We think stillness should feel peaceful immediately. But the first five minutes are actually restless, jittery, uncomfortable. That's not a sign you're doing it wrong—it's your nervous system beginning to downshift. Here's what happens if you stay.
That first moment of stillness often reveals how much momentum the nervous system has been carrying all day. When the activity stops, the system doesn’t immediately know what to do with the quiet.
I’ve noticed something similar in other transitions as well. The body often experiences the shift before the mind understands what’s happening.
That early restlessness can actually be a sign that something deeper is beginning to reorganize
Understanding that the body often experiences the shift before the mind understands what’s happening is what can help us practice listening and trusting our body. “That early restlessness can actually be a sign that something deeper is beginning to reorganize” is exactly it! And I agree that this happens in other transitions, which is why I talk about using lunch as a simple, repeated-daily place to practice signal literacy. Because how we eat has a huge impact on our gut-brain, lunch becomes medicine. 🧠
I love that you've framed lunch as the one moment in the day where we can consciously practice downshifting. And yes, the initial discomfort is real.
What helps me is going outside. I've made it a practice to have at least one meal a day, usually lunch, outdoors. The sun, the wind, and the sounds around me do a lot of the work. There's something profoundly powerful about shifting your focus outward that makes the downshift happen faster and feel less forced.
That’s a powerful point, Irina, about nature and the outdoors as a place to shift the focus outwards — they connect us inwards. Versus screens, which disconnect us.
When we can’t go outside due to weather, it helps if our kitchen or dining room has windows and natural light. And also, our plates can become the nature we connect with: greens, colors, textures, aromas. Real plates. Candles. Cloth napkins.
To really look at things—what’s going on around us outside or the beauty of our plate—that’s being in the here and now. Where we meet our parasympathetic nervous system.
…or you get a dog. Then you go outside in any weather whether you feel like it or not. And then you walk back in the door and oxytocin kicks in inhibiting the amygdala, dropping cortisol, and activating the parasympathetic nervous system.
My dog, Ginger, has been my most consistent wellness protocol.
What you’re describing here feels very familiar.
That first moment of stillness often reveals how much momentum the nervous system has been carrying all day. When the activity stops, the system doesn’t immediately know what to do with the quiet.
I’ve noticed something similar in other transitions as well. The body often experiences the shift before the mind understands what’s happening.
That early restlessness can actually be a sign that something deeper is beginning to reorganize
Understanding that the body often experiences the shift before the mind understands what’s happening is what can help us practice listening and trusting our body. “That early restlessness can actually be a sign that something deeper is beginning to reorganize” is exactly it! And I agree that this happens in other transitions, which is why I talk about using lunch as a simple, repeated-daily place to practice signal literacy. Because how we eat has a huge impact on our gut-brain, lunch becomes medicine. 🧠
I love that you've framed lunch as the one moment in the day where we can consciously practice downshifting. And yes, the initial discomfort is real.
What helps me is going outside. I've made it a practice to have at least one meal a day, usually lunch, outdoors. The sun, the wind, and the sounds around me do a lot of the work. There's something profoundly powerful about shifting your focus outward that makes the downshift happen faster and feel less forced.
That’s a powerful point, Irina, about nature and the outdoors as a place to shift the focus outwards — they connect us inwards. Versus screens, which disconnect us.
When we can’t go outside due to weather, it helps if our kitchen or dining room has windows and natural light. And also, our plates can become the nature we connect with: greens, colors, textures, aromas. Real plates. Candles. Cloth napkins.
To really look at things—what’s going on around us outside or the beauty of our plate—that’s being in the here and now. Where we meet our parasympathetic nervous system.
…or you get a dog. Then you go outside in any weather whether you feel like it or not. And then you walk back in the door and oxytocin kicks in inhibiting the amygdala, dropping cortisol, and activating the parasympathetic nervous system.
My dog, Ginger, has been my most consistent wellness protocol.
Boy do I know it. My Louie was that for me…
Oh, I’m sorry if I brought bittersweet memories…
No no. Only fond memories. 💛