
Transcript · Download MP3 · Download MP4
Invitation
Unsettled. I knew what that felt like. As a perfectionist “good boy” kid, a lot unsettled me.
I remember being told, “Settle down!” But who actually shows us how—beyond “sit down, stay still, be quiet”?
Settling is a skill we can learn. Many of us simply were not taught.
And there was another missing piece for me. As I settled my energy into my body and brought my mind back toward what mattered, I also needed to strengthen.
If I settled without strengthening, I could feel lower in power—quieter, perhaps, but also weaker, smaller, or more collapsed. Who wants to feel weaker? Not me.
Settling and strengthening together is different. We are not forcing ourselves down, draining away our life force, or pretending to be calm. We are allowing some of the swirl to settle while feeling for support, structure, choice, capacity, and aliveness.
The world will shake us. Other people will shake us. Our bodies and our own thoughts will shake us. Sometimes we will shake ourselves.
This skill helps us come back—not to perfect calm, but to a more settled strength from which we can meet what is real.
When Life Shakes the Jar
Imagine a sturdy glass jar with water, sand, pebbles, and a few rocks inside. It rests on your desk, clear and peaceful. Then something shakes it.
The sand flies. The rocks knock around. The water clouds.
That is what unsettled can feel like inside us.
Sometimes the shake is objectively enormous. Sometimes it is a small event that lands in exactly the right place to activate fear, uncertainty, urgency, or self-blame. The size of the shaker does not reliably predict how much the nervous system will move.
Our first freedom is noticing without indictment:
Oh. I am shaken.
My system is unsettled.
This is where I am right now.
That is not surrendering to chaos. It is giving ourselves an honest starting place.
Trying to force a shaken jar to settle usually means grabbing it and stirring it some more. We do the same thing internally when we insist:
- I should be calm by now.
- I know better than this.
- Stop feeling this.
- Just take a breath and relax!
Pressure adds another shake. Shame adds another shake. The demand to settle immediately may be the very thing keeping us stirred up.
Settling begins more naturally when we stop overpowering what is here.
Tapping: “I Should Have”
Self-blame often arrives when we are already shaken: I should have known. I should have checked. I should have handled it differently. A “should” can become another source of agitation.
Use your own true words. This round does not require you to approve of what happened. It makes room to meet where you are and recover access to your possibilities.
Side of the Hand: Even though I should have… and I didn’t… dang. Now what? This is where I am, and I’m open to settling myself anyway.
Even though part of me keeps insisting I should have known or done better, that pressure is not helping me now. I’m open to giving myself a little room.
Even though I don’t yet know what to do, I can be here with myself while I find the next useful step.
Top of the Head: I didn’t.
Eyebrow: I should have.
Side of the Eye: Now I’m all unsettled.
Under the Eye: And I do not like how this feels.
Under the Nose: But it is where I am.
Chin: I can acknowledge that without making it worse.
Collarbone: I’m open to settling a little.
Under the Arm: It is an invitation, not a requirement.
Top of the Head: I would like access to more of my possibilities.
Eyebrow: Even while I do not know yet.
Side of the Eye: Maybe self-blame does not have to run this moment.
Under the Eye: Maybe I can let the facts be the facts.
Under the Nose: I can notice what needs tending now.
Chin: I can learn later without punishing myself now.
Collarbone: Settling enough to see my choices.
Under the Arm: Strengthening enough to take the next useful step.
Take a breath in whatever way feels natural. Notice whether anything has shifted—even from 100 to 99.
Settling Is a Transition, Not a Switch
Many of us were taught to expect instant state changes. Close your eyes and sleep. Sit down and focus. Stop crying and be fine. Begin meditating and immediately become peaceful.
When that does not happen, we may conclude that we are bad at being human.
But a nervous system often needs time to transition. The mind may need to wiggle. The body may need to discharge energy. Feelings may need to be acknowledged before they stop demanding all our attention.
There is a profound difference between controlling the breath and being with the breath.
You do not need to manufacture a deep breath. You can notice this inhale, whatever it is. You can notice this exhale. Perhaps there is a sigh. Perhaps there is a huff. Perhaps the breath does not change at all.
The practice is companionship, not control.
Sometimes the system begins settling precisely because it realizes no one is going to force it.
Learn Your Own Way of Settling
There is no universally correct settling posture.
