A Letter From Your Nervous System

The Ancient Voice Within

You think I am fragile.

You call me anxiety.

You call me burnout.

You call me “just stress.”

But I am none of those.

I am your oldest ally.

I wire your thoughts into being.

I keep your heart in rhythm.

I hold your breath steady when you sleep.

I am not broken.

I am asking for rhythm.

No gloss. Only rhythm.

Where the Signal Meets Silence

Still, the same story runs on repeat—

headlines, pings, what-ifs—until my body takes it as now.

I do what I’m built to do: rise, flare, then go dim.

Give me minerals to conduct the signal.

Give me water to carry it home.

Give me morning light for my clock.

Give me one unhurried breath

that doesn’t have to prove anything.

Do this, and I will hum again.

I will carry you back to coherence.

Between the speed and the silence, there is a choice. Enter there.

Will you?

An Invitation Into Rhythm

Right now:

• Breathe 5 in, 5 out.

• Place attention in your heart.

• Invite one elevated feeling—gratitude, compassion, care.

• Let it spread for 60 seconds.

• Name one small gratitude you can feel in the body (warm hands, a patch of light, the next inhale).

  
  

Between the signal and the story, there is a pause. Enter there.

• Place a hand on your chest.

• Notice the one who is noticing.

• I am a network, but awareness is the whole that holds us.

When the loop starts: name it.

When your jaw locks: soften on a long exhale.

When your gaze narrows: find the horizon.

The Return to Coherence

I am not trying to stop you.

I am trying to keep you.

You are not a machine.

You are a body that wants coherence.

You are not the storm; you are the sky that holds it.

Choose rhythm over urgency.

Begin with water, light, and breath.

I will meet you there.

✦A Ritual of Reset

If your system is asking for rhythm, give it a day.

Begin with one small act of coherence — a glass of water in stillness,

a slow breath at sunrise,

the softness of gratitude before sleep.

Like water carving stone, small rituals shape new rhythms.

Your body remembers the way home.

✦ Read Next

➡️ What Would Your Scar Tell You If It Could Speak? — the twin to this piece, where the body writes its memory back into skin.

✨ This way:

Every story spoken becomes lighter for all of us.

If something in you stirred while reading, leave a note — your words might be the ones another reader needs today.

This essay first appeared in Uncaged, my Substack community.

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