Articles

A Performance System You Can Trust: Your Nervous System

Tue, 03 Feb 2026 12:24:17 GMT

Why high performance starts with nervous system safety, not pressure

A Question for Middle and Senior Leaders

Does your leadership reduce fear, or quietly amplify it?

Most leaders are asked the same question in different forms:

“Is your team performing?”

We look to engagement surveys, delivery metrics, revenue, targets and output. These matter. But they don’t tell us one critical thing:

Are your people in a physiological state that actually allows high performance?

Because performance does not begin with pressure.

It begins with safety, dignity and connection.

Neuroscience now helps us understand something wise leaders have always sensed: when people don’t feel safe, they cannot give their best – not because they lack skill or motivation, but because their nervous system is busy trying to protect them.

What Can We Learn from the Nervous System?

Polyvagal Theory, developed by Dr Stephen Porges, explains how our autonomic nervous system constantly scans for cues of safety or threat — a process called neuroception. This happens outside conscious awareness and directly shapes how we think, relate and work.

In simple terms, we move through three broad states:

1. Safe and Connected (Ventral Vagal)

Biologically, this is when the prefrontal cortex — responsible for complex thinking, emotional regulation and decision-making — is most available. This is the foundation of psychological safety and high performance.

This is where collaboration, creativity and leadership capacity live. In this state, people:

Think more clearly and long-term
Speak up with ideas and concerns
Listen and communicate with nuance
Collaborate more effectively
Recover more quickly from setbacks

2. Survival Mode: Sympathetic (Fight / Flight / Fawn)

When the nervous system senses threat, it mobilises:

Attention narrows towards self-protection
Thinking shifts to short-term solutions
Trust drops, vigilance rises, and we scan for risk or exclusion
Non-essential body processes (like digestion) may be deprioritised as the body prepares for action

This state can help in short bursts. But when teams live here chronically, creativity, strategic thinking, health and relational trust decline. People are working hard, but from survival, not inspiration.

3. Survival Mode: Dorsal Vagal (Shutdown)

When stress feels overwhelming or inescapable, the system can shift into collapse:

Low energy and reduced initiative
Slower thinking and responses
Withdrawal from conversations and decisions
A sense of “I can’t” or “what’s the point?”

This is not disengagement by choice. It is a protective biological response.

What This Looks Like in Organisations

When people are busy protecting their reputation, defending their team or avoiding embarrassment, enormous energy is lost to survival.

When people feel safe enough to ask for help, admit mistakes, offer new ideas and disagree respectfully, that energy becomes available for innovation, learning and meaningful contribution.

But we don’t see “nervous system states.” We see behaviour.

Chronic fight / flight / fawn in teams may look like:

Defensive conversations and blame cycles
Reluctance to admit mistakes
Over-analysis and difficulty making decisions
Competition that erodes trust
Tension in meetings, people jumping between topics or speaking carefully rather than honestly

Shutdown in teams may look like:

Silence or disengagement in meetings
Low ownership and reduced initiative
Overwhelm at tasks that were previously manageable
Teams or departments withdrawing from one another

Over time, both states also affect health — increasing burnout, stress-related illness, absenteeism and presenteeism.

No performance framework can override a nervous system that does not feel safe.

Wisdom, Now Backed by Science

Long before we had neuroscience, deeply wise leaders understood a simple truth:

You cannot demand greatness from people who are busy trying to protect themselves.

Nelson Mandela, for example, led through dignity, presence and deep listening — even in the aftermath of profound harm. He understood that humiliation shrinks people, while respect helps them rise.

Today science shows us that when people feel respected and safe, their nervous systems shift into a state where connection, courage and creativity become biologically possible.

Safety is not a soft extra.

It is a performance condition.

Leadership as a Regulating Multiplier

Science also shows us something crucial:

Nervous systems regulate each other.

Through tone of voice, pace, facial expression and presence, leaders continuously send cues of safety or threat. This process — known as co-regulation — means a leader’s internal state does not stay personal. It becomes contagious.

Under pressure, a leader who is grounded, clear without aggression, steady in uncertainty and honest when dysregulated helps the organisation regulate. This is where the multiplier effect lives.

A leader’s regulation increases the cognitive capacity, relational trust and creative energy available across the system. When nervous systems settle at scale, performance shifts.

This is not about being endlessly calm or “nice”. It is about reducing unnecessary threat and increasing relational safety — so more of the organisation’s intelligence becomes usable, especially when the work is demanding.

Call to Action: Lead for Safety, Lead for Results

If you want teams that are resilient, innovative and able to handle complexity, look beyond metrics and ask:

Do our people feel safe enough — in their bodies and in their relationships — to bring their full intelligence to work?

Because where people feel safe, they think better.

Where they feel respected, they contribute more.

And where leadership creates the conditions for regulation, performance is no longer forced — it is freed.

Coming into Relationship with Myself

Fri, 16 Jan 2026 09:51:05 GMT

Rebuilding a relationship with the body through awareness, compassion, and connection

Recently, I was told I have a polyp on my ovary that needs to be removed.

It wasn’t the diagnosis that unsettled me most. It was being asked to make decisions about my body while noticing my nervous system scatter. A mix of sympathetic charge and dorsal shutdown led me to freeze. I couldn’t think clearly. My body felt far away from me.

