There are ideas that have been taken away from, or imposed on you to dismiss and divide you.
You can hear yourself preempting their judgment:
I’m not woo.
I’m not anti-medicine.
I’ve got hard evidence.
My sources are PhDs.
They shut down your intelligence and make you defensive. They put you at war with your own wisdom. They ask how do you know? And you want to say, I just fucking know. But you don’t say it.
Or maybe you do!
There’s a joke going around on the internet that makes it harder to speak out loud from your deepest intelligence:
Listen to your body, they say.
Well, my body says to eat the whole loaf, quit my job, lie down in the grass, and become one with the cows.
It’s funny because it’s not wrong.
Unexamined, the loudest thing a body produces is appetite. Cravings, urges, the 3pm pull toward something sweet, the 9pm scroll. The noise is real, and if you follow it, you land on the joke.
So let me be precise about what I’m asking you to claim.
Appetite is loud. It arrives fast, it wants it now, and it gets louder the more depleted you are.
Signal is quiet. It shows up after the noise settles, it doesn’t argue, and it holds still.
An untrained body mostly produces appetite.
That’s the reason a protocol exists: for you to calibrate the instrument, then listen.
Anyone who skips this first part and tells you to trust what you hear is handing you a broken compass and calling it freedom.
In a world that elevates science and logic – which is all head, yet we’ve all felt the bane of the monkey mind and disconnect from the body – it’s difficult to trust your ground, your deep knowing, your gut.
You second-guess yourself and thereby make decisions that make life feel harder (except everyone else thinks you’re doing good), and you wonder why you’re exhausted, don’t want to get out of bed, and don’t have the courage and inspiration to do what you want to do.
Here’s the thing:
Everyone will continue telling you what to do, and if you stay on this track, your exhaustion will continue.
You’ve been living into other people’s expectations for so long that you don’t even know you’ve borrowed their values and agendas, as well-intentioned as they may be. In fact, you pass these on to others as if your own.
The grind is worn with a badge of honor. Intuition is flaky. Data and “common sense” is king. We say common sense as if commonness is a virtue, which has always struck me as backwards. I prefer to say that I have a higher sense. A more intuitive one.
So doing it “right” might earn sympathy from others, but it’s wrong for you.
You know who you are. Take it back. Own your higher sense. Listen to yourself and stop borrowing theirs. Dare them to scare you away from your own awareness by calling it woo. Fucking claim it. Because it’s the most practical, aligned, and effective way to live.
And here’s the thing about owning your knowing: when you listen for it, it comes in the least amount of words. Because truth doesn’t explain itself away. It doesn’t justify. It doesn’t sell. And it doesn’t struggle. It simply knows.
Which is how to tell one from the other.
This is how I know when I’m struggling and when I’m not.
When I’m struggling, forget the outside noise, the inside noise in my head runs on. I can’t see how anything is going to work. I hold tight to things. I feel contracted in my body. I’m exhausted. Defensive. My immune system weakens. I feel at odds.
When I’m not struggling, when I own my knowing, I’m at ease. I feel relaxed and alert. I take my time with things. Without knowing how things are going to go, I know how things are going to go: in the end, super well. I’m flexible, but the controlling ones will disagree. Because flexibility doesn’t mean borrowing from them… but they believe it does. Flexibility doesn’t make it my job to please others… we make our own happiness. Flexibility respects us both… it understands that every human has an entire world unto themselves we can’t deny.
I don’t worry about things. My four anchors keep me focused on the most meaningful. No grind. Just prompts that tell me when to do what. And a nervous system that trusts.
Contracted, gripping, noise in your head running: that’s appetite and fear doing the talking. Let it pass without obeying it.
At ease, unhurried, flexible: that’s signal. Move on it.
No explanations needed.
Making this shift can feel impossible. Which is why I talk about the first rung of that ladder: lunch.
Given space to breathe and enjoy, this first step will shift your frequency. Which is another word for the state you emit while showing up in the world. Do it once and you get a state. Do it daily and it goes from state to becoming the thing your body returns to when nothing else is holding it up.
Grinding poisons it. It’s sheer effort, it lacks trust, and it contracts.
So clear it. Make a warm lunch. Sit down, say thank you, chew, taste your food. Enjoy every morsel, every second. What needs to happen after lunch will come soon enough. But this will give you the nourishment and sustenance you need for everything the day is going to ask of you. Eating unaware delivers food coma. Eating with the kind of attention you want others to give you delivers that full attention from the Universe. It’s the first rung that makes climbing the rest of the ladder easier.
Lunch is also where the calibration starts, which is why I keep pointing at it. It offers the fastest feedback loop. You eat, and within two hours your body reports back: clear or foggy, steady or crashing. Pay attention to what your body reports back, and you stop guessing which voice is appetite and which one is you. You have data. Your own.
You’ll raise your frequency, woo fully claimed, unapologetic. Life fully accessible.
Lunch. Steady energy. Singing in the kitchen. Joy, the thing that feels unearned… except that’s how you earn everything else. Truly. Because all the good that comes to you is a byproduct of a body that’s been fed, seated, and asked an honest question: does it come from love?
Eat warm, breathe slow, keep a rhythm.
– Savitree
I teach this in a few places. They’re here when you want them.
The 5-Day Reset. Free. Five days of warm, simple meals to quiet the static so you can hear what your body is saying underneath it. Start here if the noise is loud.
The Exhaustion Experiment. $47 or included with a paid subscription. Three days run as an experiment on yourself: the one-pot lunch framework, the signal checks, the tracking. You finish with your own evidence.
The Sadhana Huddle. For paid subscribers. Every morning, 6am CDT. A shared container for breath and mantra, for when your own rhythm won’t hold on its own yet.
The Anchor Circle. For founding members, and it stays small. For the work underneath the work, and the life you’d build if the day were actually yours.
A word about protocols, since I’ve just spent an essay telling you to trust yourself: Follow one as given at first, because a spun-out compass can’t be read yet. Then make it yours. No one has to tell you when that shift happens. You’ll know, and that’s the point.