* In my previous essay - Not Every Troy Is Ready to Hear Cassandra, I wrote about what it means to have a brain that never stops scanning for patterns. This one is about what I do when that same brain needs to stop.
In the past, I used to race in sailing regattas quite often. They can be truly demanding, especially when the weather turns rough or when you have a crew of ambitious, highly competitive people whose only goal is to win at any cost. I am competitive too. But I also know how to stop for a moment, steal a few seconds for myself, notice a seagull, a dolphin, feel the wind, the sun, the sea, and genuinely enjoy it. And of course I want to win. But if we don't win or don't achieve the result we hoped for, I've never made a drama out of it. To me, it has always been a lesson for the future: where did we make a mistake, and what could we have done better?
Before or after the race, or nowadays whenever I'm out sailing and the weather is beautiful, I have a habit of sitting quietly and calming myself. The endless blue has a way of calming me, just like the gentle rocking of the boat and the sound of the waves. The salt you breathe in with every breath, its scent carried through the air, the waves, the sheets squealing under tension, the sail softly rippling in the wind. I can sit there for quite a while, and my friend always asks me: "Are you sitting there thinking, or are you just sitting?" I always answer: "I'm just sitting." And that's all.
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Only later did I discover that these moments actually have a name. Glimmers. They are small, almost unnoticeable moments that make you feel safe, calm, and connected: sunlight, a hug, birds singing, the smell of coffee or tea, a smile... What makes glimmers unique is that you have to look for them consciously. They don't appear on their own - you teach your mind to notice them. One sip of tea while sitting in the sun won't erase all the stress life sometimes brings. But every one of those tiny moments of safety strengthens the resilience of our nervous system because glimmers have a cumulative effect. It's like making small deposits into a savings account - over time, they grow into a substantial reserve of inner peace.
What matters especially to me is that glimmers are not toxic positivity. They are pure biology. The moment you notice a glimmer, your nervous system begins shifting toward a state of safety. Stress hormones start to settle, the vagus nerve becomes more active, and your heart rate can slow. In other words, your body begins a rapid biological reset.
Unlike these quiet glimmers, we also have their complete opposite - triggers that hit us automatically and overwhelm our nervous system. The emotional centre of the brain, the amygdala, reacts within milliseconds, long before the rational part of our brain even has time to understand what has happened. That's why we suddenly feel tense, our heart starts racing, or our stomach tightens. Triggers make us experience stress before anything has actually happened. They anchor us in the past because they almost always feed on old wounds and old trauma. When a trigger is activated, we are no longer fully present in the current moment. Our nervous system is reliving an old story. Glimmers are what gently bring us back to reality and tell our body:"That was then. You are safe now."
This game of hide-and-seek between stress and peace inside our bodies is not just a subjective feeling, it has a solid scientific foundation. The concept was popularized by psychotherapist Deb Dana, building on Stephen Porges' Polyvagal Theory. The theory explains how our autonomic nervous system constantly scans the environment through a process called neuroception, searching for signs of danger or safety. When we are caught by triggers, the system automatically shifts us into a state of fight or flight—or, in some cases, into a state of freeze and helplessness. When these states persist over time, they can contribute to burnout. Deb Dana showed that glimmers are actually biological keys that unlock a state of safety and social connection. They send a direct message to our subconscious radar: "You are safe."
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Glimmers have become my greatest strength whenever I need to pause and simply feel. That's how I recharge, using my own fast charger. Especially during life's more challenging seasons.
You don't have to go sailing to find glimmers. They are already here, in the present moment. An ordinary candle on the table and the quiet dance of its flame can be enough to make you stop and breathe. A blackbird hiding beneath a tree to escape the intense summer heat. The sparrows bringing pieces of bread onto my terrace, nibbling at them while somehow "chatting" with me. Or the scent of my jasmine when it blooms in summer.
And so, simply gazing at greenery or the endless blue while holding a cup of tea in the sunshine is enough to reset me and remind me what truly matters in my life. Maybe we cannot choose how fast our minds think. But we can choose how we take care of ourselves while our minds are already running several steps ahead of everyone else. And sometimes, a simple cup of tea in the sunshine is the best reminder that life is not only about what is coming next, but also about what we are living today.