Dealing with the Fear of the Unpredictable

“Whenever we can start bringing that stress down, that fear response down, we tend to make much better decisions.”

A Circle of Care

“We’re here because of you, because we care about you.”

All right—welcome to Dealing with the Fear of the Unpredictable, a space for being calm, grounded, and present as we face things that feel confusing. We’re Cathy Vartuli from IntimacyDojo .com and Rick Wilkes from ThrivingNow.com, and we’re gathering—across time zones, across kitchen tables and living-room couches—because caring is contagious.

Let your heart notice that people care about you. There’s a primitive survival mechanism that relaxes the moment it realizes, “I’m not alone.” When that stress drops, better decisions become possible.

Grounding in the Body

“Feel your feet on the ground, feel your butt on whatever it’s sitting on, and take a nice, slow, deep breath.”

There’s deep value in being grounded. We don’t mean perfectly stable—just here. Present for ourselves, present for each other. Go ahead and vibrate your hand on your chest if it feels good; that gentle hum reaches the vagus nerve and whispers, “Hey, no lion’s about to eat you.”

Now look around the room: there’s food in the kitchen, the phone’s right there, the car keys are on the hook, the cat’s fed. Let that survival brain notice, “In this moment, I’m actually okay.” This living meditation builds resilience muscles fast.

Naming the Fear Loop

“When she’s worried, her heart and body respond to that worry, and her brain thinks of even more to worry about.”

Worry can spiral like a hamster wheel. Panic might help if you truly have to break down a wall to survive, but most of us just need the pause. We ground, we breathe, we let the adrenaline settle so decisions—and conversations—come from wisdom rather than alarm.

EFT Tapping Round — Feeling the Sensations

Theme: Hearing the Warning Signal

Side of Hand: Even though I’m feeling this right there and I feel kind of scared, I’m actually okay in this moment. I’m just having strong sensations. Even though I’ve been taught to avoid these sensations—or run away as fast as I can, maybe eat or blame someone else or shop—in just this moment I can feel those sensations.

Top of Head: Hey sensations—hey sensations.Eyebrow: I know I kind of resent you.Side of Eye: You do not feel good.Under the Eye: I want you to go away.Under the Nose: I blame you.Chin: I make bad decisions sometimes when I’m feeling you; I’m prone to making ungrounded decisions.Collarbone: Thank you for warning me—thank you for caring about my well-being; I imagine you’re working very hard to keep me safe.

Top of Head: Taking a nice slow deep breath…

Balanced Preparedness

“Some people prepare themselves by panicking; some declare it’s the end of the world. We get to choose something in the middle.”

We’ve watched shelves empty of onions, pasta, even toilet paper. Our brains shout “Not enough!”—yet most of us still have cupboards that can carry us. Reasonable precautions matter: wash hands for twenty seconds, stock for a couple of weeks, notice when the news feed is raising your cortisol more than your IQ.

We like to ask, “What would a reasonable person do?” Buy tissues and chicken soup? Sure. Fight for the last pallet of bottled water? Probably not.

When Isolation Feels Like the Worst-Case Scenario

“Humans don’t choose isolation—it’s the worst possible punishment.”

A student shared: “University just went fully online. All my social contact is cut off. I feel like I’m going crazy.” Her stomach clenched up to her head, a ten out of ten. Together we tapped, honored the need for connection as a nutrient, and respected the body’s honest cry: “This isn’t optimal for me.”

EFT Tapping Round — Worst Fear: Isolation

Theme: Ending Up Alone

Side of Hand: Even though this is my worst fear—ending up alone—and it feels like it’s happened, the social distancing is not good for me, part of me feels like I’m going crazy, and my primitive brain feels isolated, I acknowledge how intense this is right now.

Top of Head: This feels like half a life.Eyebrow: I feel helpless.Side of Eye: I feel helpless.Under the Eye: Part of me is trying to fix it.Under the Nose: Artemis trying to fix it.Chin: I appreciate that part of me.Collarbone: There’s no obvious fix.

Top of Head: I’d have to do it a bit more—bring it down.

Guided Clearing: Washing Away Collective Anxiety

“Imagine the universe washing you down with love—honey-golden light rinsing away anxiety you don’t need anymore.”

Close your eyes if it’s safe. Let that golden light pour from crown to toes, flushing tingles of other people’s worry straight into the earth’s magma to be recycled. A second wave soothes frazzled nerve endings, turning down the volume knob so you still hear what matters without the static. Finally, a creamy white light melts like butter into every cell—organic, grass-fed comfort—coating muscles, joints, even the tiny bones of your feet.

Breathe in the love the universe has for you, breathe out gratitude. The balm stays with you; recall it any time by remembering, “It’s just like butter melting into every cell.”

Embracing the Pause

“It’s a pause—that’s how I’m choosing to feel it.”

Government shutdowns of large gatherings might look like bad news, yet they slow the spread so hospitals can help the vulnerable. It’s care, not catastrophe. A pause can deprive us of the usual but offer something primal: time to come back to right here, right now.

Keep a tiny piece of bread—literal or metaphorical—to share. Write a love note, brush your hair with tenderness, email a friend the replay of this call. Little pieces of bread matter.

Closing: Ridiculously Grounded, Creatively Connected

“You’re the kind of people who want to make that shift in your body and psyche… what you’re doing is so important.”

We’re not going dancing on Sunday, so we’ll meet here more often, maybe stand fifteen yards apart in the park making funny faces, maybe hop on Zoom and tap together. Grounded first, creative second.

Thank you for being the circle. Thank you for modeling calm that ripples outward. Our inbox—support @ thrivingnow .com—is open. If something in your heart whispers, “Share this,” pass the bread.

We’ll meet again soon. Until then, feel your feet, hum to your vagus nerve, and remember: you are safe, and you are loved.