Later, when I shared the decisions I needed to make with Kim, she asked a simple question that I couldn’t answer:

“What does your body say?”

Noticing that I couldn’t respond, she asked another:

“What’s your relationship with your body?”

The honest answer?

Especially when it comes to my ovaries, I don’t really have one. If anything, I realised I’m a bit pissed off with them.

After two miscarriages, there’s a story I’ve been carrying that my body, and particularly my feminine organs, let me down. I’ve dismissed them, ignored them, even resented them. They felt inconvenient, overly feminine, and out of place in the many masculine environments I’ve spent much of my life navigating. Somewhere along the way, they became something I tolerated rather than related to.

That realisation became an invitation.
Not to fix, hate, or ignore my body.
But to come into relationship with it.

Relationship with self is not a single thing

Through years of personal development, including the foundations I gained through PRH , I’ve learned that I am not one flat, singular entity.

There are many aspects of me at play in any given situation:

my body
my intellect
my sensibility and emotional life
my deep conscience
my being

Relationship with self is multi-dimensional. You can be deeply connected in some areas and quietly disconnected in others, without realising it until something brings it into focus.

This particular moment highlighted a specific rupture. A broken relationship with parts of my body that hold femininity, creation, loss, and grief.

Accepting the invitation to come back into connection with these parts allows me to become a more dynamic being. It opens up more of my own possibility to be discovered.

And that matters.

Being and doing are not the same

This reflection comes alongside another area of growth around self-worth.

What’s becoming clearer is the distinction between:

who I aspire to be
what I aspire to do

Who I aspire to be sits below the iceberg, largely unseen but foundational.
What I aspire to do sits above the waterline, visible, measurable, and often critiqued.

Who I aspire to be includes:

warmth
integrity
love
joy
conscious, intentional living
the courage to question and challenge the status quo
a deep desire to support people and teams to work, and live, more intentionally

Over the last year especially, I’ve discovered a new quality of self-love. Not the performative kind, but the practical kind. Wanting to genuinely look after myself. Trusting that my body is wired to support me, not sabotage me. That it wants me to succeed. That it wants me to thrive.

What I aspire to do - building The View Looks Good, coaching, team and community-building, strengthening my marriage, supporting my child’s development, and looking after my body - is informed by that deeper being. When I’m unclear about who I am, my doing becomes strained. When I’m grounded in who I am, my doing carries clarity, confidence, and coherence.

That’s why coming into relationship with self matters so deeply.

Connecting with who I aspire to be has allowed me to be more gentle with myself. It has helped me make choices about my procedure that support a deeper relationship with my ovaries. It has encouraged me to follow through because I do care for myself. And it has given me the opportunity to heal the part of me that was angry at how my body had let me down in the past.

The joyful and courageous part of me wants to speak about this openly, to give other women permission to come into relationship with their feminine organs too.

A nervous system-first way of getting to know yourself

From a nervous system-first approach – what we teach at The View Looks Good – coming into relationship with yourself starts simply.

First: awareness.
Becoming aware of:

physical sensations in the body
the quality and nature of your thoughts
your emotional landscape

The tone of your thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations tells you which nervous system state you are in. It gives information about whether you’re in a ventral, sympathetic, or dorsal state. It lets you know where to heal, shift, grow, or move. Getting caught up in the actual content of thoughts can be misleading.

Second: observation without judgement.
Wherever you are is not wrong.
It’s not right either.
It simply is.

This is about noticing what’s present without adding a second layer of criticism or shame. Instead, we meet ourselves with compassion, curiosity, and the courage to explore.

Third: response, not reaction.
When difficult thoughts or sensations arise, the ones that sound harsh, arrogant, fearful, or unkind, or that are hurtful, even painful, we don’t make them mean that’s who we are.

Instead, we let them tell us something simpler and more useful:

Something in me is unsettled.
Something is disconnected.

From there, we can ask:

What do I need right now?
What would help me reconnect?
What space, action, or gentleness is required?

Coming into relationship with yourself isn’t about perfection.

It’s about noticing disconnection and learning how to return.

Again and again.

This experience with my body hasn’t been a setback.
It’s been a reminder.

A reminder that relationship with self is alive, evolving, and worthy of attention, especially in the places we’ve ignored, judged, or quietly blamed.

If this reflection resonates, we’d love to welcome you into the community, where you can access courses, coaching, information, and practice groups to support you in building a deeper, more compassionate relationship with yourself.

I Know I Am Lovable... And Yet

Wed, 07 Jan 2026 15:10:01 GMT

A nervous system–first reflection on self-worth

I know I am loved.

I know I am lovable.

And yet, so often, I cannot feel it in my body.

My mind can hold the thought I am enough, but my body sometimes can’t feel it. Instead, the familiar “not enough” narrative arrives:

I haven’t worked hard enough.

I haven’t given enough.

I’m not smart enough.

I don’t have enough.

A few months ago, this pattern resurfaced again. And rather than judging myself, it felt like an invitation – to look more closely at self-worth and self-esteem through a nervous system–first lens.

Because living nervous system-first doesn’t mean these challenges disappear. It doesn’t mean we never wobble or doubt ourselves. It means that when the wobble arrives, we recognise it for what it is: a shift in state. A call from the body. An opportunity to grow.

