My Body Wants to Cocoon. My Mind Wants to Scream.

I’m managing it in 30- to 60-minute bites.

I was going to publish part two of yesterday’s post—the one about how I wasn’t resting, I was retreating.

But something deeper rose to the surface today.

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There’s a reason I haven’t had the energy to respond to comments, or finish what I started.

There’s a reason my body wants to cocoon, even while my mind is screaming to do something.

There’s a reason I feel like I could both cry and scream, then go crawl under a blanket and not come out until March.

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It’s not just personal.

It’s the collective dissonance we’re living in.

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We are watching the soul of our country rupture in real time.

Truth is being mangled. Power is being weaponized.

And cruelty is being normalized—again.

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Even my friend Mike in Australia is aware.

Because this unrest, this violence, this division—it ripples outward.

It shakes every sensitive system on the planet.

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So if you’re feeling frozen, inflamed, or fried—you’re not broken.

You’re awake.

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And if you’re struggling to reconcile what you feel with what you think you’re supposed to do…

Welcome.

You’re in the very human mess of conflicting energies.

I am too.

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Part of me wants to cocoon.

Part of me feels guilty for not doing more.

Part of me wants to light candles and call in peace.

Part of me wants to light fires and call out bullshit.

Part of me wants to stay close to my soul.

Part of me wants to storm the gates with a bullhorn.

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And none of that is wrong.

This is what it means to be alive right now.

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So here’s what I’m doing:

I’m managing it in 30- to 60-minute bites.

That’s all I can hold. That’s all most of us can hold.

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One breath at a time.

One pot of butter beans with ham and cornbread—comfort food that grounds me.

One honest post instead of the one I planned.

One glimmer of joy noticed and named.

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And actually, once I did this?

I felt more glimmers of joy.

Joy always compounds.

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Because my nervous system can’t solve a crumbling democracy.

But it can be tended.

And when I tend to it, I can hear my soul again.

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No one’s asking you to pretend everything’s okay.

But please don’t forget:

Your presence—your capacity—is a form of protest too.

Especially in a world that profits from your panic.

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I’ll publish part two soon.

But today, this was the truth I needed to live and name.

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You don’t need to be a monk or a mystic to find peace.
Sometimes you just need a good pot of beans and a breathing ritual that brings you back to yourself.

If you’re new here and don’t have the Daily Breath Ritual-yet, it’s available anytime. Quiet, simple, and always waiting.

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An Invitation

If these words landed—if you’re feeling the weight of conflicting energies and need a space that tends to the soul instead of feeding the panic—

The Daily RE‑WIRE is here.

Daily essays like this one. Monthly guides. Live sessions where we practice breathing through the chaos.

No platitudes. No toxic positivity. Just honest writing about what it takes to stay grounded when the world is on fire.

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Your nervous system matters. Your capacity matters. You matter.

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Heart it if you’re managing in bites too. Share it if someone needs to know they’re not alone in the conflicting energies.

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