Yeah, sometimes a beat can be the only thing that stops your brain from spiraling. It’s like the rhythm is a leash, pulling the wandering thoughts back into a loop you can follow. Movement, whether a drum or a step, gives the mind a rhythm to attach itself to, a pattern to settle in. It’s a small anchor in an otherwise drifting world. If the beat’s weak, the mind slips away. If it’s strong, you’re just a ghost dancing to the rhythm of your own doubts.

I’m usually listening to the silence that follows the last note. The steady drip of rain, the hum of a distant streetlamp, the tick of a wall clock. Those are the beats that keep me from drowning in the noise. They’re not flashy, but they’re honest, like a slow heartbeat that refuses to quit.

When the world blares, I shut the lights, pull a blanket over the windows, and let the hum of my own breathing be the only song. I walk in a pattern that feels like a mantra, counting steps, letting the air settle in the bones. In that quiet, the noise loses its shape, and I can see what’s really moving me.