There’s a practice I follow to ground myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed.

It comes from an unlikely place: bullfighting. (For our purposes, I’m going to set aside the cruelty of the “sport” and instead focus on the idea).

It’s called querencia .

In bullfighting, it’s believed that the bull is at its most powerful—not when it’s charging blindly, but when it finds its querencia . That’s the spot in the ring it sees as its own.

When the bull gets there, it stops reacting. It becomes still. Focused. Unshakable. That’s when it’s most formidable.

Humans work the same way.

Most of us spend our days like the frantic bull—charging from one email to the next, one meeting to the next, one notification to the next. We move fast, but with no real direction.

When you’re in that frantic mode, you’re vulnerable.

As a self-constructed pandemonium rages in your arena—as you’re fighting matadors and reacting to perceived crises—you lose the ability to think clearly. And when you lose good thinking, you lose everything: insight, clarity, choice.

Underneath all that noise is a powerful, knowing part of you that’s quietly observing it all.

Your job is to get back to that part—to find your querencia .

Here’s how I do it. It takes about two minutes. No yoga mat or incense required.

First, I step away from the chaos, even if it’s just a few feet.

This is crucial. You have to physically move.

Most people don’t. They go from a stressful Zoom meeting straight into emails, thinking they’re being productive.

But they’re still in the storm. And you can’t observe the storm if you’re still inside it—sitting in the same chair that’s stressing you out.

Once I’ve moved, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Nothing fancy. Just enough to slow everything down.

Then, I ask myself: What do I really think? Is this mine—or did I pick it up from someone else?

It’s simple—but powerful. That shift from reacting to choosing connects me to my querencia .

I realize the stressful email isn’t worth the adrenaline spike.

I realize I’m getting pulled into someone else’s chaos.

I realize I don’t have to play the urgency game.

This isn’t about pretending everything is fine or radiating peace while you’re secretly unraveling.

It’s about creating just enough space to choose your next move—rather than letting the world choose for you.

That’s what querencia offers: not escape, but return.

Return to clarity. Return to your own rhythm. Return to the part of you that’s been steady all along.

The chaos doesn’t disappear. But now, you’re not caught in it.

That’s where your strength lives.

Not in the noise—but in the space you make inside it.

Ad astra,

Ozan

Overwhelmed? Try this.