If you are pacing in an anxious loop, sitting or lying down might change the state enough to help. If you are frozen or collapsed, standing, walking, wiggling, stomping, or shaking out your hands might bring back the movement your system needs.
The real skill is not obeying a generic instruction. It is learning yourself:
- Is this a moment for stillness or movement?
- Would contact with a chair or floor feel supportive?
- Does my body want to stretch, curl, stand, pace, or shake?
- Would tapping one point give the nervous system a different signal?
- What helps me become one percent more here?
We do not always get it “right.” Trying, noticing, and adjusting is the practice.
Tapping: When “Settle Down” Felt Like Pressure
Perhaps settling was demanded impatiently. Perhaps adults expected you to know how while offering no usable model. Perhaps quietness was praised while your actual inner experience was ignored.
This round separates the old demand from the skill you can learn now.
Side of the Hand: Even though I learned early that I was supposed to settle myself, no one really showed me how, and I felt their impatience.
Even though I could not copy what they were asking for—especially when they were not settled either—I blamed myself for not knowing.
Even though part of me still hears “settle down” as pressure, I’m open to learning what settling and strengthening can mean for me now.
Top of the Head: It was disorienting.
Eyebrow: I was expected to know how.
Side of the Eye: And that pressure did not help me settle.
Under the Eye: I thought something was wrong with me.
Under the Nose: No one said my mind could be busy at first.
Chin: No one said transition could take time.
Collarbone: What if my unsettledness was not failure?
Under the Arm: What if my system was trying to find its way?
Top of the Head: It is busy in here sometimes.
Eyebrow: I can listen without believing every thought.
Side of the Eye: My mind is trying to do something important.
Under the Eye: Maybe it is protecting, preparing, or avoiding.
Under the Nose: I do not have to silence it by force.
Chin: I can be with this mind and this body.
Collarbone: I can allow one small transition.
Under the Arm: At a pace that respects me.
Top of the Head: Learning my own settling.
Eyebrow: Feeling for my own strengthening.
Side of the Eye: Not collapsing to make someone comfortable.
Under the Eye: Not performing calmness.
Under the Nose: Letting support reach me.
Chin: Letting some of my strength remain.
Collarbone: Settling and strengthening together.
Under the Arm: Practicing, not proving.
Take a gentle breath. Let your eyes notice the room. Feel for one place where your body meets support.
Quiet Is Not the Same as Settled
A child can become very still because life force has drained away. An adult can look calm while frozen, submissive, absent, or performing wellness.
That is why strengthening belongs here.
Settling without strengthening can feel like:
- Going limp or blank.
- Making ourselves smaller.
- Silencing needs or expression.
- Losing access to anger, clarity, or choice.
- Becoming easier for someone else to manage.
We may soften without disappearing. We may become quieter while remaining present. We may feel more supported and more capable at the same time.
Strengthening is not bracing. It is not hardening into a fight. It might feel like subtle length through the spine, more room across the chest, a clearer boundary, or the sense that we are still here with options.
The invitation is not “calm down.” It is:
Can I let some of this settle while keeping access to myself?
Let Gravity Do Some of the Work
One doorway is almost comically simple: Is gravity working?
Do you have to hold yourself above the chair, or can the chair carry a little more of your weight? Can the floor receive your feet? Can one tight muscle reduce its effort by two percent?
Constant muscular tension sends a constant message: Keep working. Stay ready. Do not let go.
When a contact point receives support, something upstream may respond. The legs settle. The shoulders float. The jaw unwinds. The brain has a little more room.
Then feel for strengthening—not by tightening everything again, but by noticing structure. Your spine, bones, connective tissue, heart, and energy already have form. You do not have to hold yourself together entirely through muscular effort.
Try this now:
- Notice three places where your body is being supported.
- Let one contact point receive one percent more support.
- Feel for a subtle uprightness or inner length.
- Ask, “Do I feel more capable, less capable, or simply different?”
- Adjust. Your body’s answer matters more than the instruction.
Settling Can Mean Being With Yourself
Sometimes settling is not downward. It is inward.
When we are vulnerable—especially after asking for help—our mind may know support is coming while our heart still feels uncertain. A hand over the heart or another comforting place can say:
I am with you.
You are not abandoned with this.
We can be here while we wait.
