Beyond nervous system "regulation"

on passion, birthright, and responsible co-nurturing

A few weeks ago in a gathering in The River, I confronted yet another edge of my awareness.

I started a session on "self-regulation" feeling calm and grounded (what’s typically labeled as "regulated"). This session was within the context of our month’s theme on synchronicities—because being “self-regulated” helps us pay more attention to the mystical winks that may offer us guidance, connection and pathways to new possibilities.

As we got deeper into discussion, people started sharing how nervous system regulation felt like a privilege that they didn’t always have access to, especially compared to those who have more time to be still, move slow, or find quiet.

Hearing this framing—that having a regulated nervous system is a "privilege"—makes sense in a world where trauma, mental illness, and a lack of social resources profoundly impact people's ability to find ease or access the inherent magic that exists even in chaos. A single mother striving to care for her children while running on empty, an activist wrestling with depression and addiction while fighting for change, an invisibly disabled person navigating systems that weren’t designed for them—each may struggle to find a breath of ease in a world that feels so f*cked up. As Jiddu Krishnamurti said, "It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society."

At the same time, this belief that nervous system regulation was an inaccessible privilege activated, frustrated and unsettled me.

In the context of this discussion, I asked the group, how does the belief that "regulating my nervous system is a privilege" make you feel? The responses—heaviness, sadness, tightness, smallness—affirmed my instinct that this narrative was not serving us. I often hear the word "privilege" to describe something that some people are granted and others are denied, an exclusive pass to ease, safety, or stability. Yet, I want to steadfastly believe that regulating our nervous systems is not a privilege, but a birthright and a responsibility.

I was moved to speak up, passionately and disruptively.

We all have access to regulating our nervous systems—you're probably doing it more than you realize. If people in Gaza, Ukraine, and Sudan can regulate enough to dance, do parkour, generate electricity from wind turbines, and create art, then we, too, have access to regulation! It might look different for each of us, but it exists.

Even though “regulation” is a relatively new, science-y term, it describes an ancient, evolutionary phenomenon. Our ancestors had their own ways of regulating their nervous systems—enough for us to be here today!

Let’s not cling to beliefs that keep us feeling powerless. Regulating our nervous systems is both an inheritance and an important inner activism. Now is not the time to deny ourselves of choice and agency—especially with our own bodies!

As I spoke, my heart pounded, my voice rose, and my passion carried me. I wasn’t measured, composed or "regulated"—I was present and alive…

And then, as soon as I stopped speaking, my inner critic swooped in.

You’re on a soapbox. No one signed up for this. Why were you yelling? You were so dysregulated in a session about self-regulation!

Embarrassment, self-consciousness, and regret stirred in me. The familiarity of being "too much" crept in.

Instead of shrinking back, I leaned in. After folks had space to share their perspectives in the large group and in small break-outs, I invited people to stay after the session and co-regulate with me if they wanted. To my surprise, many did.

I asked them how my expression landed, especially for those who had voiced feeling disconnected from their access to regulate. I was met with warmth and clarity: "I needed to hear it exactly how you said it." "It made me feel seen." "You were in your power." "It was authentic."

One wise woman shared that she’s had moments of being "dysregulated" but not irresponsible—that she’s spoken truth even with sweaty palms and a racing heart. Of course! “When you're scared but you still do it anyway, that's brave,” said Neil Gaiman.

This experience cracked something open in me.

Through co-caring with fellows in The River, I saw how much internalized oppression shapes my beliefs about "regulation”—especially as a facilitator. To my inner critic, looking "regulated" feels safer because it's more "professional.” Like many, I’ve felt lots of shame for being angry, passionate, loud, or excited. Those imprints linger. When I raised my voice in the session, I assumed people would see me as aggressive, disrespectful or out of control. But those who stayed with me didn’t see it that way—they felt my heart, urgency, sincerity.

My embarrassment showed me the edges of my free expression and how little permission I sometimes give to my own passion. And yet, the aliveness I felt—and the impact it had—revealed a power within me that’s longing to have more light.

A few months ago, I proudly published an article about "the activism of nervous system regulation"—I’ve since changed it to "the activism of nervous system nurturance." I had believed that activism and leadership must (or "should") come from a "regulated" state—calm, grounded, and not contributing to collective chaos…

But I wonder if—in that belief—I was perpetuating a subtle form of perfectionism.

“Regulated” doesn’t always look calm and composed. There’s value and medicine in unhinged, passionate expression. Our ancestors may not have self-soothed through journalling or doing “box breathing.” What if “regulation” also looks like being able to twerk ecstatically, keen and wail, profess from the heart, and stomp out rage into the soil of the earth? Sometimes regulation—or regulating (a more dynamic and progress-oriented word) is practiced and fostered dynamically in our wildness, in movement, in loudness, in intensity. But from a white supremacist, colonial lens, these expressions could easily be dismissed as uncivilized, dysregulated, unprofessional, shameful.

In our conversation, the words “nervous system regulation” felt more and more constrictive. Regulation implies control, order and management, feeding a binary of regulated versus dysregulated and a hierarchy of acceptable and useful emotional states. Because the words we use can create our realities, I’ve been inspired to explore other words beyond "regulate our nervous systems” that feel more compassionate and inclusive like nervous system nurturing, grounding and centering, and resourcing.

Dear reader, how have you been centering and grounding yourself? Who and what have you been co-resourcing with?

I wish for us to remember that we are not separate from the rhythms of the earth or from the resilience and wisdom of the ancestors that got us here. May we soften into the truth that we all have the birthright and responsibility of belonging and safety, and that we can each access choice and agency, one way or another, to resource ourselves and each other.

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