When I do something that's stressful, I have to find a moment of

“When I do something that's stressful, I have to find a moment of peace, so I tend to meditate and get in the flow. It's a regular practice of mine.” Thus spoke Carla Hall, chef and teacher, yet in these words she is more than cook—she is sage. For her saying does not concern food alone, but the banquet of life itself, where the table is often set with worry, burden, and trial. Her wisdom reveals that in the midst of turmoil, one must carve out an island of stillness, a place where the storm cannot reach. In this place of inner quiet, one finds not only relief, but power.

The meaning of her words is simple yet profound: when the spirit is assailed by stress, the answer is not to plunge deeper into frenzy, but to pause, to breathe, to seek peace. Stress is like fire—left unchecked, it devours; guided with calmness, it can refine. Hall reminds us that through the practice of meditation and the art of entering the flow, we can master our own minds rather than be mastered by them. Stress will always come, but peace can always be chosen.

The ancients knew this well. The Stoics of Greece and Rome, from Epictetus to Marcus Aurelius, taught that the wise man must cultivate stillness even amidst chaos. Aurelius, surrounded by wars and conspiracies, would retreat into his journal, meditating upon the order of the universe and the fleeting nature of trouble. In this practice he found peace, not by denying his burdens, but by rising above them. What Carla Hall names “meditation” is this same ancient art—the training of the mind to remain calm, focused, and whole in the midst of storms.

History, too, gives us the example of Mahatma Gandhi. Surrounded by the immense struggle for India’s freedom, bearing both the weight of oppression and the expectations of millions, he turned each day to silence and prayer. In his quiet, he found the strength to walk miles, to fast without despair, and to lead a nation without violence. His regular practice of inner stillness was no luxury—it was his power. Hall’s words echo this same truth: peace is not the absence of struggle, but the practice that allows you to endure it.

We also see this wisdom in modern science. Psychologists and physicians alike speak of the power of mindfulness and meditation to calm the nervous system, to steady the heart, to restore clarity. What ancient sages taught by intuition, modern knowledge affirms: the human body itself responds to the practice of peace. Carla Hall’s “regular practice” is not only a habit of the spirit, but a medicine of the flesh. It is a reminder that peace is not accident, but discipline.

The lesson for us is clear: do not wait for stress to break you before you seek calm. Make of meditation a daily ritual, not an occasional refuge. Find the practices that bring you into the flow—whether prayer, silence, art, music, or breath. Build peace into your life as a soldier sharpens his sword, so that when the battle comes, your spirit is already armed. Do not despise small acts of calm, for they are the foundation of great resilience.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, take Carla Hall’s wisdom into your hearts: when stress rises, find your stillness. Make it your practice, not your exception. For the one who knows how to quiet the storm within cannot be broken by the storm without. Let peace be your anchor, let meditation be your shield, let flow be your path. Then you will discover that even in the heat of trial, you carry within you a sanctuary that no power can touch.