News Without the Dysregulation

Begin by letting your eyes rest. If they want to close, let them close. If they want to soften their gaze toward the floor, let that happen instead. Notice the weight of your body. The places where you are supported. The chair, the cushion, the floor, the bed. And let yourself be held by what is already holding you. Take a slow breath in. And a slower breath out. One more. In. And out. With each exhale, let something small go. The grip in your jaw. The pull in your shoulders. The tension behind your eyes. You do not have to release everything at once. Just a little, with each breath. Now notice the sounds around you. The room you are in. Any small noise, near or far. And rather than pushing them away, let them become part of the landscape of relaxation. Every sound a reminder that you are here, in this body, in this moment. Bring your attention to your feet. Feel them. Soften them. Let that softening travel up through your ankles, your calves, your knees. Up through your thighs and hips, melting any holding there. Through your belly, which can move freely with each breath. Up through your chest, your back, your shoulders. Down your arms, all the way to your fingertips. And up through your neck, your face, the tiny muscles around your eyes, your forehead, your scalp. Your whole body, settling. Settling beneath the noise of the day. Beneath the headlines. Beneath the running commentary of your mind. You are still here, underneath all of it. And as you breathe, you can feel yourself sinking gently inward. Not away from the world. Just toward a quieter floor inside yourself.

Imagine you are sitting beside a wide, slow river. The bank is soft. The light is kind. The air feels easy on your skin. You are not in the river. You are beside it, comfortably seated, watching it flow. The river carries leaves. Some small, some large. Some bright, some dark. Each leaf drifts into view, travels past you, and disappears around the bend. This river is your mind. And every leaf is a thought. Some of them you recognize. Headlines you read this morning. A worry about someone you love. A flash of outrage. A flash of fear. A what if. A should. A how could they. Notice that you do not have to grab any of them. You do not have to climb into the water and chase a leaf downstream. You do not have to fight the current. You can simply sit on the bank, watching, breathing, while the water carries each thought past. Some leaves are heavier than others. Some are sticky. Some seem to call your name. And still, your job here is only to watch. To notice. To breathe. Feel the ground beneath you. Feel the steadiness of the bank. Feel how separate you are from the moving water, even as you observe it with care. This is the place we will work from. Not in the current. Beside it.

And now, with each leaf that drifts past, you go a little deeper. Deeper into rest. Deeper into the quiet beneath your thoughts. I am going to count down from ten. With each number, you settle further. Ten. Letting the riverbank hold you. Nine. Your breath slowing on its own. Eight. The leaves keep moving, and you keep softening. Seven. Twice as relaxed as a moment ago. Six. Your body heavier, your mind lighter. Five. Sinking through any leftover tension. Four. Nothing to fix. Nothing to grasp. Three. The deepest part of you becoming available. Two. Calm spreading through every cell. One. And zero. Fully here. Fully resting. In this state, your mind is open and curious. The part of you that learns quickly is awake. The part of you that defends and reacts is finally allowed to rest. Notice how good it feels to simply be the one watching the river, instead of being swept along by it.

Now I want you to bring to mind a recent moment when the news hijacked you. Maybe you opened an app first thing in the morning. Maybe a notification flashed on your screen. Maybe a friend told you something and your stomach dropped. See it from your seat on the bank. You are safe here. You are only observing. Notice the thought that arrived. Maybe it sounded like, this is terrible. Or, what if this happens to me. Or, the world is falling apart. Now, very gently, I want you to put six small words in front of that thought. I am having the thought that. So instead of the world is falling apart, you have, I am having the thought that the world is falling apart. Feel the difference. One is a verdict. The other is an event in your mind. The verdict pulls you into the river. The event lets you stay on the bank. Try it again, with another thought. I am noticing the thought that something bad will happen. I am noticing the feeling of dread in my chest. You are not denying anything. You are not pretending the news is fine. You are simply changing your relationship to the thought, so your body does not have to treat every sentence like a tiger in the room. Now imagine a particularly sticky headline. One that has been replaying. Picture it written on a single leaf, drifting toward you on the river. You see the words. You read them. You understand them. And then the current carries the leaf past. You did not have to push it away. You did not have to hold it. You simply let it pass through your awareness, as thoughts are designed to do. From this day forward, your mind learns a new pattern. When you encounter news, your body stays grounded. Your feet feel the floor. Your breath stays low and slow. Your shoulders stay soft. You can read a difficult headline and remain in your body. You can hear a difficult opinion and remain in your body. You notice the thoughts that arise without fusing with them. You notice, I am having the thought that this is dangerous. I am having the thought that I should be scared. I am having the feeling of urgency. And you let those thoughts move like leaves. You also begin to notice the urge to scroll. The pull toward the next headline, the next take, the next outrage. You notice it the way you notice a leaf. I am having the urge to keep scrolling. And often, simply naming the urge is enough. The urge becomes information rather than a command. Your attention is precious. It is yours. You decide where it goes, and for how long. You can choose to be informed. You can choose to engage. You can choose to act on what matters to you. And you can also choose to put the phone down, knowing the world will not end because you stepped away for an hour. Caring deeply does not require constant vigilance. Sustainable care comes from a regulated body and a clear mind. A panicked nervous system makes panicked decisions. A steady nervous system makes wise ones. So you give yourself permission, now and always, to consume news the way a craftsperson uses a tool. With intention. With limits. With respect for what it does to your body. You become the kind of person who reads the news and stays whole. Who knows the difference between a thought and a fact. Between a fear and a forecast. Between caring and catastrophizing. Your body remembers the riverbank. Your body remembers this stillness. And the moment you feel a headline tug at your nervous system, this place, this softness, this seat by the river, becomes available again, instantly.

Imagine yourself tomorrow morning. You wake up. Your phone is nearby. You feel that familiar pull to check the news first thing. But something is different. You notice the urge before you act on it. You take a breath. Your feet find the floor. When you do open the app, you do it on purpose. Not as a reflex. You read a headline. A heavy one. You feel something stir. A clench in your chest. A tightening in your jaw. And immediately, almost automatically, you hear yourself think, I am having the thought that this is overwhelming. I am having the feeling of fear. You are back on the bank. The leaf passes. Your breath stays steady. Your body stays yours. You read what you need to read. You take in the information. And then you set the phone down, with ease, knowing you can return when it serves you. Later that day, someone mentions a piece of frightening news. You listen. You feel. You think clearly. You do not spiral. You do not numb out. You stay engaged and grounded at the same time. See yourself tonight, lying down to sleep, your mind not racing through headlines, but quietly settling, like a river slowing at dusk. This is who you are becoming. An informed person with a regulated nervous system. A thoughtful citizen with a calm body. Let that future feel real. Let your body rehearse it now.

In a moment, I am going to count from one to five, and you will return to full waking awareness, bringing this calm and this clarity with you. One. Awareness returning to your body. Feeling the surface beneath you. Two. Energy moving gently into your hands and feet. You can wiggle your fingers and toes if you like. Three. Your breath becoming a little fuller. Your mind a little brighter. Four. The riverbank stays with you. The defusion phrases stay with you. They are yours now. Five. Eyes open when you are ready. Awake, alert, calm, and clear.

As you go on with your day, remember the simple phrase. I am having the thought that. Use it whenever a headline lands hard. Use it when worry loops. Use it when the urge to scroll takes hold. And remember the river. You are the one on the bank. Always. Caring is your strength. Regulation is how you sustain it. Come back to this session as often as you need. Each time, the new pattern grows stronger. Take care of yourself out there. The world needs people who can stay informed and stay whole. You are becoming one of them.