A small but big move

My nervous system is changing.

I noticed it when I was in Israel a few months back.

In Jerusalem I was able to move. I noticed the lights reflecting off the windows. The warm glow of the sunset off the Jerusalem stone. I noticed the cultures and languages and dress of people walking by. I noticed the pain, the joy, the hope, the fear, the struggle, the survival. My usual stuck New York self was becoming unstuck: walking, experiencing, noticing.

I was open to experience and experience held me. I volunteered more in 3 months then I had volunteered in my entire stay in the North East. I was able to hold space for the children of Tzfat. I gave and I was given.

Now that I am in South Florida, I am continuing to notice the shift.

I live close to the bay in South Beach, and almost without planning it, I have been connecting with water four or five times a week. Some days I walk to the ocean before work. Other days I sit quietly by the bay and watch the light move across the surface. These moments are simple, but the effects feel profound.

I feel calmer.

I wake earlier without forcing myself.
My thoughts move more slowly.
My body feels less braced.
I am walking everywhere instead of rushing from one obligation to the next.

Over the years, I learned that insight alone does not always create change.

Lately I have been thinking about regulation not as something we think ourselves into, but something our nervous system experiences through safety, rhythm, and environment. What I understand about my body is that it needs lived experiences of safety. Repeated, predictable moments where it can soften its vigilance.

In Jerusalem, I noticed the subtle shift as I worked part time, enjoyed coffee in the morning, and volunteered.

In South Florida, I am continuing to notice the shifts as I have now upped my schedule but create daily and weekly rituals to support mental health: going to the water, enjoying the sunset.

My breath has changed.
It feels deeper. More internal. Less effortful.

I didn’t realize how much activation I was carrying until my system began letting it go.

This morning my siblings sent photos of the New York blizzard. The pictures were fun, with the children playing in the snow, but all I could see was heavy snow, grey skies, people bundled against the cold.

I feel a quiet confirmation inside myself that moving was the right thing for me.

Our environments shape our nervous systems more than we often acknowledge. Light, warmth, movement, proximity to nature, these are not luxuries. They are forms of nervous system support.

I am learning, again, that regulation can emerge not from pushing harder, but from placing ourselves where our bodies feel safe enough to breathe.