Hello lovely people,

“Be conscious of how much you speak, why you speak and the energy behind your words.”

When I heard a Swami say this years ago in India, it felt like one of the most profound things I had ever heard. So simple, really. But the more I thought about it, the more meaning I found in it.

In a world where everything goes faster and faster, we seem to speak, reply and react almost without stopping. A message arrives, we answer. Someone says something we disagree with, we are already preparing our response before they have finished. We say yes when we are tired. We promise something, then realise we have no time to do it.

In Ayurveda, this speed and constant movement remind me of the qualities of Vata. And sometimes, I feel we have become so used to this rhythm that we barely notice it anymore.

I remember when I did Vipassana. After ten days in silence, it felt pretty amazing to be able to speak to others again. Each word seemed so important. And it felt so weird to hear the sound of my own voice!

After that much silence, even an ordinary conversation felt different. We spend so much time wanting to be heard that we can forget what a privilege it is to communicate at all.

Of course, ten days of silence is quite a commitment and not sure it is for everyone…!

But I do wonder what we might notice if we left a little more space around our words on a daily basis.

When words become just words

How many times have you felt disappointed because someone did not follow through on what they said?

“I’ll call you.”

“I’ll help you with that.”

“Yes, let’s definitely organise something.”

And then… nothing.

I suppose this is why “actions speak louder than words” feels so familiar. We want to know that what someone says has meaning. That we can trust it.

Yet we can also make promises to ourselves without really listening to them.

“I’ll rest this weekend.”

“I’ll stop checking my phone before bed.”

“Next week, I’ll make more time for myself.”

Sometimes we mean these things sincerely. We simply get caught up again. There is another task, another message, another reason why our own needs can wait.

Conscious speech invites us to pause a little earlier. Do I mean what I am saying? Is this something I can actually do? Am I saying yes because I want to, or because I feel uncomfortable saying no?

And then there is another conversation worth listening to: the one happening inside our heads.

The conversation nobody else hears

“I’m so stupid.”

“Why does this always happen to me?”

“I’m just not lucky.”

We might say these things casually, almost as a joke. Or they might arrive quietly after a mistake, a disappointment, or a day that went nothing like we hoped.

What interests me is how quickly we accept them.

If someone else announced that we were incapable of doing anything properly, we might have a few questions. When the same comment comes from inside our own head, we can treat it as a reliable assessment.

Apparently, being familiar with us is enough to qualify that voice as an expert.

But is it accurate?

There is a difference between forgetting something and being stupid. Between having a difficult conversation and being impossible to love. Between facing a setback and deciding that nothing ever works out.

A recent podcast about conscious speech brought me back to the Swami’s words. One point that stayed with me was how easily we use absolute language: “always”, “never”, “everything”, “nothing”.

“I always get it wrong.”

“Nobody understands.”

“Nothing is changing.”

These words can make a painful moment feel like the whole story.

Perhaps “nobody understands” means, “I have not felt understood in the conversations I have had recently.”

That is still difficult. But it leaves open the possibility of a different conversation, with a different person.

When your period has become a daily question

If you are navigating hypothalamic amenorrhea, or HA, you may recognise how quickly this inner conversation can take over.

You are trying to make changes. You may be eating more, reducing exercise, resting more, and questioning habits that once felt completely normal.

Some of those changes can feel frightening, even when you understand why they matter.

Then another month passes.

You notice your body changing. You read about someone whose period returned sooner than yours. You wonder whether you have missed something.

“I’m getting fat.”

“I will never get my period back.”

“I should be further along by now.”

It is possible to put a lot of effort into supporting your body while speaking to yourself quite harshly throughout the process.

And that can feel terribly lonely.

I would never want to answer those feelings with “Just be positive.” Most of us have already been told to relax at some point, usually by someone who has then carried on with their afternoon while we remain exactly as worried as before.

Instead, I wonder whether we could become more curious about what those sentences are trying to express.

When you say, “I’m getting fat,” are you frightened by a changing body? Worried about other people’s comments? Missing the reassurance that came from following familiar rules?

When you say, “I’ll never recover,” are you exhausted by uncertainty? Do you need clearer guidance? Are you tired of trying to reassure yourself alone?

These are things we can begin to talk about.

“My body is changing, and I’m finding that difficult.”

“I’m frightened because I don’t know when my period will return.”

“I need more support with this than I thought.”

You can be honest about struggling without making yourself the problem.

A little more sattva in a messy life

We often hear about a sattvic lifestyle through food, routines, meditation and the environment around us. In yogic and Ayurvedic traditions, sattva is associated with clarity, balance and harmony.

It sounds lovely. It can also sound slightly far away when your day is already busy and you have answered three messages before getting out of bed.

But this is why I like bringing the idea into speech. It gives us somewhere ordinary to begin.

Could I answer a little more thoughtfully?

Could I admit that I need time to think?

Could I speak to myself with the same consideration I would offer someone sitting in front of me?

A sattvic approach does not require every conversation to sound serene. You are allowed to disagree, feel disappointed and tell someone that something hurt you.

Clarity can sometimes mean having the conversation you have been avoiding.

This brings me to two yogic principles I often return to: Satya, truthfulness, and Ahimsa, non-harming.

