.
Tara Brach would call the type of sadness a soul sadness - grief for missed moments; for the way we realise we’ve been living this one wild and precious life; for moving through life with shame and without free self-expression. And sometimes it just takes the painful yet essential mirror of something that matters ending to reveal to us what is inside that has to die. At that moment there is a choice. We can either avoid going into the pain and allow patterns to repeat or we can craft a tender relationship with the present and better understand how to move forward.
The Exhaustion of Doing
My nature is to do. Apparently I am a human-being, but honestly, I sometimes feel more like a human-doing. My approach to healing has historically been no different. I had a slight healing burn-out before I surrendered to the Ayurvedic centre in early 2023. There were many spinning plates and I am quite a clumsy person… Yet the crescendo of the break-up inevitably happening led me to fall into that same default once again.
Since December, I have nourished myself with baths, novels, massage, music, nature, friends, rest, food, herbs, cacao and joy. I got back into my body with hatha yoga, self-massage and as many cuddles as I could possibly. I nurtured my spirit with meditation, poetry, ceramics and singing. I unearthed more insights, sought to understand myself better and process roots with talk therapy, EMDR, medicine therapy, writing, theta healing, reading and countless podcasts. I cried and cried and cried and cried until reservoirs were filled and my body dry. I supported my body to get stronger and energy moving with ayurvedic tweaks, acupuncture and breath but most importantly I chose to sit with myself…in silence.
When the Body Loses Its Compass
In Ayurveda they say that when we are most out of balance our body actually craves the very things that bring us further out of balance; not because a deeper wisdom doesn’t exist but because our ability to discern (tejas) is so out of whack. I may have been doing all the ‘right’ things and have certainly grown in the thick treacle of pain but perhaps I was simply ‘doing’ too much to really be able to hear my body’s own wisdom.
The type of dis-balance I have been experiencing is known as a vata imbalance. In Ayurveda, fear and anxiety are often seen as signs of excess vata - too much movement in the mind and nervous system. It meant that as my mind became more stimulated, lots of air and ether entered, bringing with them emotions I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Fear, doubt and anxiety began presenting themselves. Of course this affected my natural state, my ability to feel in flow, spontaneous, creative, grounded; to feel my authentic self. (The song Burgs by Mt. Wolf feels quite apt)
Stimulation of the mind & the Effect on Different Ayurvedic Constitutions
Vata vitiation in mind:
increase in the air and ether elements
fear//anxiety//doubt appears
re-balance with grounding and calming practices and aromas
Pitta vitiation in mind
increase of fire element
anger//desire to want to fight//criticism appears
re-balance with cooling and calming practices and aromas
Kapha vitiation in mind
increase of earth element
inertia//dullness//confusion//numbness appears in mind
rebalance with awakening and stimulating practices and aromas
Returning to Ground
The antidote to fear in Ayurveda is cultivating faith and the antidote to a busy mind (i.e. too much air//ether) is introducing more earth. There’re countless ways in which we can allow for this and there is no better single mechanism than to sit, on the ground, in stillness and connect to truth. And, silent retreats exist to support exactly that.
The most commonly known retreats are vipassana. Whilst I haven’t experienced these yet myself, I understand that they carry a very yang energy, with a rigid structure, lack of human presence from a transmission of teachings perspective, an enormous number of hours sitting in utter stillness and much earlier opening of the eyes each day. I can see why, for an advanced practitioner, these retreats could be very transformative. Yet when we are with a broken heart, carrying a lot of psychic tension and unfamiliar childhood pain they are perhaps not the kindest choice.
Instead, I find the methods and teachings of Hridaya to be hugely profound and deeply moving. Much more yin in their energy (later waking, in-person teachings centered around the heart, permission to move during meditation, hatha yoga infused into each day), these retreats into the cave of the heart urge us not just to find stillness of the mind but to go beyond and gently inquire into our true nature. The focus is not simply on concentration but on really questioning the truth of certain sufferings that we are experiencing. The more we can embrace and then move past the identification with these sufferings the more possible it is to find ourselves in states of deep peace, nervous system relaxed and sattvic state slowly restored.
This is something that sages from all over have long taught. One of the most foundational teachings of Buddhism is the Four Noble Truths. Suffering is our reality; its root is often our clinging; we can be freed from the suffering and there is a way in which to do so. When we sit in silence we are better able to see the things in our lives and our mindsets that are causing us to suffer and we begin to (without effort) gain insights on how to reveal the taste of that freedom the Buddha pointed towards.
And for Ramana Maharshi - the main spiritual figure of Hridaya - it is no different. His teachings guide us to question “Who suffers? // To whom does this pain belong?” With this we begin to appreciate that pain or any intense emotion is somewhat about a mistaken identity - the habit of taking the body, mind, and story as “I.” When that “I” is believed to be true, then pleasure and pain get welded to selfhood, making everything feel amplified inside.