The Old Pattern: “I am not worth spending money on”

A while ago, I noticed just how hard it was for me to spend money on myself.

I would look at my bank account and think:

I can’t spend money on mental health support.

Massages are a luxury.

Pampering myself is vanity.

Winter clothes are too expensive.

I could find endless reasons why I wasn’t worthy of that care.

Then, in one week, the same message appeared in three different places. A line that said:

It’s not about how much you love, but about how much you are loved – by God, by the universe, by life itself.

It stopped me in my tracks.

I realised I had never really considered that part. I had been measuring myself by how much I gave, how much I endured, how useful I was – rather than allowing myself to receive.

Something shifted in my body. A new sensation arrived – unfamiliar, softer, more spacious.

I found myself able to talk to my husband about things I wanted to spend money on - something that had always felt too difficult. As we talked, I realised some of the things I named I didn’t actually want. And the things I did want, we had the budget for.

It wasn’t the spending that was hard.

It was the asking.

The belief that I was worthy enough to name my needs.

Therapy, Money, and the Meaning of Worth

Not long after, I started wobbling again – this time around a project that stirred up a lot of “you’re not good enough” noise.

My nervous system was letting me know that something in me needed support. I felt the pull towards therapy… and immediately shut it down.

£65 a week felt unimaginable.

I had never spent that much on myself.

But this time, I paused.

If I value myself, I thought, then not doing this costs even more. Because I carry the weight for longer. And it affects not only me, but my daughter, my husband, my friends, and my work.

So I asked.

And again, I received an immediate yes.

Even then, each session felt like confronting the old belief: this is too much to spend on me. But week by week, I realised something quietly radical – I was doing it. I was choosing myself.

Not as a reward for working hard or being exceptional, but simply to nurture this human existence.

And something softened.

A New Pattern Emerging: Worth That Isn’t Earned Through Hardship

More recently, on another project, I noticed a subtler wobble.

The client didn’t need me very much. Their team was strong, spacious, well-resourced.

And suddenly my mind panicked:

If I’m not desperately needed, then am I valuable?

It was such a revealing thought. A familiar old pattern:

My worth equals how hard I work.

How much I rescue.

How indispensable I am.

But because I’m living nervous system-first, I could feel the shift inside me. That familiar tightening in my chest. The old sympathetic nervous system pull to do more, prove more.

Instead of overriding it, I noticed it. I explored it. I shook it off – literally. I spoke it out loud to a couple of trusted people.

And a new truth emerged, felt rather than rehearsed:

I can be valued simply because I show up in my fullness in the room.

Not because I burn myself out.

That realisation was deeply liberating.

The Healthy Tension of Self-Worth

There is a real and healthy tension around self-worth.

Valuing myself doesn’t mean ignoring the needs or worth of others. If I spend money on myself, I still need to honour my family’s needs. If I consume resources, I still need to honour nature.

But when my self-worth is warped – when I’m in sympathetic nervous system overdrive or dorsal nervous system collapse – my inner measurement system becomes distorted. Everything feels harder. More conflicted. Too much.

When I’m grounded in a ventral nervous system state – connected, present, grounded – my decisions become kinder. To myself, and to those around me.

Signs Your Nervous System Doesn’t Yet Feel Safe Letting You Be Loved

If you notice that you:

don’t allow yourself simple pleasures

don’t express your needs

struggle to ask for support

speak harshly to yourself

avoid nurturing your body with time, care, or nourishment

rely on others to rescue you

feel guilty spending money or energy on yourself

…these aren’t signs that you’re weak or flawed.

They’re signs that your nervous system doesn’t yet feel safe letting you be loved.

And still, you are lovable simply because you exist.

A Gentle Call to Action

If any of this resonates – if you can intellectually understand your worth but struggle to feel it – this is often a sign that your nervous system shifts into sympathetic (fight/flight/fawn) or dorsal (shutdown) when you turn towards yourself.

You’re not broken.

You’re not behind.

Your body is protecting you in the only way it knows how.

Your invitation is to begin building a pathway back to yourself. Slowly. Kindly. Consistently.

Here are a few places to start:

Notice your state

What do your body, thoughts, and feelings tell you about the state you’re in? Do you feel safe, or do you notice protection creeping in? Naming it begins the shift.

Choose one tiny act of self-valuing today

A nourishing meal. Five minutes of stillness. Asking for what you need. Taking a nap if you are exhausted.

Let your body feel your worth in micro-moments

A hand on your heart. A slow exhale. A gentle touch on your own arm.

Seek support that meets your system, not your story

Coaching, therapy, group learning – whatever helps your nervous system feel less alone.

And if you’d like to explore this work more deeply – with a nervous system-first approach – we’d love to walk with you.

Send us a message or join one of our courses.

Learning to love yourself unconditionally will change your life.

Parenting Might Be the Best Leadership Training We Never Asked For

Sat, 29 Nov 2025 21:24:58 GMT

(And the workplace might be teaching us more about parenting than we realise.)

If you’ve ever navigated a child’s meltdown after a long day, you already know what it feels like when two nervous systems collide. The intensity. The overwhelm. The desire to stay grounded… while feeling anything but.

