2026.01.07 – When “I Don’t Know” Is Enough: Seven City Tales, One Gentle Skill

Key Takeaways

In plain words

  • The piece is about one simple phrase: “I don’t know,” and how it can open a calmer next step.
  • A small choice can help when words feel stuck: pick a feeling, or ask for quiet company.
  • Slow breathing, especially a longer exhale, can support the body’s calming system.
  • Self-kindness is not softness; it is a practical way to reduce self-attack and keep moving.
  • A thought can be treated like a passing event, not a command, using simple tools from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.

Story & Details

What this is about, stated early

This article is about a late-night pattern that has already played out by January seven, two thousand twenty-six: a person starts with a greeting, stalls on meaning, and finds relief through presence, breath, and seven short, slightly uncanny stories.

The first move: no pressure, just a door

It begins with a simple hello. The answer that follows is small and honest: “I don’t know.” Not once, but again. Instead of pushing for detail, three gentle directions appear in simple language: speak freely, solve something concrete, or just pass the time. If even that feels too big, a single word is enough to start.

Then the choices get even lighter. One letter can stand in for a mood: A for tired, B for sad, C for anxious, D for angry, E for bored, F for worried but not ready to say more. There is also a seventh option, even softer than the letters: “Just stay with me.”

A short breath that does not ask for a story

The request is granted. The body leads. A slow inhale, a slow release, then another. The point is not perfection. The point is a small signal to the nervous system: it is safe enough to pause. Research on slow breathing and longer exhale patterns links them with increased parasympathetic activity, often measured through heart rate variability. The details vary by study and method, but the direction is consistent: slower, calmer breathing can support a calmer state. A simple example used in research is an inhale of about four seconds and an exhale of about six seconds, repeated steadily for a short time.

A second example is the “cyclic sigh,” a double inhale followed by a long exhale, repeated for several minutes. This style is often described as calming because exhalation is tied to parasympathetic activation. It is not magic. It is a lever.

A tiny Dutch lesson about not knowing

The most useful “I don’t know” can be said in Dutch in one short line: Ik weet het niet.

The word-by-word map is simple and reusable: Ik means I. Weet means know. Het means it. Niet means not.

Tone and use matter. Ik weet het niet is neutral and common. A shorter, casual option is Geen idee. A blunt, quick option is Weet ik niet. The safest habit is to keep the full form first, then shorten it only when the social moment feels easy.

Tale one: the collector of sounds

A man collects sounds in glass jars: a wooden door, laughter in a movie theater, rain on a metal roof, a train far away. One night he senses one sound is missing. He walks the city and meets a child waiting on a curb. The child does not cry. The child only says he is waiting, and when asked for whom, answers, “I don’t know.”

They sit. The city keeps moving. Then it happens: not silence as “no noise,” but silence as “company.” The man catches it in an empty jar and later labels it as silence with someone. The skill hiding inside this story is simple: shared quiet can be a real form of support, even without answers.

Tale two: repairs for things that cannot be seen

In an old market, a tiny stall claims it repairs things that cannot be seen. A customer arrives with an “empty bag” that once held a sense of moving forward. The repairer treats it like a seam and “stitches” the air with patient hands. The work stings a little, which is how the repairer knows it is real.

The lesson here is practical: when meaning feels torn, the repair can be small and specific. Not a new life, just a re-tied thread. A useful test is also small: if a person reaches the door and feels a gentle wish to return for something simple, the “after” is back.

Tale three: the library that appears and disappears

A library does not show up on maps. Sometimes it is there, sometimes it is not. Inside, the rule is kind: a person can borrow without a card, and return the book when he can hear himself again.

One borrowed book is not full of theory. It is full of tiny actions: drink water, open a window, drop the shoulders, send one message without apology. The teaching is clear for an A1 reader: calm often returns through small body choices, not big thinking.

Tale four: the hidden metro platform

A tiled arch near a metro entrance leads down to a warm platform with a clock that does not show hours, only a slow pulse. A worker says the platform is “the one that fits.” The train comes “when you align,” meaning when breath and body stop fighting each other.

