‍The Return to the Body

There are moments when life feels too sharp.

Too loud, too fast, too much.

The inbox, the deadlines, the logistics, the constant low hum of responsibility.

Some days the world feels like it's knocking on your nervous system with fists.

And then a song plays…. the right one, the familiar one, and something inside shifts.

Your shoulders drop.

Your breath deepens.

Your heart rate softens its grip.

It's not magic.

It's biology.

Our bodies recognise safety long before our minds find the words for it.

And music is one of the oldest signals we have.

Let's talk about it.

When Sound Becomes Safety

There's something almost primal about the way certain tones calm the body.

Slow rhythms, low frequencies, predictable patterns, they act like a hand on the shoulder, telling your nervous system that the world is no longer a threat.

This is the vagus nerve at work, the quiet conductor of our inner state.

It responds to tone, tempo, resonance.

It listens before you do.

This is also why sound healing has become so popular.

Not because people suddenly discovered gongs and bowls, but because the nervous system responds to vibration in a deeply physical way.

Sound healing is essentially “guided frequency exposure.”

Singing bowls, gongs, tuning forks, all of them produce long, sustained waves that the body can entrain to.

Bare with my simplified description of the physics:

•           Slow, low frequencies activate the parasympathetic system

•           Steady pulses regulate breathing

•           Resonant tones stimulate the vagus nerve through the ears, the skin, and even the bones

It's not mystical.

It's mechanical.

And that's what makes it powerful.

When we hear steady, soothing frequencies, the vagus nerve shifts us out of fight-or-flight and into regulation.

Heart rate lowers.

Cortisol drops.

Our muscles stop bracing for impact.

It's the same reason we calm a baby by humming.

Or why deep bass can feel grounding instead of overwhelming.

Or why that one playlist feels like emotional first aid, the one you go back to when the world has been unkind.

Sound is a shortcut home.

The Neuroscience of Coming Home

Music doesn't just change our mood, it changes our internal chemistry.

A few things happen all at once:

•           Oxytocin rises, softening fear and opening us toward connection.

•           The parasympathetic nervous system activates, signalling safety.

•           Dopamine releases, creating a quiet lift, not excitement, but ease.

•           The amygdala calms, reducing emotional reactivity.

It's a cascade.

A reset.

A reminder that our bodies are wired for rhythm, not chaos.

This is why music can bring you back to yourself long before your thoughts catch up.

Why a single chord can unravel tension you didn't know you were holding.

Why a certain melody feels like an exhale after a long day of holding your breath.

Music as Emotional Grounding

I feel this most on the days when everything's moving too quickly, whenAmsterdam hums at its highest tempo and my own rhythms lag behind.

I'll be biking through the city, thinking about work and deadlines and life, and then I'll put on a track I love.

The city doesn't slow down.

But I do.

The canals soften.

The lights feel warmer.

My breath returns.

Music anchors me, not to the past, but to the present.

It catches me before I drift too far away from myself.

Connection, Repaired

We often think connection is something we build through conversation or effort.

But much of it happens in the nervous system, long before words.

When music regulates us, we become more open.

More patient.

More available for closeness.

You can't connect when you're in survival mode.

But give the body rhythm, and you give it permission to trust again.

This is why shared music moments feel like collective healing.

The quiet singing in a kitchen.

The soft soundtrack on a train ride.

The gentle track playing during a difficult conversation.

Music widens the emotional doorway.

It makes connection possible again.

The Quiet Rituals That Hold Us

What I've realised is that our lives need small rituals, moments where sound gently pulls us back into ourselves.

A song in the morning that sets the tone for the day.

A playlist for cooking dinner.

A melody you return to when everything feels too much.

These aren't habits.

They're lifelines.

Little portals of safety we can create on purpose.

A way of telling the nervous system:

You're okay. The world isn't ending. Comeback.

Let's Wrap This Up

Music doesn't just move us.

It repairs us.

It regulates us.

It brings us back into connection, first with ourselves, then with others.

Because sometimes the body needs rhythm long before it needs conversation.

Sometimes safety sounds like a song you've heard a hundred times.

Sometimes belonging begins with a single note.

In the end, music isn't escape.

It's return.

Lots of love,

Stina

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