And if you’ve ever sat in an office where emotions run high, deadlines tighten, or a team hits friction, you might recognise something surprisingly similar.

Parenting and leadership often ask us to work with the same things: Big feelings, complex dynamics, competing needs, and the hope that we can meet the moment without losing ourselves.

We believe the skills we practice at home and at work aren’t as different as we think.

Why Parenting Is a Masterclass in Nervous System Leadership

When a child melts down, no amount of logic or explanation will land until their body settles.

To support that child, we don’t need perfect words. They benefit from:

Our presence
Our boundary-holding without emotionally shutting down
The ability to stay steady enough to co-regulate
Repair after the intensity

These are the same skills that shape psychologically safe, emotionally intelligent workplaces.

In fact, parents develop these muscles daily in moments where there is absolutely no time, often accompanied by a judging public eye and endless contingencies relying on that precise moment to go well.

The best part? These skills transfer beautifully into leadership: building trust, navigating conflict, de-escalating tension, and cultivating teams where people feel safe enough to think clearly again.

And the Office Teaches Us About Parenting Too

Many people find that the workplace gives them access to things that sometimes feel harder at home:

Slowing the pace before responding
Naming impact without blame
Structuring boundaries
Pausing to regulate before re-engaging
Asking curious questions instead of assuming intention

These are leadership norms we often practice with colleagues and they become powerful tools when brought into parenting.

Because sometimes our children receive the most unfiltered version of us. And sometimes the workplace receives the most contained version of us.

Bringing these worlds closer together can open new choices in both.

When We Become Dysregulated (Because We Do)

In our latest episode of The View Looks Good Podcast (S4,E8), Ann de Passos and Kim van Niekerk talk openly about those moments where our nervous systems flip into survival mode during a child’s big emotions.

Even with the knowledge. Even with the tools. Even with the intention to “stay calm.”

We can still get overwhelmed. We can still react. We can still wish we had done it differently.

And that’s human.

Whether we’re parenting or leading, the real skill is it’s noticing when we’ve left our grounded place… and finding our way back.

That recovery is what sets the tone. At home. At work. In every relationship.

The Shared Thread: We’re Always Learning in Relationship

Both children and colleagues respond less to what we say and more to how we show up:

Can we stay open when someone else closes?
Can we slow ourselves when the room speeds up?
Can we hold boundaries without withdrawing?
Can we repair after rupture?

These are relational skills, not parental skills, not leadership skills. They’re human skills.

And parenting gives us daily, unfiltered practice. The workplace gives us structured, paced practice.

Together, they give us a full-spectrum education in what it means to be with people when things get hard.

If You’re a Parent in the Workforce, You’re Already Doing Two Growth Journeys at Once

And both journeys are making you more capable, more compassionate, and more aware than you might give yourself credit for.

So the next time you’re at work navigating a difficult conversation, notice what your parenting has taught you about staying present.

And the next time you’re at home facing a meltdown, consider what your leadership experience has already given you: the ability to come back, breathe, reconnect, set boundaries, and repair.

This is the real crossover. Not perfection. Not control. But the ongoing practice of being with humans (including ourselves) in all our intensity, softness, confusion, and courage.

If you want to explore how nervous systems can guide you at home or at work check out This is Me (our personal focussed course), This is Connecting and This is Leadership (our workplace focussed courses).

Wherever you start - everywhere will benefit.

Parenting Big Emotions

Fri, 28 Nov 2025 13:57:41 GMT

How our kids' meltdowns can become moments of connection, repair, and shared learning

It’s understandable how quickly things can escalate with a child when emotions rise.

You’re tired, they’re stretched, and without meaning to, everyone can get pulled into repeating the same explanations or arguments.

And, if you’re anything like us, you may have noticed how often that loop feels unsatisfying for both of you.

If you’re curious and looking for another way — one that opens space and more connection for you both then nervous systems can help guide us to more choice and more room to breathe.

Seeing a Meltdown Through a Softer Lens

When a child becomes overwhelmed, it’s rarely about defiance or intention. Their nervous system is simply full.

Big feelings can tug them into a place where thinking, listening, and reasoning are temporarily out of reach. It’s not personal. It’s biology doing what biology does.

Imagining it this way can be helpful:
They’re not choosing a battle; they’re trying to navigate something that feels too big.

When Arguments Add More Heat

Most of us have had moments where a simple “stop” or “please listen” spirals into back-and-forth tension. Two nervous systems, both on alert, trying to protect themselves.

When you start reasoning – “We’ve spoken about this before”, “You know the rules”, “Why are you behaving like this?” – it’s like trying to have a calm conversation with someone whose fire alarm is blaring in their ears. They can’t hear you properly. They feel even more overwhelmed, and the meltdown often escalates.

Nothing is “wrong” with you or your child. It simply shows both bodies working hard.

And once we can see that, even a small pause can create room for a different experience.

The Possibility of Holding Space

Some parents find that instead of jumping into explanation or correction, staying nearby with steadiness can shift the whole tone of the moment.

Holding space might look like:

Just being close enough for them to feel you there without words
Letting your voice stay soft, even if theirs isn’t
Keeping words few
Making sure everyone is safe
Allowing the wave of emotion to rise and fall without rushing it through

It doesn’t mean agreeing with the behaviour. It simply means acknowledging the human underneath it.

