Awkwardness Is Also Practice

You don’t have to feel graceful. You don’t have to know what you’re doing. You don’t have to land every moment clean.

Awkward counts.

The stumble. The silence. The sentence that didn’t come out right. The breath that didn’t settle.

All of it belongs.

This is not a performance. This is presence.

And presence isn’t always polished. Sometimes it’s clunky. Sometimes it’s tight. Sometimes it’s deeply human and slightly embarrassing.

That’s the real Zen. The one that includes fidgeting. The one that includes not knowing what to say. The one that forgives you for being a little weird sometimes.

Awkwardness means you’re not hiding. It means you’re here. It means you’re being real instead of rehearsed.

We try to edit ourselves in real time. Smooth out the edges. Cover up the tremble. Talk like we’ve already healed.

But Zen doesn’t want your script. It wants your presence.

You can stutter and still be mindful. You can hesitate and still be in practice. You can feel exposed and still be enough.

Let it be awkward. Let the pause hang. Let the words fall where they may.

This moment doesn’t need perfection. It needs you.

Breathing. Listening. Returning. Even when it’s weird. Especially then.

Awkwardness is also practice. Because awkwardness is truth. And truth is the ground beneath everything.