“Mindfulness is a pause—the space between stimulus and response: that’s where choice lies.” ~Tara Brach
We’ve all been there.
A sharp reply. A snide remark. A moment when we said something that didn’t come from our heart but from somewhere else entirely—a need to be right, to sound smart, to prove a point, to stay in control, or simply to defend ourselves.
What follows is the spinning. The knowing that what was said didn’t align with our soul. The overthinking, the replaying of the moment, the rumination, the regret, the tightening in the chest, the wish we could take it back.
We justify, we rationalize—but deep down, we know those words weren’t true to who we really are. They weren’t true to the part of us that longs to connect.
For many years, I lived in that loop.
I prided myself on being kind, thoughtful, intelligent, articulate, in control. I made every effort to be so. But I was operating from a place filled with expectations and invisible scripts—needing to prove, impress, or protect. I was filling roles: the composed professional, the high achiever, the witty and loyal friend, the perfect daughter and sister, the confident partner, and the ideal mother.
And so, although my words were often considered, they lacked something deeper and essential: heart.
I thought being thoughtful meant thinking more. Planning my responses. Winning debates. But what I didn’t realize was that thinking without presence can become a wall, not a bridge.
It wasn’t until I learned to pause—to breathe—to allow space between stimulus and response, and to use that space to connect within, that I began to understand a different kind of thoughtfulness. A deeper kind: heartfulness.
This is wisdom—not intellectual but embodied. It lives not in the mind, but in the body. In the breath. In the heart.
The Journey Back to the Heart
This shift didn’t happen overnight.
It came slowly as I gave myself permission to pause, to reflect, to grow. I started noticing how my words were shaping my relationships and my experience of life overall. I wanted to feel better. Calmer. More connected. Ruminate less. Regret less. Suffer less. Feel happier, more relaxed, more authentic.
Mindfulness opened that door.
Through meditation, self-inquiry, and contemplative reading, I began to understand the power of being impeccable with my words.
Books like The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz—and its core teaching: be impeccable with your word—resonated deeply. So did the Buddhist teaching on Right Speech, which invites us to ask before speaking: Is this kind? Is this honest? Is this timely? Does it add value?
These questions became my framework.
I would repeat them silently each morning during meditation. I would return to them during conversations, especially the difficult ones. Eventually, they became part of me.
And here’s what I realized: being impeccable with our words isn’t just about avoiding gossip or negativity.
It’s about creating love.
It’s about adding to the world rather than taking from it.
It’s about using words to build, not break.
That meant pausing before I spoke. Feeling into my body. Listening for what was true beneath the surface.
And slowly, my words began to change.
I began to feel the quiet power of responding instead of reacting. I was no longer using my energy to defend or ruminate. Instead, I was using it to create connection and kindness.
This was a new kind of power—not the kind that makes us feel “in control,” but the kind that offers space. Space to connect with who I really am. Space to choose love.
A Simple, Yet Powerful Phrase to Remember
Just a few weeks ago, I came across a podcast where Jefferson Fisher, a Texas trial lawyer who speaks often about emotional regulation and grounded communication was being interviewed.
He suggested:
“May your first word be a breath.”
And in that moment, I felt the wisdom of the years of practice, reflection, and self-inquiry come together in one clear, simple, and practical sentence, something I could share with others to help implement and integrate the power of pausing before speaking.
This quote offered the simplest reminder for the wisdom I have spent years cultivating.
If there is one thing that you take away from this article, let it be this: “Let a breath be your first response,” and see what happens.
This phrase has become a kind of shorthand for me.
A phrase I carry into parenting, relationships, conversations, and teaching.
Because when your first word is a breath…
You create space. You reconnect with the part of you that knows who you want to be. You return to the heart—before habitual reactivity takes over.
Why This Matters
Our brains are wired for efficiency. Most of us live and act from a place of patterned reactivity, what neuroscience calls the default mode network. This is the brain’s autopilot, built from years of conditioning and past experiences. It’s like mental autopilot: fast, familiar, and often defensive.
The brain does not distinguish from good or bad, from positive or negative, from happier or unhappy. It doesn’t filter for what’s kind, truthful, or wise—it simply scans for what’s familiar and safe. It’s designed for survival, not fulfilment.
And when we’re triggered—by stress, conflict, or fear—our nervous system kicks into fight-or-flight mode. In this state, we’re primed to protect, defend, or escape. Our field of vision narrows. Our breath shortens. Our first words are often fast, defensive, sharp—not because we’re unkind, but because we’re unsafe.
This is why we say things we regret.
It’s why we speak without consideration, even when we know better.
It’s why our words can feel out of sync with who we truly are.
But mindfulness interrupts that cycle.
It invites us to pause. To observe. To breathe.
And in that pause, we return to ourselves. We reconnect with the part of us that knows. And we get to choose again.
This matters because when we give ourselves permission to pause, to check in, and to bring more heart into our lives, we begin to create something more meaningful.
We stop living in reaction.
We stop creating pain for ourselves and others.
And instead, we begin to cultivate an inner peace that radiates outward, into our relationships, our work, and our presence in the world.
Let This Be Your Invitation
“May my first word be a breath.”
Not because you have to believe in it, but because you can experience its benefits immediately.
Try it the next time you’re in a difficult moment—before replying to that message. Before responding to your child’s cry. Before defending yourself in an argument.
Pause. Feel your feet on the ground. Feel your body.
Breathe in for two seconds. Hold for two seconds. Breathe out for two seconds.
And ask yourself: What would my heart want to say here?
The Life That Becomes Possible
Imagine a life where your words feel true. Where your voice comes from clarity, not chaos. Where you speak, not to prove, impress, or control, but to connect.
A life where your presence calms the room, not because you’ve mastered perfection, but because you’ve learned to pause.
This is the life I live now.
Not perfectly, but intentionally.
It’s the life that opened up when I stopped performing and started pausing. When I chose presence over reactivity. When I let my heart lead instead of habit.
It’s available to all of us.
And it begins not with a plan, a list, or a big transformation. It begins with something much simpler.
A breath.
So if you’re looking for one practice to change your life—one small shift that creates ripples in how you speak, relate, and live—let it be this:
May your first word be a breath.
About Carolina Gonzalez
Carolina Gonzalez is a certified mindfulness and meditation teacher based in Sydney, Australia. After navigating self-doubt and emotional depletion, she created Renew & Rise: Your 90-Day Pathway to Rediscover Clarity, Confidence, and Self-Worth. She helps people reconnect with their inner strength, cultivate self-worth, and feel empowered to make aligned life choices. Feeling overwhelmed or stuck? Carolina’s free 5-minute quiz can help you understand your coping style and offer a mindful step forward. Connect with her via Instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn.
