Stories, Stress, and the Courage to Choose Discernment
Yung Pueblo says that the mind is always looking for something to grab onto — a sensation, a fear, a gap in information — and from that grasping, it begins to weave stories. And if we are not observing ourselves, those stories can become the foundation of our stress.
I have lived this truth intimately over the past week.
Stress, I’m learning, is not just about the situation itself. It’s about the moment I stop accepting reality as it is and start swimming in the craving, the discomfort, or the negativity that I’m holding onto. Stress pulls me out of the present moment and into a realm of imagined outcomes, half‑truths, and emotional echoes. It ties itself to a sensation in the body — tightness in the chest, a knot in the stomach — and suddenly the mind begins to build a narrative around that feeling.
And the mind loves a narrative.
As I continue charting a course for the young women in the NiNa Program, I’ve noticed how quickly my mind can create stories when things feel uncertain or out of my control. When information is incomplete, when timelines shift, when I’m sitting in discomfort — the mind rushes in with its own interpretation. It fills the gaps with assumptions, fears, and old patterns. It tells me what might happen, what could go wrong, what someone might be thinking.
But this is distinctly different from discernment.
This is not intuition.
This is not truth.
This is the unobserved mind grabbing onto whatever it can find.
And decisions made from that place — from story rather than observation — have a particular flavor. They are impulsive. They are short‑term. They are rooted in fear. They create worry rather than wisdom. They pull me into urgency instead of alignment.
Discernment, on the other hand, asks for something deeper.
Discernment requires patience.
It requires trust of Self.
It requires the courage to go against the status quo, to move slowly when everything around you is moving fast, to listen inwardly even when external voices are loud.
Both paths — story and discernment — are uncomfortable.
But one brings stress.
The other brings detachment.
One tightens the body.
The other softens it.
One pulls me into loops.
The other brings me back to center.
So the question I am now asking myself is this:
How do I consistently make decisions without the stress and the stories my mind creates?
I am learning that the answer lies in observation — in training the mind to witness rather than react. When I intentionally observe myself, I begin to see that not every story is valid. I begin to see how emotion can distort reality. I begin to see the difference between a fear‑based narrative and an intuitive knowing.
Observation creates space.
Space creates clarity.
Clarity creates discernment.
And discernment, when practiced consistently, becomes a form of self‑trust.
This week has reminded me that leadership — especially leadership rooted in healing, empowerment, and transformation — requires inner discipline. It requires the willingness to pause before acting, to breathe before deciding, to check whether the mind is grabbing onto a story or whether the soul is offering guidance.
I am choosing, slowly and intentionally, to make decisions from the place that brings detachment rather than stress.
From the place that honors truth rather than fear.
From the place that trusts the unfolding rather than tries to control it.
This is the practice.
This is the work.
This is the path.
Peace and Blessings
A Call to The Rooted Series
And if you’re reading this and something in you is whispering, “Yes… I want this too. I want to return to myself,” then I want to invite you into Rooted.
Rooted is the space where we practice this work together — the unlearning, the softening, the truth‑telling, the remembering.
It’s where we take off the masks we’ve outgrown and step into the woman we’ve been becoming quietly, patiently, beneath the surface.
If June is your month of authenticity too…
If you’re ready to stop shrinking and start showing up whole…
If you’re craving real connection, real clarity, real grounding…
Then come sit with us in this circle.
Bring your journal.
Bring your heart.
Bring the parts of you you’ve been hiding.
We begin again July 2026 — and I would love to have you there, rising in your own truth.