Mindset and Mindfulness - The Inner Warrior

14. The Space Between Thoughts

September 12, 2026•7 min read

There is a gap between the thought and what you do with it.

Most people do not know that gap exists. The thought arrives, and before they have even noticed it, they are already inside it, following it, feeding it, building on it. As if the mind and the person were the same thing, moving as one.

They are not.

The mind generates thoughts the way the ocean generates waves. Constantly. Without asking permission. Some of them are small. Some of them are enormous. And the mind doesn't care whether the thoughts are useful, accurate, or worth your attention. It just keeps producing them.

The practice, the one that changes everything, is learning to find the space between the thought and your response to it.

Not controlling the thoughts. Not silencing them. Just not automatically following everyone.



The Sky and the Weather

Here is an image I come back to regularly.

The sky does not become the weather. Clouds roll through. Storms arrive. Sun breaks through. The whole range of weather passes across the sky, and the sky stays exactly what it is. Vast. Still. Unchanged beneath whatever is moving through it.

Your awareness is the sky. Your thoughts are the weather.

The storm feels total when you are inside it. The anxiety that fills every corner. The overthinking makes the whole day feel impossible. The spiral of worry that arrives at two in the morning and refuses to be reasoned with.

But underneath all of it, the sky is still there. Your awareness, the part of you that can notice the storm is happening, is still there.

The moment you notice a thought rather than just having it, something shifts. Not dramatically. Not all at once. But the identification with the weather loosens, and the sky becomes something you can feel again.

That is the practice. Learning to be the sky.



What Sitting Still Taught Me

I resisted meditation for years.

I had been training in martial arts since I was 13. I had forty years in the surf. I knew about discipline, about focus, about showing up when things were hard. But sitting still felt like the opposite of everything I had created my practice around.

What eventually brought me to it was not a dramatic realisation. It was exhaustion. I was carrying a lot, the kind of weight that does not announce itself clearly but makes everything heavier. And the movement practices that had always been my way of processing life were not reaching it.

So I sat. Badly at first. Restlessly. Fighting the thoughts, getting frustrated with the fighting, frustrated with the frustration.

And then, slowly, something changed. Not the thoughts, they kept coming. But my relationship with them started to shift. I started to notice the gap. The tiny space between the thought arriving and me automatically climbing inside it.

That gap felt like nothing at first. Barely a breath wide. But it was enough.

In that gap, I had a choice. Follow the thought, or let it pass. Not every time. Not perfectly. But sometimes. And sometimes that's where practice begins.



The Thought Is Not the Truth

One of the most useful things I have ever learned is this: a thought is not a fact.

The mind presents its thoughts with complete confidence. As though each one is a report from reality rather than an interpretation of it. As though what arrives in your head at three in the morning is an accurate assessment of your life, your worth, your future.

It is not.

Thoughts are shaped by mood, by tiredness, by what happened yesterday, by old patterns of interpretation that formed in childhood and have been running ever since. The same situation can produce entirely different thoughts depending on how much sleep you got, what you ate, and whether you feel connected to the people around you.

When you start to find the space between the thought and your response to it, you also start to see the thought for what it is. Not the truth. Just a thought. One interpretation, arriving with more certainty than it deserves.

And when you can see that clearly, even briefly, the thought loses some of its power to pull you somewhere you do not want to go.



Return Is the Practice

The mind will wander. Every time.

This is not a failure of meditation or of mindfulness. It is just how minds work. The thinking mind is designed to roam. To plan, to replay, to anticipate, to problem-solve. Even in the quietest moments, it will find something to do.

The practice is not to stop the wandering. The practice is the return.

Noticing that you have drifted. And coming back. Not with frustration or self-criticism. Just the patient act of returning to where you are.

Every time you notice you have drifted and come back, you are doing the practice. Not failing it. The noticing is the practice. The return is the practice. The drift itself is just the tide going out, making the return possible.

With time, the returns come faster. The gap between drifting and noticing gets shorter. And the space between thought and response, that barely there gap that changes everything, begins to widen.



A Daily Practice

The Two-Minute Return.

Twice a day, morning and evening work well, find two minutes to sit without doing anything else.

No phone. No task. Just you and whatever is present.

Notice what the mind is doing. Not to judge it or change it. Just to see it. If it's planning, notice that it's planning. If it's worrying, notice that it's worrying. If it's replaying something, notice that too.

Then bring your attention to your breath. One slow inhale. One slow exhale. Not controlling the breath, just following it.

When the mind wanders, and it will, simply notice and return. That is the whole practice.

Two minutes. Twice a day. Over weeks, the gap begins to open.



The Space Is Already There

You do not have to create the space between thoughts. It is already there.

It has always been there. Between every thought and your reaction to it. Between every feeling and what you do with it. Between the thing that happens and the story you tell yourself about it.

The practice is learning to find it. To slow down enough to notice that it exists. And then, gradually, to widen it, not through force, but through familiarity.

Because in that space, however small it starts, something important lives. The ability to choose your response rather than just react. The ability to be the sky rather than the weather. The ability to be present in your own life rather than always slightly elsewhere, following a thought to a place that needs your attention less than this moment does.

The space is already there.

It is waiting for you to find it.



Reflection

When did you last notice a thought arrive without immediately following it?

And what would change if you had a two-second gap between every difficult thought and your response to it?



The Research

Research from Yale University, led by psychologist Susan Nolen-Hoeksema, found that overthinking, what psychologists call rumination, is one of the strongest predictors of anxiety and depression. The mind caught in repetitive thought loops actively reinforces those patterns over time, making them harder to break. Crucially, the same research points to metacognitive awareness, the ability to notice your own thinking rather than simply being inside it, as one of the most effective circuit breakers. The moment you can observe a thought rather than just experience it, you interrupt the automatic loop. This is what the space between thoughts makes possible. Not the absence of difficult thoughts, but the presence of the awareness that can see them arriving.

Nolen-Hoeksema, S., Wisco, B. E., & Lyubomirsky, S. (2008). Rethinking Rumination. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 3(5), 400-424.



Further Reading

Micro Meditations: Short, practical mindfulness practices that build the gap between thought and reaction, one small pause at a time. No experience needed. No long sessions are required. Available at brotherbluebooks.com



The Inner Warrior Book

The Inner Warrior: A Framework for Returning to Yourself is the book that brings the full framework to life. Guard your energy. Build your foundation. Learn to flow. Act with purpose. Four phases, four pillars, and the one thread that runs through all of it: awareness and return. Available now at brotherbluebooks.com



Free 5-Day Resilience Experience

If you'd like to start building resilience, awareness, and calm strength through simple daily practices, join my free 5-Days of Resilience experience. Begin here: begin.theinnerwarrior.life

Mark Davies

Mark Davies

Mark Davies has spent four decades on the mat, in the surf, and with a guitar in his hands, and every word he writes comes from that lived experience. He holds five black belts, is a former boxing and karate champion, a former competitive surfer, a certified meditation and yoga teacher, and an award-winning author of twelve books. He has coached thousands of students across martial arts, fitness, and personal development, and he has done the hard inner work himself. He knows what it feels like to be lost. To carry things that have no name. To keep moving while something underneath quietly pulls you back. The Inner Warrior exists because of that. Not as a theory. As a road map built from the inside out. Everything here is practical, honest, and grounded in a life actually lived.

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