A Kinder Way with Anabell Ciuffardi

04/30/2026

04/23/2026

A gentle practice that creates more spaciousness in our mind and softens the grip of the mind.

Learn to let thoughts pass without being carried away. This exercise — offered by psychologist Pavel Somov — is what I think of as training wheels for the mind. A gentle, embodied way of practicing allowing before we move into the stillness of breath meditation.

Each time a thought arises — a mental image, a sensation, a feeling — you mark a small dot on the page. Not to capture the thought. Not to analyze it. Simply to acknowledge it. To say: I see you. You are here. And then return to the breath.

The dot discharges the thought’s energy. The hand does what the mind would otherwise do — reaches toward the thought — and in that small, grounded movement, the impulse finds somewhere to land that is not a reaction, not a story, not a spiral. Simply a mark on a page. And then — stillness. The breath. The space between.

Set a timer for five or ten minutes. Have a piece of paper and a pen nearby.

Notice your breath. And each time you become aware of a new thought — a mental image, a sensation, a feeling — mark a small dot on the page. Then return to the breath.

Watch the mind flow. Notice how each thought comes and passes — like clouds in the sky. You are not the clouds. You are the sky.

04/22/2026

Allowing is not something we arrive at once and keep forever. Like the breath itself, it is something we return to — again and again — each time the mind reaches for a thought and we choose, just for a moment, not to follow it. At first this can feel strange. Almost counterintuitive. We are so practiced at engaging with every thought that arrives, so accustomed to the mind's restless reaching, that simply letting something be here without acting on it can feel like doing nothing at all. But it is not nothing. It is one of the most quietly radical things we can practice. Because in that moment of allowing — in that small, courageous pause — something begins to shift. The grip of the story loosens. The thought loses a little of its urgency. And we discover, perhaps for the first time, that we have a choice.

That choice lives in the gap — the space between the thought arising and our response to it. It is a small space. Sometimes just a breath wide. But it is enough. Enough to notice. Enough to ask — is this thought asking me to react, or simply asking to be seen? Enough to feel the difference between being inside the story and being the one who is watching it. This gap does not come from forcing anything. It comes from practice. From the patient, repeated act of returning — to the breath, to the body, to the quiet awareness that has been here all along beneath the noise. The more we practice returning, the wider that gap becomes. And the wider it becomes, the more room there is for something other than reaction. For kindness. For clarity. For the kind of response that comes not from fear or habit — but from genuine presence.

What we discover in the space between — when we finally stop rushing through it — is not emptiness. It is home. A stillness that belongs to us. A steadiness that does not depend on the thoughts being quiet or the circumstances being easy. It is simply here — available in any moment we choose to turn toward it. This is what allowing opens. Not a perfect mind. Not the absence of difficulty. But a different relationship to what is here — one that is a little more spacious, a little more gentle, a little more free. And that — practiced day by day, breath by breath, return by return — is how a kinder life is built. Not all at once. Slowly. The way all real things grow.

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Join me tomorrow evening for our live A Kinder Way class on Zoom — where we will sit together in meditation, explore the practice of allowing through a short reading, and move into a creative expression of what the space between feels like for you.

Come as you are. Bring a journal if you like. 💛

April 23 | Thursday at 7:30pm EST
Zoom Link: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/83473291106

04/22/2026

Pachamama // Mother Earth

04/20/2026

Have you ever watched the sky on a day when clouds move quickly? One arrives — full and present — and then, almost before you have named it, it has already begun to dissolve. Another comes. And another. And beneath all of them, the sky itself remains. Unchanged. Unhurried. Simply there.

This is what the mind is like. Thoughts arise — a worry, a memory, a plan, a feeling — each one vivid and immediate, each one seeming for a moment like the whole of things. And yet each one passes. Dissolves back into the stillness from which it came. The thoughts are not the problem. Our relationship to them is.

We have learned, most of us, to follow every thought that arises. To grab hold of it, turn it over, argue with it or agree with it or build an entire story from it. We have learned that a thought appearing means something must be done. That the mind speaking means the mind must be answered.

But what if there was another way?

continue >> Substack. https://open.substack.com/pub/anabellciuffardi/p/the-space-between?r=5lud8a&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

04/06/2026

An invitation to meet yourself with compassionate awareness

03/29/2026

An invitation to trust that every step leaves its mark…
There are seasons when, if we grow quiet enough, we can actually feel ourselves changing. Not in the dramatic way we might expect — not with noise or announcement — but in the subtle, unhurried way that nature moves. Like watching something bloom right in front of you. Slow. Quiet. And full of a gratitude that arrives all on its own, without being summoned.

These are the moments worth pausing for. Worth sitting with. Because within them lives something rare: the chance to witness ourselves, to learn from our own unfolding while it is still happening.

When we go through moments of change, uncertainty is often the first thing we feel. But what we may not yet see is that all the inner work we have ever done — every practice, every hard conversation with ourselves, every moment we chose to stay present instead of running — has been quietly gathering.

🌿Continue to read below ↓

Words + Reflection | Becoming: An invitation to unfold at your own rhythm

03/27/2026

What would change in your life if you spoke to yourself with the same kindness you express to a friend?