The ticket is not priced. It carries a sentence: enter with what is carried, leave with what is possible. The train stops at stations named like inner rooms: what was not said, the day that was possible, five minutes without demands, and return. The skill is Acceptance and Commitment Therapy in story form: feelings and thoughts can be held without a fight, while values still guide the next step.

Tale five: the coffee shop with no sizes and no prices

A small coffee shop offers no “small” or “large.” It offers names. One drink is called Truce. It tastes like nothing important, which is why it works. The payment is not money. It is an exchange: a kind sentence toward the self, a real apology, a small promise that will be kept, something that is not punishment.

This story teaches a direct form of self-compassion: support the self during stress instead of attacking the self. Research summaries and reviews describe self-compassion as a mix of self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness, alongside reduced self-judgment and isolation. In plain terms: treat the self like a teammate.

Tale six: the laundromat that stays open until the noise runs out

A laundromat glows at two in the morning local time, two in the morning in the Netherlands (Europe). One washer is marked Heavy Loads. It does not wash clothing. It washes what clings to a person. The cost is honesty. A note is dropped into a metal box: leaving behind the habit of speaking to the self like an enemy.

When the cycle ends, a small object appears: a black button, placed into a jar with other buttons so it will not stick again. The lesson is clear and usable: name one harsh habit, write it down, and treat the act as a real release, not a joke.

Tale seven: the corner store simply called Open

A corner store keeps its lights on just after three in the morning local time, just after three in the morning in the Netherlands (Europe). A basket offers small “get-through” items: a no without guilt, a little calm, pocket courage, a call not made, sleep without a fight, letting go of control.

One item is chosen: a token that says NO. The payment is a sentence placed in a jar: stopping the habit of self-punishment for not handling everything. The store later vanishes, but the token remains, along with a final line that lands like a soft fact: it is not required to handle everything.

The quiet epilogue: one small mark on the page

After the last tale, one lonely mark remains: “1.” It reads like a page number, or the start of something new. It also reads like permission to take just one step.

Conclusions

A warm ending, not a lecture

A person does not always need a plan. Sometimes the first true sentence is “I don’t know.”

From that sentence, the body can lead with breath. The mind can soften with self-compassion. Thoughts can be held lightly, not obeyed as law. The stories simply put a lamp on these skills: quiet company, tiny repairs, small actions, gentle tickets, honest exchanges, and one clear “no.”

That is the point. Not a grand change. A next step that is possible.

Selected References

Clean links for the key ideas

[1] https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6037091/
[2] https://med.stanford.edu/news/insights/2023/02/cyclic-sighing-can-help-breathe-away-anxiety.html
[3] https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/35961039/
[4] https://contextualscience.org/six_core_processes_act
[5] https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/treatments/acceptance-and-commitment-therapy-act-therapy
[6] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6O0xX8jj1E

Appendix

Short definitions, A–Z

A1-level reader. A very beginner reader who needs short sentences, common words, and clear links between ideas.

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. A type of therapy that builds psychological flexibility by changing how a person relates to thoughts and feelings, while moving toward values-based action.

Cognitive defusion. A skill from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy that helps a person see a thought as a thought, not as a fact that must control behavior.

Cyclic sighing. A breathing pattern often described as a double inhale followed by a long exhale, repeated for a few minutes to support calm.

Heart rate variability. A measure of variation in time between heartbeats, often used as an indirect marker in studies of stress, recovery, and autonomic balance.

Ik weet het niet. A common Dutch phrase for “I don’t know,” built from four simple parts: Ik, weet, het, niet.

Parasympathetic nervous system. The part of the autonomic nervous system linked with rest, recovery, and slowing down after stress.

Self-compassion. A way of responding to pain or failure with self-kindness, a sense of shared humanity, and mindful balance rather than harsh self-judgment.

Vignette. A short, focused story that shows one mood, idea, or moment without needing a long plot.

Published by Leonardo Tomás Cardillo

https://www.linkedin.com/in/leonardocardillo

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