Instead, if, whilst sitting, we trace that “I” thought back to its owner through self-inquiry (ātma-vichāra), the individual sense of “I” slowly begins to subside and something deeper - free of attachment - begins to shine through.
Truth.
Ramana absolutely is not teaching us numbness. In fact, he explicitly says insensibility to pain or avoidance of suffering is anything but wisdom. He is looking for a much subtler shift; the pain itself might still feel present but the story of “I am suffering” loosens a little; a disidentification takes place. A self-inquiry flow could look something like:
A feeling arises (grief, fear, shame, anger, anxiety)
You ask: To whom has this arisen?
The answer appears something like: “To me”
Then you ask: “Who am I?”
Not to get a verbal answer, but to turn attention back to the raw sense of “I” and stay there…
If thoughts keep popping up, treat each one the same: “Who am I?” (keep going back to a sense of source)
The question itself is a finger that points to the moon; a mere point of inquiry to shatter illusion rather than something that is demanding a logical answer
Eight Days Inside the Cave
And that is exactly what I was able to experience. These teachings are no longer ideas to me, they have slowly started to become something I can feel directly. With gusty winds blowing Meribelle blossom like a whirling dirvish into the cold spring air outside, I sat sheltered in a wooden beamed hall next to 24 other souls for eight days of quiet. With eye-mask on to help me go inwards and be less distracted by stimulation, cosy sheep-skin rug under my feet and a zillion layers, I felt like a nesting duck tucked up without expectations of what might be waiting to emerge.
Days were simplified. Nourishing meals prepared. Gong waking us and directing us to the different punctuations of the day. Clothing repeated. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Nothing to be. I wrote a few poems and captured a few insights but otherwise there was little output. I moved slowly and ate slowly and breathed deeply. Many meditations were anything but still - old and more recent memories charging through me simply asking to be witnessed. I’d (internally) utter to myself ‘forgiven, forgiven, forgiven’. It was as though a deep purification wanted to, and did indeed, happen. Others carried such a profound depth of peace and sense of being held that it can only be described as love. Body weightless, mind resting, heart vibrating its inherent spanda. To be reminded that this state of love is always available to me, no matter what is happening externally, feels the same as what a swallow must as it takes flight for Scotland from Africa. Trusting, grounded, expansive.
“Silence is the voice of the mystery. Silence lets us dream again.” ~ John O’Donohue
Listening to the Whisper Within
Ayurveda teaches that when the mind is quiet, we can better hear the whispers of our soul - both in terms of the things we actually need to live in harmony as well as to sense into this depth of peace. Meditation, together with the mind-body unifying practice of yoga, bring us in touch with our spirit again. They enable us to listen within, to cultivate a deeper intuition and with this help us to heal our lives. Because sometimes logic alone doesn’t work. We might understand that it makes sense to make changes to our lives, but our sensory desires are often too strong to contend with. Learning how to effectively listen to these whispers within us is one of the most empowering gifts we can give ourselves and choosing to experience a micro-chapter of life in silence can help us learn this mysterious art.
Personally, I left the retreat with greater acceptance, with more clarity and with an open heart. It is always a risk post a break-up to want to guard and protect ourselves and yet there is so much wisdom in choosing to live life from a place of openness and love. It is not a case of choosing love over fear, but choosing love again and again whilst allowing whatever else arises to be there too. My whole body felt more spacious and my mind undoubtedly much less busy or self-critical. It is as though I reminded myself that I am the sun, that I shine in spite of sufferings, that we all can shine. And perhaps silence is what helps us remember this - that beneath the noise, beneath the fear, something steady and luminous has always been there.
If you’re intrigued to know more about the power of silence, I would recommend this short teaching by Tara Brach and meditation by her on the same.
With peace, Tash x
What’s been sparking my curiosity?
Hearing: a quietened mind; the sound of ‘nada’, of the subtler aspects of existence. A vibrational field within me that is always there beneath the waves.
Seeing: the inside of my eye-mask; the world from a slight perspective - a narrowed view to support introspection, and with this, witnessing my thoughts and my being in an utterly different way.
Tasting: warmed meals in silence. Each mouthful with more depth, heightened texture, an elongated journey of flavour. The same food just met with a different degree of attention.
Smelling: the intoxicating blossom of a Meribelle tree in full bloom; honeybees dancing around my head, gentle sun warming my existence.
Touching: peace - in the blades of grass; in the opening of the frosty greenhouse door; in the weight of my oversized mug; in the depth of my heart, middle of the chest slightly to the right.
Feeling: myself and my emotions from the inside out. Instead of dwelling in what one is supposed to feel, really sensing what is alive for me in all its magnitude and allowing the tears to flow.
“So much of our modern talk is like a spider weaving a web of language maniacally outside itself. There is so little patience for the silence from which words emerge or for the silence that is between words and within them. When we forget or neglect this silence, we empty our world of its secret and subtle presences” ~ John O’Donohue
Thanks for reading Tash’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
