What Opens Up When You Stop Thinking

I recorded this video outside, sitting in the shade on the first 90° day of the year in Houston. Morning doves, cicadas — already, and it’s only May 9th — baby squirrels, dappled light through branches that just went from stick back to tree. The whole spring orchestra showing up on schedule, not caring whether anybody was listening.

It reminded me of the pockets of wild I used to find as a kid in the ‘60s, free-range like everybody else, looking for tadpoles in little creeks with my brother, or just sitting under trees and listening to the breeze move through them. Places where the man-made world hadn’t paved over yet. Places where things opened up inside you that you didn’t know were closed.

This one is about what happens when you stop measuring, stop defining, and let your nervous system remember its own pulse. About how being a squirrel is a full-time job and being you is too. And about the strange, almost disorienting sanity of finding out that your natural vibratory rate is pretty harmonic with the world — once you shut off the ten radios.

Watch the full video → on YouTube

If you want to explore what this feels like in your own body, I work with people one-on-one — delia@deliayeager.live.

“Things open up inside of you that you didn’t know were closed.”

“Being a squirrel is a full-time job. Being you is too.”

“Nature has its own pulse. A pulse that the modern world is determined to override. But it’s also your pulse.”

“It’s like shutting off ten TVs and radios at once.”