Whatever comes to mind. Sometimes a story I read, sometimes something that came to me while holding my mala beads.
Three years of insomnia. Melatonin, white noise, counting sheep — nothing worked. Then I met a Daoist monk on Mount Qingcheng who taught me three breathing techniques. A month later, I was asleep in fifteen minutes.
At eleven at night, my brain was full of work. My mom said: go make millet porridge. When your stomach is warm, you settle down. Those twenty minutes at the stove worked better than any meditation app.
Blisters in my mouth, can't sleep at night, irritable all day. My mom said it's "heart fire." An ordinary person tries living by the seasons for a few days and discovers the ancient wisdom isn't mysticism at all.