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In this week’s Q&A episode of Sit, Walk, Work, someone asked a question I hear all the time:
“When my practice extends beyond 15 or 20 minutes, my body starts hurting. Is that normal?”
Short answer: yes.
Long answer: It’s an invitation.
When we sit still longer than we’re used to, the body does exactly what a child does when we suddenly give them our undivided attention—it dumps everything it’s been holding. A little ache behind the knee, a pull in the low back, a buzzing in the hands… suddenly all of it wants to be heard.
For years, I thought this meant I was “doing it wrong.” But now I see it as part of the practice. When the body gets loud, it’s not punishing us—it’s communicating.
The Three-Times Rule
I shared a simple guideline I learned from Jack Kornfield:
When discomfort arises, don’t move immediately. Notice it. Breathe. See if it settles.
If it pulls your attention again, stay with it a second time.
If it returns a third time, that’s your cue—you adjust. You shift. You offer relief.
This approach allows us to honor the body without reacting reflexively.
It teaches us the difference between pain and discomfort, between harm and habit.
Where This Shows Up Beyond the Cushion
The beauty of practice is that it never stays on the cushion.
That tightness you feel in meditation?
It’s the same tightness you feel gripping the wheel in traffic when someone cuts you off.
The same flinch in your chest when your partner says something sharp.
The same restlessness you feel at your desk at 3 p.m., when your focus evaporates and everything in you wants to escape.
The three-times rule works there, too.
When irritation spikes in traffic:
* Notice the flare.
* See if it settles with a breath.
* If it returns, adjust—relax your shoulders, soften your jaw, widen your view.
When a conversation gets tense:
* Feel the contraction.
* Stay with it.
* If it persists, shift—slow the breath, ask for a pause, step away kindly.
When your body aches during work:
* Observe the discomfort.
* Give it a moment.
* If it keeps returning, stand, stretch, reset.
Our practice doesn’t make life painless.
It makes us capable of responding with precision rather than panic.
A Body That Speaks Is a Body That Trusts You
Something tender happens when we stop treating discomfort as an enemy.
The body stops shouting.
The tantrums soften.
The mind steadies.
Even after years of practice, I still have days where I can’t sit still—hands fidgeting, legs bouncing, attention slipping. I remind myself: nothing is wrong. This is just another stage of paying attention.
Thanks for being here for this Q&A episode.
Thanks for listening deeply—to my words, to your body, to your life.
With Metta, may you be well.
Let’s Reflect Together
* What part of your body gets loud first when you sit longer than usual?
* Where in your daily life (traffic, work, relationships) do you notice “discomfort signals” appear repeatedly?
* How do you usually respond to physical or emotional discomfort—reactively or with curiosity?
Share your reflections in the comments—I’d love to hear how impermance is alive in your practice.
Follow me on all the socials
* Substack
* Website
* YouTube
By Dominic StanleyIn this week’s Q&A episode of Sit, Walk, Work, someone asked a question I hear all the time:
“When my practice extends beyond 15 or 20 minutes, my body starts hurting. Is that normal?”
Short answer: yes.
Long answer: It’s an invitation.
When we sit still longer than we’re used to, the body does exactly what a child does when we suddenly give them our undivided attention—it dumps everything it’s been holding. A little ache behind the knee, a pull in the low back, a buzzing in the hands… suddenly all of it wants to be heard.
For years, I thought this meant I was “doing it wrong.” But now I see it as part of the practice. When the body gets loud, it’s not punishing us—it’s communicating.
The Three-Times Rule
I shared a simple guideline I learned from Jack Kornfield:
When discomfort arises, don’t move immediately. Notice it. Breathe. See if it settles.
If it pulls your attention again, stay with it a second time.
If it returns a third time, that’s your cue—you adjust. You shift. You offer relief.
This approach allows us to honor the body without reacting reflexively.
It teaches us the difference between pain and discomfort, between harm and habit.
Where This Shows Up Beyond the Cushion
The beauty of practice is that it never stays on the cushion.
That tightness you feel in meditation?
It’s the same tightness you feel gripping the wheel in traffic when someone cuts you off.
The same flinch in your chest when your partner says something sharp.
The same restlessness you feel at your desk at 3 p.m., when your focus evaporates and everything in you wants to escape.
The three-times rule works there, too.
When irritation spikes in traffic:
* Notice the flare.
* See if it settles with a breath.
* If it returns, adjust—relax your shoulders, soften your jaw, widen your view.
When a conversation gets tense:
* Feel the contraction.
* Stay with it.
* If it persists, shift—slow the breath, ask for a pause, step away kindly.
When your body aches during work:
* Observe the discomfort.
* Give it a moment.
* If it keeps returning, stand, stretch, reset.
Our practice doesn’t make life painless.
It makes us capable of responding with precision rather than panic.
A Body That Speaks Is a Body That Trusts You
Something tender happens when we stop treating discomfort as an enemy.
The body stops shouting.
The tantrums soften.
The mind steadies.
Even after years of practice, I still have days where I can’t sit still—hands fidgeting, legs bouncing, attention slipping. I remind myself: nothing is wrong. This is just another stage of paying attention.
Thanks for being here for this Q&A episode.
Thanks for listening deeply—to my words, to your body, to your life.
With Metta, may you be well.
Let’s Reflect Together
* What part of your body gets loud first when you sit longer than usual?
* Where in your daily life (traffic, work, relationships) do you notice “discomfort signals” appear repeatedly?
* How do you usually respond to physical or emotional discomfort—reactively or with curiosity?
Share your reflections in the comments—I’d love to hear how impermance is alive in your practice.
Follow me on all the socials
* Substack
* Website
* YouTube