“I won’t let you hit me. And I can see this is really big for you right now.”

There’s no lesson to deliver — just enough calm around them for their body to find its way back to a sense of calm too.

Staying With Yourself, Too

Being the grounded one offering the calm is easier said than done. Which is why your own system matters just as much as theirs.

If your capacity is stretched, tending to yourself in the moment is not abandoning them — it’s part of staying connected.

Some people find it helpful to:

Take one slower breath
Feel the weight of their feet
Relax their jaw or shoulders
Offer themselves a quiet gentle phrase like, “We’re both having a hard moment.”

|And sometimes, creating a little space is what allows you to stay present:

“I’m going to stand right over here and breathe for a moment. I’m still with you.”

This models something powerful: not constant calm, but the ability to return to it.

When Things Settle

Once your child’s body has softened and they’re more available again, there’s often an opening for connection and conversation. It doesn’t have to happen right away. It can be later in the day or even tomorrow.

In that quieter space, curiosity can lead:

“Earlier felt really tough. What was going on for you?”

You might share impact gently, without blame, and invite possibilities for next time — not as a “fix,” but as co-exploration.

“What could help you when that feeling shows up again? Stomping? Squeezing something? Saying, ‘I’m mad!’?”

Learning grows in these small pockets of calm.

Shifting Old Patterns With Kindness

It’s so common, in the middle of a meltdown, to reach for anything that might bring relief to your kids and to you — a treat, a distraction, a promise, a threat. That’s human.

If you’re curious about trying something different, you might experiment with separating the phases:

During the big feelings: create safety, be fully present, feel your steadiness.
Afterwards: offer comfort, closeness, reflect together.

It can change the rhythm of how these moments unfold.

A Kinder Story For Both of You

This isn’t about getting it “right.” It’s about widening the doorway so you both have more space to breathe and be human.

Your child isn’t being “too much”; they’re overwhelmed.

You aren’t failing because they are melting down; you’re navigating something tender and real in real time.

The meltdown isn’t a sign of chaos; it’s a moment full of potential for understanding and repair.

When you accompany your child through the storm — while also tending to yourself — they receive the message that:

Their feelings are welcome
They are safe to be seen
They don’t have to move through things alone

And when you revisit the moment later, with gentleness, you offer them something precious: the experience that big feelings can be held, understood, and integrated together.

And no, this doesn’t guarantee smooth days or instant cooperation. Some moments resolve quickly; others take more time. None of that means you’re off track.

It just means you’re growing alongside each other — one real moment at a time.

Do You Ever Compare Yourself to Others?

Tue, 19 Aug 2025 09:56:13 GMT

How comparison can deeply hurt and how it can be a force for growth in your life

Have you ever noticed when meeting up with friends, chatting with colleagues or meeting new people, that the brain loves to make comparisons and ask questions?

Mine fills easily with:

“Did we make the right choices for our family?”

“Should I have done something else with my career?”

“Should I have more hobbies?”,

“Should we have travelled more?”

And let’s not forget the more concrete 'should' statements that can creep in like,

“I should cook more interesting and healthy food”,

“I need to update my wardrobe/music choices”,

“I should be working out more”,

“We should do more cultural stuff!”

The habit of comparison

Comparison is a natural human instinct. It is an evolutionary part of how we keep ourselves alive and thriving. And of course it’s not just a summer barbecue that leads to these comparisons. We walk around our workplaces, local communities, school drop offs - making comparisons. We compare, careers, bodies, parenting, creativity, money, relationships all the time.

When the comparisons come with judgment - either of ourselves or of others, that’s when it can hurt.

The red flag of judgement

Judgement shows us we’ve left our sense of personal safety. We’re rocked, unstable, unsure, unsettled, questioning ourselves.

When judgement shows up for me it comes as self-criticism, shaming or a frustration that I’m not where others are.

It can feel like I’m suddenly really uncomfortable in my own skin, like I want to wriggle out of it - I want to be wearing different clothes, be in a different body, in a different house with different belongings. That is my flight nervous system response in action.

Or I can watch myself disconnecting - not wanting to see people on a weekend or feeling drained by the events we go to. That is my shutdown/collapse nervous system activated.

Or I can find myself saying all kinds of weird things to belittle myself in front of others in an attempt to make them feel comfortable even though they don’t need it. I’ll say things like, “I’m rubbish at pulling meals together last minute - you’re incredible.” It’s true they are incredible, but it’s not entirely true that I can’t. But in these moments of comparison with judgement it seems I’m happy to make my self smaller. This is my please/appease nervous system in action.

And the result, even with people I love dearly, can often be a feeling of disconnection from myself, from them and a big fat cloud of unworthiness that hangs around me afterwards, in a life that feels like it is stagnating.

The power of regularly recognising the good in your life

The lesson I’m learning is that my sense of safety, of feeling grounded, of feeling enough needs tending to. No different to working out in the gym or practicing a musical instrument until you become better and better at it.

My stability comes from my connection to what is good in my life.