Together, they invite an interesting question: can I be honest without being unnecessarily hurtful?

Including towards myself.

“I am uncomfortable in my body today” expresses a feeling.

“My body is disgusting” turns that feeling into an attack.

“I’m finding these changes difficult” gives us something to understand.

“I’m failing at recovery” closes the conversation with a verdict.

We can question that verdict. There is no requirement to accept it simply because our mind delivered it confidently.

Louise Hay, a mirror, and a different conversation

A couple of years ago, I discovered Louise Hay and her work with affirmations. I became particularly interested in her mirror exercise: looking into your own eyes and speaking to yourself with kindness.

I practised it for a couple of weeks, and I found it transformative.

Think about the way we usually approach a mirror.

We check our hair. Our skin. Our clothes. We turn sideways. We notice something we would like to change.

The mirror has barely had time to reflect us before we have started the inspection.

Mirror work offers a different use for those few moments. You look at yourself and say something supportive.

If you would like to try it, you could begin with:

“I’m willing to be kinder to myself.”

Or:

“I’m having a difficult time, and I deserve care.”

Those are my suggestions, inspired by the practice. Choose words that feel sincere to you.

There is no need to announce that everything is wonderful when you are clearly having a miserable day. Your mind may have some fairly immediate objections.

A sentence such as “I can get through this afternoon with a little more care” might be easier to work with.

And if looking in the mirror feels uncomfortable, write the words down, or say them quietly while sitting somewhere you feel at ease.

I also want to be clear about something: affirmations do not give us control over everything that happens. If your period has not returned, you have not failed to think positively enough.

The invitation here is to make the experience less lonely and punishing, rather than give yourself another recovery task to complete perfectly.

Being kind does not mean saying yes

Conscious speech also matters in the way we explain our needs to others.

Perhaps you are changing your exercise routine and someone keeps asking when you will be “back to normal”.

Perhaps a family member comments on your portions.

Perhaps your partner wants to help, but every conversation ends with a new suggestion when what you really wanted was someone to listen.

It can be difficult to speak clearly when you are already feeling vulnerable. We may soften the message so much that the actual need disappears.

“Sorry, I’m probably being silly, and I know you don’t mean anything by it, but…”

By this point, we have almost apologised for having the conversation.

Could we try something simpler?

“I would appreciate it if we didn’t discuss my weight.”

“I’m adjusting my routine to support my health. I need you to respect that.”

“I know you want to help. Today, could you listen without trying to solve it?”

These sentences can be kind and firm at the same time.

Of course, finding the right words will not make every person respond beautifully. We remain in the world of human relationships, where other people occasionally insist on having their own reactions.

But we can give them a clearer understanding of what we need.

And we can hear ourselves taking those needs seriously.

Listening before preparing the next answer

Communication includes listening.

Sometimes we hear the beginning of a sentence and already know what we want to say. We are offering advice, defending ourselves, or remembering a similar experience before the other person has reached their point.

I wonder how different some conversations might feel if we allowed ourselves to be a little slower.

The same question applies internally.

When you feel tired, do you listen or immediately explain why you cannot be tired yet?

When something upsets you, do you ask what happened or tell yourself that you are being too sensitive?

There can be useful information in an uncomfortable feeling. We do not need to obey every thought, but we can take an interest in what is happening.

This is one way I understand Svadhyaya, self-study: becoming familiar with our patterns without using every discovery as further evidence against ourselves.

We are studying a human being. There will be a few inconsistencies.

A small practice for this week

Over the next few days, notice one sentence that returns when you feel frustrated, worried or uncomfortable.

Just one. We do not need a spreadsheet of everything unkind we have ever thought.

Write it down, then give yourself a moment to consider:

“I’m failing at everything” might become, “I’m overwhelmed, and I need to decide what can wait.”

“I will never get my period back” might become, “Waiting is frightening, and I need support while I continue with my care.”

Then see whether there is an action that belongs alongside those words. Asking for help. Making space for a meal. Having a conversation. Following up with your healthcare team.

The words become more meaningful when we allow them to influence how we care for ourselves.

Before speaking to someone else, you might also try the questions :

Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? Is this the right moment, and the right person?

I suspect most of us could find plenty to practise there. Myself included.

Years after hearing that Swami in India, I am still thinking about his sentence. Especially the energy behind our words: what we bring into a conversation, what we hope to receive, and what we leave ourselves feeling afterwards.

Perhaps a little more sattva can begin in those ordinary moments. In a clearer answer, an honest boundary, or a thought we decide to question before repeating it again.

And perhaps we can practise without expecting to become perfectly wise by Monday.

What is one sentence you often say to yourself that you would like to soften?

You are very welcome to reply and tell me. I would love to hear from you.

With love,
Audrey

A little more reading, if you have a quiet moment

In Ayurveda Is Not a List of Rules. It Is a Way of Knowing Yourself, I explore how self-observation can help us understand our individual needs without making wellbeing unnecessarily complicated.

And in What Changes Before and After You Step on the Mat?, I reflect on how movement, breathing and meditation can influence the way we meet what is happening within us.

You can also visit Tejasvi Yoga Audrey to explore my work, resources and ways we can connect.

Keep smiling, keep giving love to yourself and others and as always, practice happy!