In this post we explore a question many of us may sense but rarely voice: what if our nervous systems weren’t built for constant growth and acceleration? Join us as we reconsider what true thriving looks like, shifting from endless busyness to genuine presence and deep alignment.
September 12, 2025
Yesterday, as I sat quietly with my morning tea, something inside me felt unsettled.
It wasn’t agitation over anything specific, but rather a subtle sense of depletion I couldn’t quite place.
The feeling wasn’t new. I recognized it like an old friend I had been quietly avoiding.
In that moment, looking out my window over the French countryside, I began to wonder about growth and scale and the endless pursuit of expansion that we seem to accept as necessary, even essential.
And a question surfaced: What if the nervous system, this intricate part of our human experience, was never meant to scale at all?
I sat with that idea, feeling into it carefully.
Our bodies, after all, were designed thousands of years ago to manage stress in short, intense bursts.
There would be a moment of danger, followed by rest, and eventually, calm.
Today, though, calm feels strangely elusive, almost like a luxury we remember vaguely from childhood.
I sat with that idea, feeling into it carefully.
Our bodies, after all, were designed thousands of years ago to manage stress in short, intense bursts.
There would be a moment of danger, followed by rest, and eventually, calm.
Today, though, calm feels strangely elusive, almost like a luxury we remember vaguely from childhood.
Instead, what we have is a low hum of stress, quiet and constant, the kind that settles quietly into our lives.
I feel it when my inbox fills faster than I can clear it, when back-to-back meetings leave no space to breathe, and when rest itself begins to feel strangely uncomfortable, as though something is missing or forgotten.
Outwardly, it all appears manageable, sometimes even admirable. Yet beneath the careful appearance of competence, there is a quiet sense of erosion.
It shows up in those moments when joy feels slightly out of reach, when a lingering fatigue remains despite having slept well, or when focus seems just harder to find.
And I began to understand this as the cost of constant growth.
The subtle toll we pay, often without realizing it, in exchange for chasing ever-expanding goals and expectations.
It’s the price of believing we must always be more, achieve more, scale more, even when our bodies gently tell us something different.
So perhaps impact isn't necessarily about scale, but about something more profound and sustaining.
Perhaps it lies in the depth of our presence, the richness of our attention, and our ability to remain genuinely connected, not just to others, but to ourselves.
When I take a moment to pause now, I simply notice: How does my mind feel? How does my body feel? What about my energy?
These small, honest questions help guide me back into coherence, into a gentle alignment with something deeply human, rather than simply productive.
Maybe our nervous systems, with their ancient rhythms, aren’t asking us to continually expand outward, but instead inviting us to return inward.
Maybe they’re quietly reminding us that real thriving happens not in endless growth, but in moments of genuine connection, integration, and rest.
When I consider this possibility without any expectation of being right or wrong, I sense something important shifting.
It’s subtle and at the same time, immensely powerful. It’s as though in simply noticing, I have begun to rewrite what thriving means for myself.
And curiously, I wonder if this resonates for you as well.
By Petra Brunnbauer
Petra Brunnbauer is an award-winning Mind-Body Coach, founder of The Jōrni®, host of the globally-ranked Jōrni Podcast, and author of The Functional Freeze Formula™. With a Master’s in Psychology and as a doctoral student in Mind-Body Medicine, Petra is committed to advancing holistic approaches to health and healing.