I can remember so many conversations with my husband years ago where he would reel off all the things over the past year that he had worked on, deeply feeling his sense of progress. Feeling the solid ground underneath him as he moved into the next task. All I used to be able to offer was my frustration at what I hadn’t achieved yet. Because my focus did not include what had already been built - just awareness of the next level that I hadn’t reached. He was working from his stability, jumping from one platform to the next, whilst I was trying to reach a platform from mid air, with nothing to push off from. If you are picturing a computer game, much like Mario World, yup - me too.

So reconnecting to what I have, where I am in life, what I am doing - is now a practice.

I’m building the solid ground underneath me by focussing on it. And I now deeply understand why gratitude is a concept widely advocated for in mindfulness and emotional resilience spaces. It builds a solid platform underneath you for just these occasions.

Because when I’m grateful for what I’ve created in my life, when I’m proud of what I’ve achieved and feel blessed for the people in my life then comparison doesn’t shake the ground beneath me, it offers me a moment for growth.

The Practice of Gratitude

That can feel like, “I like/love/appreciate where I am in life and I’m noticing how I can feel a pull in this moment to more fun/movement/creativity/diversity in my routine/body/home/relationships because friends are modelling that so well.

Instead of my survival state kicking in - my ventral vagal nervous system (safety state) is active and curious about this stirring. Comparison in this state of feeling grounded brings a feeling of clarity, inspiration and gentle motivation. I can respond with:

“What staples could I keep in the cupboard to make last minute dishes easier?”, “What is going on that we could go to as a family?”, “Where would we really want to travel to next?”

I’m learning there is room for change and growth in our lives without shame and we can learn from what we envy or admire without hurting ourselves or others.

Judgement shows up through the cracks that already exist in my self esteem, self worth, self value. When I haven’t spent time tending to these wounds and reinforcing the connection with what is there that is great in my life, comparison can hurt and create disconnect in my important relationships.

My ‘muscle memory’ on what is good in my life is getting stronger and stronger, but I love that at The View Looks Good we have a community of people practicing this right alongside each other, because I for one deeply appreciate not being alone on this journey. If you feel the pull to do the same, come and join us!

Want to join a cohort of people working on their nervous systems? Check out our ' This is Me' course for a personal life focus or 'This is Connecting' for a workplace focus.

Have tips on what helps you when comparison creeps in? We'd love to hear from you!

We are Built for better Workplace Connection

kim@kimvanniekerk.com (Kim van Niekerk) — Tue, 15 Jul 2025 10:07:15 GMT

Prefer to Listen to our Article? Watch below:

How to use biology to navigate incivility

I don’t think my experience with team meetings in the past was unique.

I'd watch the colleagues who would lean in, pumping energy and drive into conversations. Their feelings of frustration, over things that weren’t moving or changing fast enough, would gently turn the volume up on their voices and get them jumping in over other people’s comments. I probably sat in this camp quite often myself. Letting my voice be driven by the rising energy in my chest and the voice in my head saying, “oh come on!”.

Another set of colleagues, triggered by the big energy would slowly begin to retreat into themselves. Resenting the dominant energy in the room that failed to stop and really listen in to what was being said. Their silence stewed with, “There is no point to me saying anything”. I’ve been that colleague too - though not as frequently - watching as my voice disappeared deep within me and checked out because there was so little value in being present.

And in those meetings the two would bounce off each other, driving them deeper into their respective corners. The louder camp getting ever more frustrated at the quiet camp who were not bringing any energy to the table. The quiet camp getting ever more resentful of being stomped on by the louder ones.

If you make sure the meeting lasts at least an hour, you’ve often achieved more disconnect in a team than connection. The complete opposite of ‘a meeting of minds’.

Incivility Isn’t Just a Vibe—It’s an Economic Crisis

Last year, incivility in the workplace was rising fast. According to a Society for Human Resource Management survey :

56% of US workers had experienced one or more acts of incivility at work.
Simply witnessing incivility cost employees an average of 37 minutes of lost productivity per act.
A quarter of employees who witness incivility say they’re more likely to leave their job.

The total cost?
A staggering $2 billion per day in lost productivity and associated absenteeism.

And let’s be honest, this cannot be just the US.

What We’re Doing Differently at The View Looks Good

As a small but growing business, creating safety to connect is now the foundation of how we work because we didn’t want to build a business where incivility was just normalised, shrugged off or ignored. It made us so deeply uncomfortable and unhappy that we chose to understand what was going on in those moments, recognising our nervous systems are all at play and running the shop.

So we built our way of working around this core truth:

We make it safe to feel all the feelings of being human, the big feelings that arise with the Sympathetic nervous system activated and the small feelings that arise with the Dorsal system activated, and we support each other to move through them back to a balanced state, not act from them.

What That Actually Looks Like

Here’s what a meeting looks like at The View Looks Good when emotions show up:

We pause.
We name what’s here.

We might say something like,

“I’m noticing how frustrated I’m feeling about our progress - there’s a ‘come on, let’s go!’ voice shouting in my head.”

“I can feel my body wanting to shut down and avoid this - t’s just too much right now.”

Often, someone laughs. Someone lets out a sigh. The tension breaks just a little.

And it is received, without any judgement. The emotions that are there are acknowledged: "Ok, that is how fear and insecurity are showing up in this moment."

And then we ask the question:

‘What is needed to bring us back into balance and feel a sense of safety in the moment?” (Ok, if I’m honest this is just done on autopilot now).

