Quiet the Noise: Your Nervous System Wasn't Built for This Much Input

Have you ever noticed how, right before your period starts, your tolerance for everything seems to disappear?

Your husband is chewing too loudly. The kids are screaming in the other room. The dog won't stop barking. The laundry buzzer goes off for what feels like the tenth time, your feet are cold, and one more person asking, "What's for dinner?" might just send you over the edge.

If you've experienced a menstrual cycle, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. But the truth is, this doesn't only happen during the late luteal phase. It happens whenever our nervous systems become overloaded. This month's workshop theme is Quiet the Noise, and as I've been reflecting on that phrase, I've realized we're talking about much more than simply turning the volume down. We're talking about all of the input our brains are trying to process every single day.

When I say "quiet the noise," I don't mean living in complete silence. Our nervous systems were never designed for that either.

Think back to our ancestors. They heard babies crying, thunderstorms rolling across the prairie, dogs barking, chickens screaming because a hawk had swooped into the yard, or someone shouting that help was needed. Those sounds demanded attention because they often meant survival. They activated the nervous system, increased alertness, and prepared the body to respond. That type of noise served an important purpose.

But there was another kind of noise as well.

Families gathered around fires to tell stories. Communities celebrated weddings with music and dancing. Friends laughed together after meals. Children played while adults chatted nearby. Songs were sung during work and celebrations. These sounds also filled the environment, but they carried an entirely different message to the nervous system.

One kind of noise says, "Pay attention—there may be danger." The other says, "You're safe. You belong here."

Both have always been part of being human.

The challenge today is that we've created an entirely new category of noise—one that our nervous systems never evolved to handle. Our phones buzz. Email notifications pop up every few minutes. The news asks us to care about every tragedy happening around the world. Social media reminds us of everything we're not doing, while our calendars tell us where we need to be next. Even when the room is physically quiet, our minds are sorting through endless to-do lists, deadlines, conversations, notifications, and decisions.

That kind of noise never really stops.

Our ancestors heard the thunderstorm, weathered it, and eventually the sky became quiet again. Today, our phones keep storming. There is always another notification, another headline, another email, another reminder asking for our attention. Individually, none of these things seem overwhelming. Together, they create a constant state of low-level vigilance that keeps our nervous systems from ever fully settling.

This is why the little things begin to feel enormous. It's rarely the sound of your spouse chewing that pushes you over the edge. It's that your nervous system has already been filtering hundreds of demands before breakfast. The chewing just happens to be the final drop into an already full cup.

Traditional Chinese Medicine offers another beautiful way to understand this.

Summer is the season of yang energy. Yang is active, expressive, joyful, social, warm, and outward. I often picture yang as a little boy running through the yard with endless energy. He's laughing, climbing trees, chasing butterflies, asking a thousand questions, and moving from one adventure to the next. That playful energy is exactly what summer invites us to embrace.

But even that little boy eventually needs a nap.

That's where yin enters the picture. Yin isn't laziness or doing nothing. Yin is restoration. It's the cool shade beneath a tree on a hot afternoon. It's reading a book instead of scrolling your phone. It's sitting quietly on the porch after dinner. It's five minutes of Qi Gong before your next meeting. It's putting your phone on "Do Not Disturb" for an hour before bed so your brain has a chance to settle.

Summer isn't asking us to avoid activity. It's asking us to balance it.

As we move through the hottest part of the year, many of us feel pressure to do more. More vacations. More activities. More projects before school starts. More productivity while the days are still long. But perhaps the invitation of this season isn't to squeeze more into our schedules. Perhaps it's to intentionally create small moments of yin within all of that yang.

One thing I find especially interesting is that not all noise is harmful. The laughter of friends around a campfire, children playing outside, birds singing in the morning, music that makes you want to dance, or a conversation with someone who truly sees you can all be deeply regulating for the nervous system. Those sounds remind us that we're connected, supported, and safe.

The goal isn't silence.

The goal is choosing more of the sounds—and experiences—that nourish your nervous system while creating boundaries around the ones that constantly ask you to stay alert.

Maybe that means putting your phone away while you eat dinner. Maybe it's taking a walk through your garden without listening to a podcast. Maybe it's spending five quiet minutes with your tea before the rest of the house wakes up. Maybe it's saying no to one more commitment so you have room to enjoy an evening with people you love.

This month I've been encouraging everyone to "quiet the noise," and I think that's really another way of asking: What can you set down long enough to hear yourself again?

Because sometimes the most healing thing we can do isn't adding another healthy habit to our routine.

Sometimes it's simply making enough space for our nervous system to remember what peace feels like.