The strengthening may be a sense of presence expanding from the heart. It may be a firmer inner companionship. It may simply be the recognition that we are not leaving ourselves alone with what hurts.
This is co-regulation from within—not a claim that we should never need anyone. Settled strength can help us make a clear request, wait for an answer, and discern who is able to meet us.
Unsettled Is Information
A swirling mind is not always random. Sometimes it creates white noise so we will not notice a feeling, a reality, or a difficult choice.
Instead of accusing ourselves of avoidance, we can become curious:
- Is there something I do not want to feel?
- Is there a reality I do not want to acknowledge?
- What does my system believe will happen if I stop staying busy?
- What feels too costly, painful, or dangerous to face right now?
Awareness does not obligate us to confront everything. Avoidance has intelligence. Sometimes it preserves capacity until we have resources, support, or safer conditions.
The freedom is having more choice about what we avoid—and learning to face what matters with settled strength rather than being dragged toward it by shame.
Tapping: When My Mind Creates White Noise
This round honors avoidance without handing it every decision.
Side of the Hand: Even though my mind can create a lot of white noise, it may be trying to keep me away from something that feels too much.
Even though I’m not going to give up avoiding—that would not always be wise—I want more awareness and choice about what I avoid.
Even though part of me does not want to go there, I’m open to facing what matters with more settled strength, when I have the resources.
Top of the Head: My mind can do so many things.
Eyebrow: And unsettled is a clue.
Side of the Eye: I do not have to go there right now.
Under the Eye: I am still allowed to avoid.
Under the Nose: Avoidance may be protecting something tender.
Chin: I can respect that protection.
Collarbone: And become more aware of what it is doing.
Under the Arm: No promises. No requirements.
Top of the Head: What if I could settle while I notice?
Eyebrow: What if I could strengthen before I face it?
Side of the Eye: I might need support, time, or a boundary.
Under the Eye: I might decide this is not mine to handle today.
Under the Nose: Or I may find one small honest step.
Chin: I want choice over what I avoid.
Collarbone: I want capacity for what matters.
Under the Arm: Settled enough to notice. Strong enough to choose.
Take a breath. Notice whether curiosity feels available—or whether respectful distance is the wiser choice right now.
When Settling Has Not Felt Safe
Some nervous systems learned through experience that relaxing was dangerous. Perhaps frightening things happened when vigilance dropped. Perhaps rest was interrupted, vulnerability was punished, or the surrounding environment was unpredictable.
The body may still carry the conclusion:
You were relaxing, and look what happened.
That is not irrational nonsense to crush. It is learned protection.
Settling does not prove that a person or situation is safe. It does not require lowering every boundary. We can settle enough to perceive more clearly while still recognizing real danger, incompatibility, or uncertainty.
If your present surroundings are safer than the past, let your senses gather current evidence slowly. Look around. Notice exits, supportive objects, light, distance, and who is or is not present. Let your eyes actually see now rather than demanding that your body accept a reassuring statement.
We do not have to settle all the way for the practice to count. One percent more room is new information for the nervous system.
Tapping: “You Can’t Make Me Settle”
Refusal can be an honest and potent doorway. It gives voice to the part that associates settling with coercion, failure, punishment, invisibility, or danger.
Side of the Hand: Even though I’m not going to settle—and you can’t make me—I’m still okay.
Even though settling has felt hard, unsafe, or demanded of me, I do not have to force myself now.
Even though part of me wants rest and another part refuses, both parts belong here. I wonder whether settling one percent might be safer now than it used to be.
Top of the Head: It used to be a demand.
Eyebrow: Sometimes there was punishment behind it.
Side of the Eye: They pushed me so hard to settle.
Under the Eye: And I felt like a failure.
Under the Nose: I do not like being told what to do.
Chin: Maybe resistance helped preserve me.
Collarbone: I really do not want to settle.
Under the Arm: And I am allowed to tell the truth about that.
Top of the Head: Perhaps my refusal has strength in it.
Eyebrow: Strength I do not want to lose.
Side of the Eye: I can keep my choice.
Under the Eye: I can keep my boundaries.
Under the Nose: Settling does not mean surrendering discernment.
Chin: Rest does not mean becoming unavailable to myself.
Collarbone: I might let in one percent more support.
Under the Arm: Only if that feels right to me.
Top of the Head: I’m not going to settle, and you can’t make me.
Eyebrow: And maybe I’m settling a little anyway.