Sometimes that is a moment to sit in quiet and just sense the feeling a little more.

Sometimes it is a request to take a break, release a little of the excess energy from the adrenalin and cortisol building up and come back.

Sometimes it is gentle words of kindness to each other that begin to wake us back up out of resistance and return to connection.

It varies, but always the step is,”Lets find a way to reconnect to ourselves and each other and create solutions from there”.

The Impact?

A deep, steady trust in our culture.

We’re not just more productive. Work has become a place of repair and growth .

We say this a lot, but it still surprises us how much clarity our nervous systems bring to the chaos.

Want to Learn More?

If you're curious about how your nervous system shapes connection (or disconnection) at work, check out our overview , courses , coaching or consulting or drop us a note .

Let’s build workplaces that feel good to be in.

How Our Nervous Systems Create Our Future (Part 3: Dorsal)

kim@kimvanniekerk.com (Kim van Niekerk) — Wed, 28 May 2025 14:53:32 GMT

We asked AI, "What would the impact be on the world if people stay stuck in their Dorsal nervous system states of shutdown/collapse?"

So far we have explored a future where we can tone and access our Ventral nervous system states (yes please!) and one where our Sympathetic nervous systems are dominating (this felt uncomfortably close to home!).

In this article we let AI share a picture of our Dorsal nervous systems at play. Before you read on, it might be helpful to know that there is a natural movement between the systems. We start out in Ventral safety and when safety is not detected in the space around us, we move into Sympathetic. If this hyper vigilent and hyper mobilised state doesn't bring us a sense of returned safety, so the third system steps in and causes us to shutdown and collapse. So whilst the picture AI has painted might not seem as close to home in our daily lives, it may be where we are headed if we are not recognising our nervous system patterns and nurturing them. We also reflected on how we see evidence of this in some really important discussions like climate change and diversity - where the body doesn't sense it will get to safety by taking action and we become apathetic.

Such a fascinating concept to explore - that the very messaging we put out raising the alarm - could switch people off from taking action.

Here is the future ChatGpt offered us with an activated Dorsal nervous system.

Individually: Disconnection Becomes a Way of Being

The world feels far away. In dorsal, the body slows down to a protective shutdown. People often feel foggy, heavy, or invisible — like they’re watching life from behind a glass wall.
Motivation fades. Even small tasks can feel insurmountable. There may be a desire to do, to move, to care — but no energy or belief that it matters.
Shame becomes a frequent companion. From the inside, dorsal can feel like failure: “Why can’t I just get it together?” This misinterpretation deepens the shutdown.
Joy and pleasure are muted. When in dorsal, even things we usually love can feel flat or unreachable. The nervous system has numbed perception to reduce pain — but in doing so, it also blocks delight.

Relationally: Isolation and Self-Protection

Connection feels like too much. In dorsal, people often withdraw — not because they don’t care, but because caring hurts when you feel helpless.
Misattunement increases. Partners, colleagues, friends may feel shut out or confused. Others may interpret this state as coldness, laziness, or apathy — when it’s actually a protective response to overwhelm.
Reaching out feels impossible. Asking for support can feel like climbing a mountain. There’s often a belief that “I’ll be a burden,” or “No one can really help.”

Culturally & Systemically: A Slow Erosion of Aliveness

Dreams fade, and resignation takes root. On a large scale, collective dorsal energy looks like a population that has stopped imagining things can change.
Communities go quiet. Dorsal state is contagious in systems too — groups, workplaces, even nations can begin to shut down creativity, connection, and care.
Apathy masks despair. When people are stuck in dorsal for too long, they may no longer fight injustice, not because they agree — but because hope feels out of reach.

And perhaps most tenderly:

The sense of self dissolves. In long-term dorsal, people often feel like shadows of who they used to be. Not broken — just out of reach. The inner voice can go quiet, or only whisper words of shame.
Healing feels far away. When the body believes there’s no way out, even the idea of change can feel dangerous.

In short:

If people stay stuck in dorsal, the world grows quieter, greyer, more distant.
There is less conflict — but also less connection.
Less chaos — but also less colour.

And we forget, not just how to live — but that we’re even allowed to.

The hope:

Dorsal is not the end.
It’s a pause — a slowing down until safety returns.
With warmth, co-regulation, and time, people do come back.
And when they do, they often carry profound depth, compassion, and wisdom with them.

Stay tuned for the final article in the series, where we explore 'Freeze' - the experience of Dorsal and Sympathetic both activated without regulation.

How Our Nervous Systems Create Our Future (Part 2: Sympathetic)

kim@kimvanniekerk.com (Kim van Niekerk) — Mon, 19 May 2025 12:48:17 GMT

We asked AI, "What would the impact be on the world if people stay stuck in their Sympathetic nervous system states of fight/flight?"

Most people we work with report living big chunks of their lives in an activated Sympathetic nervous system state, commonly known as our Fight/flight response. Big and small fear responses to life, trigger hormones being released into our bodies to energise us to safety.

It's a remarkable survival mechanism to have energy pumped into the body, but we were never designed to stay in this state for long. Today, it seems as though we have not only normalised living and working this way, but we have even made it a status symbol to be exhausted and burnt out. We are effectively driving these incredible bodies of ours in first gear the whole time, burning out the engine.

