Trigger warning: If you feel activated as you read this, please pause for a moment. Feel your feet on the ground. Take one slow breath. Let yourself remember, nothing needs to be resolved right now—you are here. You have choice, and you don’t have to hold the whole world in this moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There are moments when something happens in the wider world… and it doesn’t stay “out there.”
It lands in the body.
A headline.
A statement.
Words that carry threat, finality, or destruction.
This happened to me last night when I heard the words “a whole civilization will die tonight.” I felt my body respond immediately.
And suddenly—something ancient was activated.
My breath tightened. My chest constricted. And my mind could not simply “move on.”
There were tears. A lot of tears. And a deep sense of fear.
This was not weakness. This was not overreaction. This is the nervous system doing what it has always done— responding to perceived threat.
When It Touches Something Deeper
As I stayed with the experience, I began to sense that my response was not only about the present moment.
It felt older. Deeper. As if something in me recognized the language of annihilation… in a way that went beyond my personal life.
And I realized: For many of us, moments like this can touch into deeper layers—including ancestral memory.
Histories of loss. Of displacement. Of violence that lives not only in story…but in the body.
We may not always consciously connect these threads.
But the body remembers.
And when something in the present echoes those patterns—the response can feel immediate, overwhelming, and hard to release.
There is nothing wrong in this.
This is part of being human…and part of being connected to others and to those who came before us.
We are living in a time where this kind of response is increasingly understood.
During periods of collective stress—such as the pandemic or times of political instability—there have been measurable increases in anxiety, emotional distress, and calls to crisis support lines.
So when something lands in your body this way… you are not imagining it.
Your nervous system is responding to conditions that many others are feeling as well.
And for many of us, these moments reach deeper. They touch personal history. Collective memory. Ancestral imprints.
So when something is said that carries the weight of collapse or annihilation…the body responds as if it is immediate.
Because in some ways… it is.
When We Get Stuck in the Loop
Sometimes, when something lands strongly…we don’t just feel it—we get caught inside it.
The mind tries to make sense of it. Going over it again and again. Searching for clarity. Trying to resolve the urgency we feel.
There can be a stream of:
“Yes, but…”
“What if…”
“This means…”
Even with awareness… even with practice…it can be difficult to step out.
This, too, is part of the nervous system’s attempt to protect.
But there is often a point where thinking no longer brings relief. And we are invited—gently—back into the body.
Finding Something to Hold Onto
In moments like this, we often need something real to reach for. Not an idea. But something that lives in the body.
For me, in that moment…what came was not quite a solution—but rather linking back to an inner sense of knowing.
I had just been with my granddaughter earlier in the day. Holding her small, precious body and attuning to her. Feeling the instinct to keep her safe…to support her parents…to help create a space of steadiness and care.
And from that, something formed in me:
I will be a steady, loving presence no matter what life brings.
Not because it removed uncertainty…but because it gave me a way of being inside it.
There was a quiet clarity:
I love them so much.
I cannot control everything.
Yet I can still be a source of steadiness and care.
And slowly, I began to see more clearly…What actually protects them is not control of global events. But something closer. More immediate. More human.
Emotional safety in relationship
A model of resilience
A grandmother who can feel deeply and return to steadiness
A sense that even when things are hard, they are not alone
This is real protection. Not perfect. Not absolute. But profoundly meaningful. And from here, something in my body began to settle. Not all at once. But enough.
From Personal to Collective
What became clear is that this instinct is not only personal.
The way we care for a child…create safety…stay present…is not separate from how we care for one another in community. This capacity already exists within us. But it is not a one-time realization. It is something we need to strengthen.
Building Resilience
Moments of activation will come. The question is not how to avoid them. But how we learn to meet them. With awareness. With support. With connection.
Sometimes we can do this on our own.
And sometimes we need others.
Someone to listen.
Someone to help us settle. Someone who can stay present when we feel overwhelmed.
There is no weakness in this. This is how resilience is built. Not in isolation—but in relationship.
Staying Present Without Turning Away
There is another pattern many of us recognize.
At times, when intensity is high…we turn away.
We return to what feels manageable. To daily life. To a sense of safety we have come to rely on.
This, too, is human.
But sometimes, turning away becomes disconnection.
Where concern does not become engagement.
Where awareness does not become participation.
Ethical Grounding is not about forcing action.
But it does ask something of us.
To stay connected enough that when the moment comes… we can respond. Not from urgency alone. And not from avoidance. But from presence.
A Brief Practice
Pause.
Feel your feet on the ground.
Take one slow breath.
Notice what is here in your body.
Not the story—the sensation.
And gently name it: “Fear is here.”…“Tension is here.” …“Uncertainty is here.”
Let the naming be enough.
Closing
If you are finding yourself overwhelmed… you are not alone. Nothing has gone wrong in you.
Something in you is responding to a world that can be, at times, overwhelming.
The invitation is not to harden. But to stay connected.To yourself. To others. To what is still steady, even now.
And to remember:
There are many of us…learning how to be here together.
With care, Robin 🌿