Thoughts can often pull us out of the present. Learn to relate to your thoughts differently by observing them as clouds passing in the vast sky of your awareness. This meditation helps you detach from mental chatter and return to the quiet space of now.
Let’s begin. Find a posture that feels both settled and alert. Your body, a quiet anchor in this present moment. Close your eyes, or soften your gaze to the floor before you. Take a slow, deep breath in. And as you release it, let go of the rush that brought you here. Let go of the schedule, the list, the noise of the day. Breathe in again, and feel the air fill your lungs. A simple, vital act. Breathe out, and feel your body settle. A quiet returning. Now, bring your awareness to the space around you. The feeling of the air on your skin. The distant, muted sounds that reach your ears. The feeling of the ground, solid and steady, holding you up. You are right here. In this moment. Safe, and held. I want you to imagine, just for a moment, that your mind is like a vast, open sky. Limitless, boundless, and clear. It stretches from horizon to horizon, endlessly deep, endlessly wide. This sky is the very nature of your awareness. It is not something you have to create; it is what you already are. It is the silent, watchful space in which everything happens. Feel into that sense of inner spaciousness. A stillness that is always available, just beneath the surface of your daily life. It is patient. It is calm. It is fundamentally okay. This is the sky of your mind. And for the next few moments, we will simply rest here, together, in this open, peaceful expanse.
Now, as you rest in this awareness, you will inevitably notice thoughts. They will appear. This is what minds do. For this practice, we are not going to fight them. We will not try to stop them, or push them away, or even analyze them. Instead, we will change our relationship to them entirely. Imagine each thought as a cloud drifting across that vast, blue sky of your mind. Some thoughts are like light, wispy cirrus clouds, barely there. A fleeting memory, a random image, a single word. See it appear in the distance, float gently across your awareness, and dissolve back into the stillness from which it came. You don’t have to climb onto the cloud. You don’t have to become the cloud. You are the sky, simply watching. Other thoughts might feel heavier. Darker. Like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. A worry about the future. A regret from the past. A judgment about yourself or someone else. These clouds can feel immense, powerful, all-consuming. They can block out the sun and cast long shadows. When these appear, the invitation is the same. Watch them. Notice their texture, their shape, their color. Feel the emotional charge they carry without getting swept up in the storm. The sky does not fight the storm cloud. It simply holds it. It allows it to be there, knowing that it, too, is temporary. It, too, will pass. You are the sky, and the storm is just a weather pattern moving through. It is not you. It is an event *in* you. Practice this now. Let the thoughts come as they will. A quick, passing thought… watch it go. A heavy, lingering worry… let it be held in the vastness of your awareness. No thought is a problem. No cloud can harm the sky.
Do you feel the pull? The instinct to grab onto a thought? Perhaps a “good” idea appears, and you immediately want to follow it, plan it out, turn it into action. See that desire as just another cloud. Let the brilliant idea float by. It will return if it is important. Or perhaps a difficult, painful thought arises, and the immediate habit is to push it down, to distract yourself, to run away. See that resistance. See that aversion. And let that be a cloud, too. The work here is a gentle *not-doing*. A radical allowing. You are stepping back and witnessing the automatic habits of your own mind. This is the practice of what some call cognitive defusion—the simple, profound act of seeing your thoughts as thoughts, not as absolute truths. Not as commands you must obey, but as passing mental events. You are not what your thoughts say you are. You are the space that notices them. Let’s try a simple labeling. As a thought-cloud enters your awareness, you might silently and gently name it. "Worrying." "Planning." "Remembering." "Judging." The label isn't for analysis. It’s a tool of recognition. It helps you see the thought for what it is—a process, a pattern—rather than getting lost in its content. It’s like a meteorologist naming the type of cloud passing overhead. "Ah, there is a cumulus." You acknowledge it, and then you let it drift on. This creates space. A little bit of freedom between you, the observer, and the thought, the observed. In that space, there is peace. In that space, there is choice. Continue for a few more moments. Breathing in, resting as the sky. Breathing out, allowing the clouds to pass. There is nothing to fix. There is nowhere to go. There is only this practice of being the vast, open, witnessing presence.
As we prepare to bring this practice to a close, understand that the sky is always with you. It is not a state you must achieve only in quiet meditation. It is your fundamental nature. The clouds of thought will always come and go. The weather of your mind will constantly change. There will be sunny days, and there will be storms. This is the nature of life. But you can learn to stop living your life as if you are a fragile kite tossed in the wind, and start identifying with the vast, stable, unshakable sky that holds it all. When you are in a difficult conversation, can you remember you are the sky? Can you see your defensive thoughts as storm clouds, and let them pass without being carried away by them? When you feel a surge of anxiety or a wave of sadness, can you remember you are the sky? Can you allow that emotional weather to move through you, knowing that your essential nature is spacious and unharmed? This is not about ignoring your thoughts or pretending your feelings don’t exist. It is about holding them with a wiser, kinder, and more spacious awareness. It is about knowing that you are bigger than any single thought, any single mood, any single story you tell yourself. Take one final, deep breath in, filling yourself with this sense of inner space. And as you breathe out, slowly bring your awareness back to your body in the chair. Back to the feeling of the air in the room. Back to the sounds around you. When you are ready, gently open your eyes, returning to the world. Carry this with you: You are not the cloud. You are the sky. Live from that place. Walk from that place. Meet your life from that place of quiet, open, boundless awareness. The weather will change. The sky remains.