The Work of These Times: Returning to Heart Coherence

Sometimes being alive at this time feels like the walls are slowly closing in around me.

There are moments when life feels so incredibly surreal — so very different from what I once imagined. Not only from the perspective of my younger self, but even from the woman I was just five years ago.

It is real work — real, honest-to-goddess work — to stay present in a world where the sands of change move so quickly beneath us that we can easily find ourselves feeling unsteady, uncertain, and anxious.

I will be honest. I have more sleepless nights than I like to admit. And I hear the same confession whispered back to me by others — a deep, almost soul-tired exhaustion, a restlessness that hums beneath the surface, a mind that won't quiet down despite our best self-care efforts.

Our bodies wound tight, like spinning tops waiting for the next push that might send us flying out of orbit from our own lives — the lives unfolding right in front of our noses.

As an empath, I've always felt the gravity of the world in my body — as though it is literally weighing me down. I notice how often I hold my breath, bracing myself for the next unknown, unnamed moment of trauma. Even when I cannot point to a single cause, I feel its arrival deep in my bones.

Living in the most technologically advanced time known to humankind carries both blessings and burdens.

Once, long ago, before the internet, our world was smaller. Simpler. More contained. It was shaped by the rhythm of our families, our friends, the communities we belonged to — the town or city that formed the ground of our daily experience. But now we are connected to the vastness of humanity itself, absorbing stories and suffering far beyond our lived experience. In the past, we were more insulated from what was happening beyond our small corner of the world. But now we are connected to what feels like the collective hive mind of humanity, through the technology that is at our fingertips day in and day out. Sometimes it feels like there is no escape from it, even with our best efforts.

We know too much!

The sheer volume of information we consume each day far exceeds what our ancestors might have taken in over weeks, months, years — perhaps even lifetimes. It is simply too much. Our nervous systems were never meant to hold this volume of awareness all at once. We are living and breathing information overload as normal. We need to learn to clear the cache before we invite breakdown.

Most of what we experience now is not through events we have lived, but through the glow of our screens and the endless scroll of doom. We now know how much suffering exists beyond the edges of our own lives. Even when none of it has touched us directly, I am convinced that it leaves an indelible mark on our souls.

We digest fragments of stories we may never fully understand — about people we will never meet, and places we may never walk.

And still… something inside us responds. A stirring of empathy… or perhaps recognition of our shared humanity.

These stirrings inform something within ourselves — from this lifetime, or perhaps from the ancestral lineage of all who have walked before us?

The suffering we witness outside ourselves often awakens something already living quietly within ourselves.

The world becomes our mirror.

Not to overwhelm us…
but to reveal the places within us still asking for attention, healing, and care.

The terrain of the heart does not always know how to respond — because at the core of our being, we are not separate from the sea we move within. We are part of it. Humans are deeply sensitive to emotional resonance, and our nervous systems read those around us constantly — long before the mind begins to interpret what it is sensing.

And I experience a particular shade of grief that arises from witnessing without control — from feeling deeply while knowing I cannot fix what I see. A grief that whispers: How do I stay heart coherent without contracting from anger, sadness, fear, or simply from overwhelm?

It seems like many of us are circling this same hard question right now — each in our own way.

Because somewhere beneath the noise, I keep sensing an inner rhythm calling us back home to ourselves.

And I keep returning to the intuitive knowing that the most powerful act I can offer in service to humanity is to simply show up and meet the inner work that arises — again and again.

To hold the quiet knowing that we are here for a reason. That we are interconnected. That not a single one of us is getting out of this alive… so we might as well live fully — from our best place, from the heart, truly all in.

We each belong. And when we allow ourselves to receive that sense of belonging, something deepens and takes root. We feel safer in our own skin, no matter what is happening outside our lives, and that is potent.

Truthfully, I think most of us long for the same core things:
to feel loved,
to feel safe,
to experience less suffering,
and more moments of real joy in our lives.

At least… that is what I want from this lifetime. And what the world is currently mirroring can feel worlds apart from these core desires.

As though the collective heartbeat is skipping — discordant, uneven, out of rhythm with the deeper pulse of existence. Fear itself is spreading like an unwanted contagion throughout the world, and with each new wave, we begin to carry experiences that were never truly ours to contain.

Thankfully, the quiet intelligence of the heart stays steady, even when the world seems too loud to shield ourselves from. And this is why I keep returning to the idea of heart coherence as a grounding cord.

Research continues to explore the heart as more than an organ that pumps our blood — but as a communication center that influences breath, emotion, and nervous system balance, often described as a state of heart coherence where mind, body, and feeling align. Whether approached scientifically or intuitively, I’ve noticed that when we emerge from inner storms, there is a quiet shift toward clarity, resilience, and a more harmonious connection with ourselves and others.

Our breath steadies, our bodies relax, and our awareness returns.

To me, this is coherence — a remembering that even when the world feels chaotic, an inner cadence still exists.

When we follow the intelligence of our heart, it becomes an anchor within — helping us stay connected to our own wisdom, guiding our choices with clarity and compassion from a place of balance.

I wholeheartedly believe that we hold the power to heal our lives, and it begins with how we frame and reframe our experience.

I am unwilling to frame things in a way that keeps me stuck. I choose to think beyond the proverbial box, reframing my life in ways that support my well-being. I like knowing I always have a choice. I feel more empowered to do the inner work when I see myself as the complex, dynamic human being that I am — while also staying connected to my higher self, my soul, my multi-dimensional nature.

The work is not to force harmony back into existence, but to consciously choose to align ourselves with our highest good, regulate our nervous system, and quell the inner storm the outside world can trigger within us.

This does not mean shutting down — it means learning to ground, remain present, and gently return home to ourselves. Nor does it mean carrying the entire world inside a single body, but allowing the heart’s quiet intelligence to steady us, keeping us balanced as we move through it.

The path, for me, always begins with returning.

Returning to the earth beneath my feet — the many forested paths that know my steps intimately.
To the trees that ask nothing of me except presence.
To the slow alchemy of creating — whether it be writing, drawing, painting, baking, gardening, sewing, or whatever sparks my creativity in the moment.

Sometimes it is as simple as lighting a candle and sitting with its steady flame — closing my eyes and envisioning the world I long to see take root. Feeling the quiet levity of what is becoming, as though I am already living inside the future my heart recognizes. Consciously making room for the energy of what I envision — not as escape, but as devotion.

And when these quiet rituals are not enough to soften the weight of a world set ablaze…
you might find me singing to anchor my voice,
dancing barefoot like a wildling beneath the sky —
letting movement become the language that carries what words cannot.

Because tending to our own ground is not turning away from the collective. It is how we remain able to meet it — without losing ourselves.

Perhaps this is the deeper work of the times that are upon us:

To feel the tides of the world without becoming untethered from our own center. To witness — and still choose to live, to create, to root; and to remain present within the quiet intelligence of the heart while everything around us continues to change.

If the world has felt heavy to you lately, you are not alone — and I invite you to keep showing up gently, listening to the parts of yourself the world has awakened.

So tonight I return to the small rituals that remind me I am still here — cozy pajamas, a hot cup of tea, words on the page allowing me to witness from a place where I can still choose how I respond;
earth beneath me, breath within me, flame before me.

And I wonder…

What brings you back to yourself when the weight of the world drifts too close?

As we come to the end, I offer you my favorite Buddhist Metta Prayer:
May you be safe and protected.
May you be contented and pleased.
May your physical body support you with strength.
And may your life unfold smoothly, with ease.

All my love,
The Rose Witch