Glimmers in Uncertain Times: A Somatic Reflection on Small Joys and Nervous System Resourcing
This week, like everyone living in Israel, I found myself moving through days and nights punctuated by sirens.
Sleep interrupted.
Conversations paused in the middle.
Bodies learning again the choreography of quickly finding shelter.
In those moments, the nervous system does what it is designed to do: it moves toward survival.
Alertness increases.
Muscles tense.
Attention narrows.
And after several days of this rhythm — sirens, uncertainty, fragmented sleep — many people notice the quiet consequences: exhaustion, irritability, emotional swings, difficulty concentrating, or a lingering sense of unease in the body.
These are not personal weaknesses.
They are intelligent responses of a nervous system doing its best to protect us.
And yet, even in the midst of this, something else is also possible.
Small moments that soften the edges.
A friendly dog wandering into the shelter and letting people pet him while we wait for the all-clear.
A bright flower pushing through a crack in the pavement.
The relief of hearing a neighbor’s voice.
A brief moment of sunlight warming your face.
In trauma-informed somatic work, we sometimes call these moments glimmers.
What Are Glimmers?
The term glimmers was introduced by therapist and nervous system educator Deb Dana as the opposite of triggers.
Triggers activate threat responses in the nervous system.
Glimmers, on the other hand, are small cues of safety, beauty, connection, or goodness that help the nervous system shift — even slightly — toward regulation.
They are often subtle.
A sound.
A color.
A sensation.
A moment of warmth between people.
Especially during stressful times, glimmers can easily pass unnoticed. Our brains are naturally wired to scan for danger.
But this is where a gentle practice becomes powerful: learning to actively notice them.
The Brain Learns From What We Pay Attention To
Neuropsychologist Rick Hanson, in his book Neurodharma, describes a simple but profound principle:
The brain is like Velcro for negative experiences and Teflon for positive ones.
Threat sticks easily.
Pleasant experiences often slide right by.
From an evolutionary perspective, this makes sense. Our ancestors survived by quickly detecting danger.
But in modern life — especially in times of prolonged stress — this negativity bias can leave our nervous system feeling chronically overwhelmed.
The good news is that the brain also has neuroplasticity: it can change through experience.
When we consciously notice positive or regulating experiences — and allow ourselves to feel them for a few extra moments — we help the brain encode them more deeply.
In other words: we help safety “stick”.
Anchoring Glimmers in the Body
Simply noticing a pleasant moment is helpful.
But in somatic work we can go one step further: anchoring the experience in the body.
Imagine you are sitting in a shelter and someone’s dog comes over to you. He looks at you, you gently pet his fur.
Instead of letting the moment pass quickly, you might pause for a few breaths and ask yourself:
What do I feel in my hands as I touch his soft fur and look to his friendly eyes?
Does my breath change even slightly?
Is there warmth somewhere in my chest?
A small softening in the shoulders?
You are not forcing positivity.
You are simply allowing the body to register that this moment, right now, contains something safe or pleasant.
Even 10–20 seconds of conscious awareness can help the nervous system absorb that experience more fully.
Over time, these moments accumulate.
Like small drops filling a reservoir.
Training a Muscle of Attention
This is not about pretending everything is fine.
Especially these days.
We all are under-slept, many people ar on the edge.
The uncertainty is real.
Fear, anger, and grief move through the collective atmosphere.
Sensitive nervous systems often feel this even more strongly.
Noticing glimmers does not mean ignoring these realities or suppressing difficult emotions.
In fact, healthy nervous systems are capable of both:
feeling the weight of what is happening and sensing moments of goodness that still exist alongside it.
Think of it like training a muscle.
The more often we gently bring attention to moments of safety, beauty, connection, or relief, the more available those pathways become in the brain.
Little by little, the nervous system learns:
Not everything is threat.
There are also places to rest.
For Sensitive Women
Many of the women I work with are deeply sensitive.
They notice subtle changes in atmosphere, in people, in environments.
This sensitivity can feel overwhelming in times of collective stress.
But it also carries a quiet gift.
Sensitive nervous systems are often exceptionally capable of perceiving beauty, connection, and subtle goodness — the very ingredients of glimmers.
A flower on the sidewalk.
The kindness of a stranger.
The rhythm of the sea.
These moments may seem small, but when received fully, they become nourishment for the nervous system.
A Gentle Practice
If you like, you might experiment with a simple question:
Where is one small glimmer right now?
Maybe:
the taste of your tea
the sound of birds outside the window
the feeling of your feet on the ground
the warmth of the sun
a smile from someone passing by
When you notice it, stay with the sensation for a few breaths.
Let your body feel it. Let it land.
Even in uncertain times, life continues to offer small signals of safety and beauty.
Like wildflowers growing in unexpected places.
And sometimes, simply noticing them — and allowing them to touch the body — can help us remember that we are still here.
Still breathing.
Still capable of moments of ease.