How to Meet Uncertainty with Courage

Headspace Studios. Hello, welcome to Radio Headspace. It's Dora here. So here's the thing about uncertainty. It can feel awful. It's not romantic. It's not poetic. It's not a peaceful pause. It's sweaty palm, shallow breathing, a nervous system that keeps scanning for safety because we're wired to want to know, to make a plan, to predict what's next. And when we can't, we feel lost. There was a time in my life where I kept trying to meditate my way out of that discomfort, to get calm so I could solve it. But then, I came across a meditation that did something completely different. It didn't ask me to fix the feeling, it asked me to turn towards it, and that changed everything. We're taught that the way to feel better is to get away from what hurts. But sometimes healing begins when we turn toward the very thing we've been avoiding. Because what if that feeling isn't the problem? What if it's the doorway? Early on in the pandemic, I did a virtual meditation retreat. To make it work, I cleared space in my little apartment, set up a schedule, and showed up every day. The world outside felt like it was unraveling, but inside I was trying to stay present. The retreat theme was being with what is, which sounded poetic in theory until it meant sitting for long stretches with everything that felt unknown. I didn't know what was next for my work. I didn't know when I'd see my family again. I didn't know how long the world would feel this unstable. And the silence wasn't soothing. It was loud. My thoughts raced, my chest tightened. Every sit felt like I was watching the same storm cloud roll in over and over again. At one point during a guided session, the teacher invited us to place a hand over our heart, not to calm anything down, but just to acknowledge what was true. I remember how strange that felt. No mantra, no goal. Just be with it. So I did. I sat there hand to heart, breath unsteady, and whispered to myself, "This is hard and you don't have to make it go away." Nothing magical happened in that moment, but I didn't abandon myself. And that changed everything because the practice wasn't about transcending the discomfort. It was about meeting it, not running from the frough, but learning how to see in low light. And I realized maybe clarity isn't the absence of uncertainty. Maybe it's what rises when we stop fighting it. So if you're in a moment that feels unclear, where nothing seems settled, and every option feels out of reach, pause. Not to fix it and not to push through it, but to notice what's here. Place a hand over the part of your body where the tension lives, your chest, your stomach, your throat, and just stay. No script and no expectation, just a gentle presence that says, "This is...