Here's what ChatGPT said the impact would be if people remained stuck in their sympathetic nervous system state (fight or flight):

⚡️ Individually: Living in Urgency, Disconnection, and Exhaustion

Constant alertness becomes the norm. In a sympathetic state, the body is wired for danger. Even when there is no actual threat, the mind scans for what’s wrong. This creates a baseline of anxiety, irritability, and tension.
Rest becomes inaccessible . Even when tired, the system stays "on." Sleep becomes shallow, rest feels unsafe, and spaciousness can feel intolerable.
Identity fuses with doing . Worth becomes tied to output. Slowing down feels like failure. Pausing feels unsafe. People live as if they’re always behind, always catching up.

�� Relationally: Reactivity Replaces Connection

Communication gets sharper and shorter . Conversations become transactional or defensive. There’s little space for nuance, humor, or vulnerability.
Boundaries become rigid or non-existent . Some people lash out (fight), others over-please or over-perform (flight), often without knowing they’re doing it.
Intimacy becomes threatening . Being seen — truly seen — requires safety. In sympathetic, even closeness can feel like pressure or invasion.

�� Culturally & Systemically: A Society Built on Speed and Survival

Busyness is glorified . Whole cultures begin to equate urgency with importance. “I’m slammed” becomes a badge of honour. Time becomes something to dominate rather than partner with.
Systems mirror dysregulation. Institutions run on efficiency, competition, and control. Burnout is not the exception, but the expected cost of participation.
Polarisation deepens. In sympathetic, people seek certainty, not complexity. Us/them thinking, snap judgments, and moral panic become standard.

�� And perhaps most heartbreakingly:

We lose access to joy, creativity, and compassion . The parts of us that dream, connect, and imagine new futures are only available when the body feels safe. In sympathetic, we’re locked out of those states.
The nervous system becomes the leader — not the self. And when the nervous system is stuck in survival mode, it can’t lead with love, only with defense.

❗In short:

If people stay stuck in their sympathetic state, the world speeds up, but becomes harder to live in.
We move faster — but with less meaning, less connection, and less repair.
We get things done — but we forget why they matter.

The cost isn’t just exhaustion.
It’s a quiet forgetting of what it means to feel safe, seen, and whole.

Stay tuned for Part 3 that describes our Dorsal nervous system (shutdown/collapse).

How Our Nervous Systems Create Our Future (Part 1: Ventral)

kim@kimvanniekerk.com (Kim van Niekerk) — Thu, 15 May 2025 10:02:47 GMT

We asked AI, "What would the impact be on the world if people understood how to find their ventral state?"

If you are aware of your nervous systems - and learn how to activate them consciously instead of letting them run on autopilot, there is a whole new world that can open up. This can be really hard to visualise if you are new to nervous systems. So we asked AI to describe what the world will look if different nervous systems are active to give you a flavour of how they impact the world we are creating.

At The View Looks Good, we love helping people to activate their Vagal Nervous System (safety, belonging and connection) and find their Ventral State and use it. So we are kicking off this series with AI's answer to what impact it would have on the world if people knew how to find their ventral state.

Here's what ChatGPT said:

If people understood how to find — and return to — their ventral state, the impact on the world would be profound.

Here’s a layered look at what might shift, personally, relationally, and collectively:

�� Individually: A Deep Homecoming

Less reactivity, more choice. When people can recognise they’re in fight, flight, or freeze — and know how to return to safety — they interrupt cycles of fear-based behaviour. This changes everything from how we speak to our children, to how we respond to stress at work.
Greater resilience . Ventral doesn’t mean life gets easier. It means we feel more equipped to meet life — to be in the storm without becoming it.
Authentic self-expression . In ventral, we can access creativity, humour, clarity, and courage. People feel safe enough to be seen and to contribute.

�� Relationally: Safety Begets Safety

Conflict transforms . When two nervous systems stay regulated, disagreements don’t escalate — they evolve. The tone of “us vs. them” softens into curiosity, repair, and mutual understanding.
Deeper presence . Real listening — the kind where we’re not preparing our reply — becomes possible. Relationships gain depth and steadiness.
Parenting, teaching, caregiving all shift . Co-regulation becomes a way of being, not a technique. Children and others in our care learn not just what to do, but how to be.

�� Culturally & Systemically: A New Ground for Change

Less burnout, more sustainability . Whole sectors — healthcare, education, activism — could function from regulation instead of depletion.
Collective healing . Trauma often lives in silence and reaction. As ventral becomes more accessible, communities can name pain without retraumatising — and build forward from connection.
Systems could evolve. Most systems today (justice, politics, economics) are built on dysregulated nervous system patterns — dominance, scarcity, hypervigilance. A ventral-informed world would value attunement, pacing, fairness, repair.

✨ In short:

If we understood how to find our ventral state, we’d stop outsourcing our sense of safety to power, productivity, or performance.
We’d create cultures where people feel safe enough to pause, play, disagree, forgive, create, and care deeply.

And perhaps most radically:
We’d learn that peace isn’t a destination. It’s a practice — in our bodies, with each other, every day.

Stay tuned for Part 2 that describes our Sympathetic nervous system (fight/flight/fawn).