Meditation Was Just ‘Quiet Time’—Until It Cracked Me Wide Open

How stillness brought me Divine connection, healing, peace after my father’s passing, and a deeper relationship with my daughter.

I had it so wrong.

I used to think meditation was something you did to get a little peace and quiet. A way to escape the noise, to catch your breath when the world felt too loud. And in the beginning, that’s exactly what it was for me.

I’d listen to guided meditations and do my best to follow their guidance—even if most of what they said went over my head. I tried to silence my thoughts, but it was hard. The tasks, the worries, the to-do lists all interrupted the stillness I was seeking.

Meditating felt like a surface-level practice to me. Something “nice” that people recommended. But still—I stuck with it.

And slowly, things began to shift.

At first, I noticed I could go longer without being interrupted by thought. The silences grew. The words in the meditations started to resonate. And then something happened: I began to transcend the physical space around me.

I could no longer feel the floor beneath me. Instead, I felt flooded—swarmed—by love-filled energy. It rushed through me and around me. I wasn’t just sitting anymore. I was aware. Deeply aware.

Aware of the answers to questions I’d long held about life, about our purpose, about how deeply connected we all are—not just to each other but to everything. Organic and man-made.

This energy started speaking to me. Through me. My silence had created stillness, and in that stillness, I could finally hear the messages from the Divine.

And that’s when I realized something: the “God” I grew up hearing about didn’t quite capture what I was now experiencing. That image of a figure in the sky who you’re hoping is listening to your prayers, who might choose to punish you for bad choices? It felt far too small, too cold, and too distant. The Divine is so much bigger. So much more loving.

Eckhart Tolle describes it beautifully (paraphrasing here): just as the light from the sun is still part of the sun, even when it stretches far beyond the flames of its surface, the energy inside of us is still part of the Divine. We are not separate. We are not alone.

My Father’s Passing

This awareness became a gift in one of the most painful seasons of my life: losing my father.

We had a complex relationship. Up and down. Mostly because I didn’t understand things then the way I do now. But even so, he was always loving. Always rooting for me.

After I began meditating regularly and truly becoming present, something beautiful started happening. I began seeing his birthday numbers everywhere—on clocks, receipts, license plates. I took it as a sign. I started reaching out more. We began talking almost every day.

Then came the call from the hospital. His health had taken a sudden turn. We had no idea (not even he knew) that he was suffering from heart disease. Days later, the hospital called and said his organs were failing. I flew down from New York to Georgia.

He waited for me.

He passed away exactly one hour and eleven minutes after I got to the hospital. That detail felt significant—especially because, during the entire drive to the hospital, I kept seeing the number 111 everywhere. It became a thread of connection, a quiet confirmation that the Divine was with me, even in the midst of my pain.

I held his hand in mine. I could feel the Divine guiding me, holding both of us in that sacred moment. The pain was unbearable, but the gratitude ran just as deep. He had been waiting for me.

I was the one who got to whisper that he was deeply loved. That if he was holding on, waiting for forgiveness for any pain his choices may have caused, there was nothing to forgive. I was there to make sure he didn’t feel scared or alone, to make sure he knew how deeply he was loved by all.

It was a privilege to hold his hand as the beeping machines around him signaled he had left us.

I saw clearly the Divine’s love in all of it—in the signs, the timing, and most especially in the chance to say goodbye.

Meditation Changed My Relationship With My Daughter

Stillness also transformed my relationship with my daughter.

As she entered her teen years, we hit a rough patch—one that was hard to swallow after years of being so close. I felt like I had to control things more. Enforce more. But beneath it all, I was letting my ego call the shots.

Meditation helped me see that.

I realized that my need to “correct” or “fix” her behavior came from my own fear, insecurity, and the false belief that I always knew best. I took her reactions personally, instead of recognizing that she was just trying to make sense of her world, her feelings, her identity.

Teenagers have egos too. Loud ones. Unrefined ones. And they’re just as overwhelmed as we are—if not more.

Once I stopped reacting and started being, everything shifted. Our energy shifted. And for the first time in a long time, our dance competition season—the usual hotspot for tension—was joyful, even peaceful. The chaos around us didn’t affect the connection between us.

I no longer tried to control. I guided. I held space. I allowed the Divine to speak through me. And it changed everything.

Final Reflections

What began as a search for a little quiet time turned into a journey back to myself.

Meditation taught me how to listen. Not to my thoughts, but to the deeper wisdom beneath them, and I learned how to bring that wisdom to the surface. Meditation showed me where I needed healing. Where I’d been holding onto shame, fear, or control.

It helped me love myself. Really, see myself.

And now, the Divine speaks to me every day. In signs. In silence. In truth.

If you're struggling to quiet the noise, don’t give up. Keep sitting. Keep breathing. Keep listening. You don’t have to try so hard to hear the Divine. You just have to stop thinking over it.