There is a form of danger that demands immediate response. Cortisol injects into the system, adrenaline pulses through the veins. The heart pounds, eyes dilate, muscles tense—ready for action.
If a tiger popped up in the room, it would make sense to react instantly—no overthinking, no strategizing, no contemplating feelings. Just move.
Of course, today’s tigers look different. Like an Audi driver texting his girlfriend, oblivious to you on the sidewalk as he nearly runs you over.
Yes, that’s a good time for quick action.
Or when you turn the supermarket aisle for your favorite ice cream and spot your ex, lost in the freezer section with his long-haired, perfectly sculpted new girlfriend from the gym.
Immediate turn-around.
Or that adrenaline jolt as you clutch your purse, walking through a sketchy street in the Tenderloin. A black man approaches—baggy pants, a limp, a marked face.
Yeah, that last one gets uncomfortable. Because I wrote "black guy," and that triggers the racism alarm. But let’s be real—when we’re in fight-or-flight, ingrained biases emerge. It could just as easily be a white dude in ripped jeans, but centuries of inherited fear responses don’t always check themselves at the door.
What about moving slowly in the face of danger? What about intentionally slowing the nervous system, acting with precision, breathing?
Because today’s low growl in the bush looks more like an upcoming deadline, or a meeting where you admit to the guy you’re dating that it’s not a good fit.
Or the morning firefighter routine—alarm, snooze, snooze, shit, late. Throw on clothes, slap on makeup, pour coffee into a to-go mug, dress the kids, pour their cereal, grab backpacks, sack lunches.
Kiss your hubby goodbye while already planning a Sprouts run for dinner ingredients.
Go, cortisol and adrenaline. Get that heart rate up. Hello, high blood pressure, immune depletion, and exhaustion. Not to mention the wrinkles between your eyebrows didn’t come from smiling.
Of course, all this sounds a bit binary. If you’re anything like me, you don’t have a 9-to-5 or a hubby you make dinner for.
But time itself is a cause for stress, right? No deadlines, no appointments, no flight times, no Zoom meetings—sounds like bliss.
But what if we could move fast without the cortisol spike?
Can we move quickly in the external world while staying internally slow?
Think of HIIT workouts—burpees, squats, boxing, push-ups. Fast, intense, and oddly satisfying. Maybe not during, but afterward? Endorphins flood in. That feel-good high.
What if we approached obligations—school drop-offs, reports, family reunions, lost Amazon packages—like a workout?
Stress isn’t about the task itself but the story we attach to it.
Let’s go back to the tiger. What happens if it pounces?
Go ahead, guess.
Yep. Head ripped off. Limbs licked clean. Death, in a pretty gory fashion.
Now, contrast that with being late to your Zoom meeting about the latest HeartRipple yoga pant designs.
Is your boss going to rip your head off?
The issue isn’t the task—it’s the projection.
We don’t even know what’s going to happen. The boss might scold us, we might lose our team lead position, the plane might leave, we might have to buy a bikini in Hawaii while waiting for our lost suitcase.
How bad can it really be? Are you actually going to die?
Most failures aren’t fatal. But our minds pile up every possible catastrophe, distracting us from what’s actually happening: right here, right now.
If I weren’t obsessing about my missed flight, my insurance oversight, the security line, and whether they’ll confiscate my hummus—
I could just breathe.
Calculate my speed. Ask myself, “What’s the worst that can happen?” Trust that I’ll handle it.
Then, move with focus. Approach the security line, ask the first person if I can go ahead. They smile, nod. Faith in humanity, restored.
Ditch the hummus. Buy an over priced sandwich. Enjoy the free pretzels.
Slide into my seat, heart rate up but never stressed. Because I was present.
Sometimes it’s not one thing—it’s a million. And you, the self-appointed superhero, are carrying a giant fat ogre on your head, convinced only you can handle it.
That’s the moment to pause. Breathe. Put the ogre aside to have a good bird’s eye view of it. Breathe again.
What keeps a fire burning? Not compressed logs—but air.
Breathe. Make space. Fire needs air to burn bright, not a suffocating pile of logs.
Same with the nervous system. It’s meant to undulate, not swing from Everest highs to Grand Canyon crashes. Not go-go-go, then collapse into Netflix and TikTok oblivion.
Economy of energy. Let’s go for a bunch of E’s. Not the E for ecstasy (although that could be fun—kissing your kids, prepping heart-shaped sandwiches, gushing over your boss’s earrings, squeezing your hubby’s love handles and a sweet slap one the butt on his way out the door).
No, let’s stick with these 4 E’s:
Economy—What do you ACTUALLY need to do today? Write it down.
Economize—Stay present. Stop predicting every possible outcome. It’s exhausting.
Energy—How do you get the job done with the least wasted effort?
Energetics—What energy do you bring? Can you choose joyful, grateful, or at least neutral?
As I’m elaborating on economy of energy, I find myself writing this during my layover in the Amsterdam airport, sipping my hot chocolate at ease, realizing, I may need to meander over to my next flight.
I get to the passport control line I had previously scoped out as a safe 5 min line, transformed into an endless line of hundreds of irritated travelers.
I have 7 mins. before my plane boards.
I stop. Assess. This line will take at least 30 mins.
I approach the guard, “Excuse me, do you think I’m going to be late? “ as I show him my boarding pass. “You might be able to make the flight” he says as he looks at the line.
I picture the plan of action once I am liberated from the 30 min. line. At the sound of the stamp in my passport, I break for it. Expertly weaving my way through the crowds, suitcases, wheel chairs, and incoming traffic, arriving to the gate as the doors are closing, my passport in hand, dripping sweat and collapsing in my seat as the captain announces, “ready for takeoff.”
I keep calm. The guard looks at me again. “Hold on, I’ll help you.” he says. He lifts the barrier, then another one.
A couple run up to the guard as he’s escorting me to the front, “We’re never going to make it in time!” – they frantically wave their tickets in the air. Their anger, frustration and stress is palpable. He turns frankly and says “Sorry, you have to wait” and continues to escort me to the front of the line.
I breeze past the officer as I’m smiling to myself. Not only did I get to handle the situation majestically, I proved to myself the art of staying cool in times of pressure.
I arrive to the gate with extra time to use the restroom and saunter onto the plane.
Economy of Energy is a beautiful thing.
Life isn’t about removing stressors. It’s about shifting how you move through them. Fast on the outside, calm on the inside. Dare to take an alternative route to destination.
Be Present. Focused. Unshakable.