The Sea Doesn’t Stop Sparkling
Sometimes my life feels like a dream.
Since moving to a city by the sea, I’ve made it a ritual to greet the mornings outside. One day last week, I wandered down to the beach, past a makeshift outdoor gym where locals were lifting stones from the shore instead of weights. I carefully crawled over a smattering of rocks to reach the edge of the pier, just past a few men fishing quietly for their breakfast, where a group had gathered to set intentions for the day.
I laid out my blanket. We began with breathwork, inhale for two, exhale for four, and then I lay back under the sun as a man gently played the handpan. I drifted, weightless, somewhere between thought and stillness.
When I sat up again, the scene had shifted.
The boardwalk was now dotted with people: some rollerblading, others meandering toward their favorite spot on the sand. A few had already slipped into the sea. Sailboats moved quietly in the distance. One very determined paddleboarder cut across the horizon.
I swear the color of the water had deepened.
Even though I had just finished meditating, I stayed a few extra minutes, letting everything sink in. Maybe I needed proof that this was real. Maybe I was just anchoring in the truth: This is my new normal.
I thanked the woman who led the session. We had only just met, but she felt like an old friend. She hugged me, squeezed my hand, and sent me off with the sweetest blessing for the day ahead.
I was late for a meeting across town, and I knew I wouldn't make it in time. So instead, I wandered the cobblestone streets, window shopping, admiring the old buildings, and searching for a little bakery to grab coffee and something sweet.
But beauty doesn’t erase how fragile it can feel to exist in a world that sometimes pushes back.
Because sometimes, life feels like a nightmare.
I kept walking slowly, instinctively choosing narrow streets over main roads. I glanced in shop windows, studied pastry cases, and followed whatever piqued my curiosity. Then, as I turned onto a quieter street, I noticed an elderly man walking toward me.
As we passed, I smiled and stepped aside to give him space.
He scowled and muttered something sharp in a foreign language.
I flinched inside. Something about the tone cracked the safety of my morning open.
I tried to shake it off, but I couldn’t stop wondering what he said. I ran his words through my translator app. Nothing. I tried different language dictionaries. Still nothing.
Maybe he said something neutral. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. But it doesn’t really matter.
Because my brain had already latched on.
It was a 2 second moment that played on repeat.
Even though I found a lovely little bakery moments later, I was distracted.
Even though I passed stunning architecture and a hand-painted mural, I was wondering: Did I do something wrong?
Even though I sat by the sea with a coffee and a bag of Greek pastries, I kept looking over my shoulder.
Even though a kind older woman made conversation with me at the bus stop, I hesitated to speak, still unsure of myself.
If you've ever felt this, this moment where one small thing hijacks your peac, then you already know:
This is not about a grumpy, old man.
This is about how our brains and nervous systems are wired. Because they’re wired for vigilance.
From an evolutionary standpoint, we survive better when we remember what might hurt us. The brain prioritizes threats, even small ones, because that’s what keeps us safe.
Because the beauty, the peace, the sunny morning, and the sound of the handpan? That’s safe. So your brain doesn’t store it the same way.
But a scowl, a sharp word, or shift in energy?
Your brain takes notes.
It replays it.
Not because you're broken, but because your system is trying to protect you.
So how do we teach the brain something new? How do we shift from survival to joy?
In my hypnosis work, I help people do just that, by rewiring how the subconscious mind responds to emotion, memory, and meaning. Here are three ways to begin retraining your brain to choose beauty over fear:
1. Acknowledge the Loop
Your brain is doing its job. But now, you get to redirect it.
When a negative loop starts, pause. Take a breath. Thank your mind for trying to protect you, then gently remind it: You’re safe now.
Choose something that brings you joy, and recall it in vivid detail. Add color, sound, and sunlight.
And if the negative loop continues, you can “mute” the memory. Shrink it. Blur it. Fast forward through it. You’re not erasing your past. You’re choosing your present.
2. Anchor in the Beauty
Your nervous system is always learning, and now you get teach it what safety feels like.
When something moves you, record it. Write it. Speak it out loud. Share it.
Reliving the beautiful moments helps your brain build new neural pathways. Soon your system will begin to recognize joy as the new familiar.
3. Recognize the Pattern
That sudden fear or shrinking is not just about this moment. It’s a lifetime of quieting yourself each time you didn’t feel safe, each time you felt too big, or each time you felt like too much.
So when you feel yourself retract, ask: Is it okay to be this open? This visible? This happy?
The answer is yes.
Again and again, yes!
The sea didn’t stop sparkling because one man frowned, and neither should you.
Let your joy rise like the tide. Let your nervous system learn that peace is safe. Anchor in the sacred energy of beauty, and let that be your new normal.
This pairs well with the following hypnotic audios:
If you’d like to go deeper, please consider a custom audio just for you, or join us at The Lucid Hour.
