How We Learn to Breathe Together Again

Dear friend,

We don’t need to speak right away.
We just need to breathe.

And yet—look around.
No one is breathing.
Everyone is bracing.

This week has been gutting.
But so was last week. So was the one before that.

Political violence has become a currency in our collective nervous system, and we don’t know how to metabolize it anymore—so we react.

Or we shut down.
Or we divide.

We’ve created a society obsessed with nervous system language but devoid of real nervous system practice.

We speak of trauma-informed care, but we forget the care.

We talk about co-regulation, but we’ve stopped actually reaching for each other.

We’ve mistaken opinion for intimacy. We’ve mistaken performance for presence. We’ve mistaken greater access for greater connection.

And I wonder:

When was the last time you were actually able to breathe in front of someone who didn’t vote like you?

When was the last time you softened in the presence of someone who didn’t love like you?

When was the last time you actually held someone you don’t understand—and tended to them anyway?

This is not a call to bypass.
It’s a call to become more human again.

To remember what connection actually feels like in the body.

To admit that regulation doesn’t happen in silos.

To name that healing never happens in a vacuum.

Yes, we need positions and platforms.
Yes, we need boundaries and accountability.

And we also need to learn how to breathe together again.

We need someone to look us in the eye and say:

I will not make you my enemy. Even when I don’t agree. Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts. We don’t have to disappear to each other to survive.

We are co-regulating less—particularly with those who don’t believe like us.

And power over energy is rising.

Not just in governments—but in conversations.
Not just in politics—but in relationships.
Not just in systems—but in us.

All of us.

But this is not the end of the story.

We can still choose to sit down next to each other,
put our armor on the table, let our shoulders drop,
And courageously say:

We’ll find our way through this. Together.
Not because we agree. But because we remember what it means to be alive with each other.

This is where courage begins.
Not in being right.
But in being with.

From my heart to yours,

Practice Postscript

Where the letter stops being read—and starts being lived.

The Reflection:

When you find yourself bracing this week—pause.
Don’t power through it. Just pause. And ask:

• Who (or what) am I protecting myself from right now?

• What would happen if I breathed through this moment instead of reacted to it?

• Who in my life have I stopped softening in front of?

• What kind of safety do I want to offer and receive in conversation?

• Can I imagine offering co-regulation—not agreement—to someone who sees the world differently than me?

The Everyday Practice:

When the keyboard warrior rage rises, pause before you post. Breathe in…breathe out. And once more.

Ask: am I reacting? responding? co-regulating?