Side of the Eye: Not because I was forced.
Under the Eye: Because I have choice now.
Under the Nose: Keeping my life force.
Chin: Feeling for my strength.
Collarbone: Letting this be gradual.
Under the Arm: From 100 to 99 counts.
Take a natural breath. Look around and notice what is true now. You do not have to declare yourself safe. Simply notice what your senses report.
Settle Out of One Mode and Strengthen Into Another
Settling is not always stopping. Sometimes it is a conscious transition between roles and states.
We can settle out of work and strengthen into family time. Settle out of caregiving and strengthen into rest. Settle out of social engagement and strengthen into solitude. Settle out of sleep and strengthen into the day.
A small transition ritual can help:
- Walk to another room before answering the next demand.
- Wash your hands and feel the water.
- Rest or reset your eyes.
- Drink something and notice receiving it.
- Change posture or clothing.
- Name the role you are leaving and the one you are choosing.
Rest may carry old meanings: lazy, irresponsible, unavailable, selfish. Words such as resetting, replenishing, or recharging may offer a truer frame—not as positive spin, but as recognition that restoration strengthens our capacity.
We are not machines, yet even our machines are allowed to recharge.
A Body Experiment in Settled Strength
Settled does not mean limp. This practice lets your body experience the difference.
- Make a gentle fist without hurting yourself.
- Notice the effort, tension, and readiness in your hand and forearm.
- Shake the hand out.
- Stop and notice the small movements that continue as it settles.
- Feel that the hand still has structure and capacity. It did not disappear.
- Explore a little movement through the fingers and wrist. Notice whether softening expands your available range.
- Imagine that quality moving into the forearm, shoulders, chest, jaw, spine, or feet.
Ask:
What would one percent more settled feel like here?
What would one percent more strengthened feel like?
Do those qualities want stillness, movement, contact, space, or something else?
Your answer can change from day to day. Learning that range is part of the skill.
Being Seen Without Staying in Crisis
For some of us, crisis was when people finally paid attention. Intensity became a way to be heard, helped, understood, or taken seriously.
If settling seems to threaten visibility, of course part of us may refuse. It may fear:
If I am not visibly suffering, no one will know I need care.
If I stop escalating, I will disappear.
Settled strength does not require pretending everything is fine. It can support a clearer, truer reveal:
- “I could really use your help.”
- “I want you to understand that this is affecting me.”
- “Are you available to listen?”
- “I am not okay, and I am choosing how to share that.”
We also gain discernment about who can receive our vulnerability. Being more settled does not make every person trustworthy. Emotional freedom includes choosing what to reveal, to whom, when, and why.
Practice is different from “fake it till you make it.” Practice tells the truth about where we are while building capacity for another possibility. Performance asks the body to live a lie.
Practices for Living This Skill
Catch one branch point
Choose one ordinary moment—traffic, waiting, an interruption, a technology frustration, a transition—where you can notice the fork between escalating and settling one percent. The aim is not perfect regulation. It is building another available pathway.
Ask what kind of settling fits
Try stillness, movement, tapping, contact, sensory orientation, or a request for help. Notice what your system responds to rather than imposing what “should” work.
Pair every settling cue with strengthening
When you soften, also feel for spine, feet, heart, boundary, purpose, or choice. Let your body learn that settling does not require disappearing.
Create a transition ritual
Use one small repeatable action to move between roles. Let it mean: I am settling out of that, and strengthening into this.
Notice without faking
If you are not settled, tell yourself the truth. If you cannot access calm, look for one percent more room, support, choice, or capacity. That is real practice.
Bringing It Into Your Life
Settling and strengthening is not a permanent state we achieve. Life will shake us again.
The skill is becoming more able to recognize what is happening, stop adding unnecessary pressure, learn what our body needs, preserve our life force, and return toward choice.
Some days the shift will be obvious. Some days it will be 100 to 99. Some days the most settled and strong thing will be to ask for help, leave, protect ourselves, move our body, or admit that we cannot settle yet.
Every honest branch point builds capacity.
We are not practicing so that nothing affects us. We are practicing so that when life moves through the jar, more of us remains available for what matters.
Settling. Strengthening. Returning.
Continue the Conversation
Questions, reflections, and real-life examples are welcome. Continue the conversation about Settling & Strengthening in the Thriving Now Center.
