In Rainbow Springs, we are lucky to live surrounded by rivers, trees, and open sky. Life here moves a little slower—and in a world that’s always rushing, that’s a gift.
But even in the quiet, stress can sneak in. The mind races. The body aches. We carry old stories, worries, and emotions that don’t have anywhere to go. You see, we tend to think of stress as relating to outer circumstances, but truly stress has more to do with what we are thinking/feeling than to what really is going on out there.
Worry, angst and even boredom, can be mental habits, or tendencies that just repeat in a loop in our heads. Whatever we do on a routinely basis, our bodies become accustomed to that, and like a trained puppy, the mind will tend to recreate that loop even when there is nothing to worry about.
Other times, we get pulled into fear—hooked by the constant stream of news. I’ve found myself watching updates on conflict and catastrophe, then stepping outside into the stillness of a Dunnellon night. It’s jarring. One moment, the world feels like it’s falling apart. The next, I’m surrounded by silence and stars. What am I doing to myself?
Of course, we need to stay informed. But there’s a fine line between awareness and overload. The news cycle feeds on urgency and adrenaline—and if we’re not careful, it robs us of our peace.
I remember visiting an uncle who kept the news on 24/7—even while he slept. You could feel the tension in him. Fear, anger, worry. I had to ground myself with a few deep breaths just to stay open while listening. It reminds me to be aware of the addictive power of fear.
This addiction is a real thing, there are studies that show how emotions creat a specific biochemistry in our bodies which the body becomes accustomed to, and if for some reason you have been to much at peace lately the mind will look for something to worry to create that chemical conditioner that is used too.
Then there are the quieter moments.
Working at my desk, I often look up from the screen and catch a glimpse of a bird gliding through the air. I watch as it lands in the yard, and something in me settles. A quiet joy rises. The landing looks so easeful, so unforced. Graceful—not because the bird tries, but because it trusts the moment.
Those moments remind me why I’m grateful to live here. Nature has a way of bringing me back to myself. It invites me to pause—to breathe—to return to stillness.
And yet, stillness can be uncomfortable. When we’re used to noise and tension, slowing down can confront us with everything we’ve been avoiding. That’s why it takes effort to disconnect—not just from the world, but from the internal habits of agitation.
So what to do, how to break free from the cycle of agitation. Well, often the answer is easy, engage in disengaging practices. This mean doing things that disconnect you from the worry-loop and reconnect you with your 5 senses and the world of sensory experience. It start with one moment of pausing, like for example, drinking your morning coffee in the garden, or incorporating a 20 min gentle stretching routine at midday before lunch. Any practice that takes you out of your head and puts you in touch with your senses.
So if you’re feeling tense, anxious, or overwhelmed lately, I invite you to do something simple:
Turn off the noise. Step outside. Feel the air. Watch a bird land.
Let yourself land, too.
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