Araucaria #3
Safety
May 31, 2026
Safety doesn't begin in the mind, it begins in the body. In this episode I look at what it actually means to feel safe: not as a concept, but as a state we can sense in our breath, our shoulders, our nervous system.
Drawing on polyvagal theory, the work of Stephen Porges, Bessel van der Kolk, and Pat Ogden, I talk about neuroception, the way our nervous system reads safety and threat before conscious thought catches up. About co-regulation: how one calm body can help settle another. And about why being seen and heard isn't a luxury, but a foundation. The episode includes simple somatic invitations so you can come back to the experience itself, not only the words about it.
Audio not available in English.
Transcript
You are listening to Araucaria. What story do you need to hear to heal?
Imagine for a moment that you're walking through a forest at dusk. The path is narrow, the trees are tall, the air a little cooler. Your body becomes slightly more alert. Maybe you start to listen more carefully, maybe your breath grows a little shallower. That's natural. Our bodies were made to recognize danger.
And now imagine that in the distance you see a light. A small campfire. Someone is sitting beside it, you hear a calm voice, maybe even laughter. And suddenly something in your body begins to change. Your shoulders drop a little lower, your breath deepens, your steps slow down.
This is exactly the experience of safety. Not as a concept, but as a state in the body.
Today on Araucaria we're going to pause at precisely this experience, at the sense of safety. At what it is, not as an idea, but as something we can feel in the body, experience within it. We'll talk about how our nervous system recognizes safety and danger, what role relationships with other people play in this, and why we so deeply need to be seen and heard. We'll also draw on contemporary psychological and neurobiological knowledge, including polyvagal theory and trauma work. But above all we'll keep returning to experience, to what happens in the body when even a little bit of safety appears. And perhaps to how we can slowly return to that experience.
In our culture we often learn that thoughts govern our lives. That if we understand something well, our emotions will change. But many of the processes that determine how we actually feel in the world and in relationships often begin deeper than thoughts, precisely in the body and in the autonomic nervous system.
We could use a metaphor that even our grandmothers passed down, that the body holds its own wisdom.
Stephen Porges calls this process neuroception. It's our nervous system's ability to unconsciously recognize safety or danger. The body is constantly asking itself: Is it safe here? Do I need to defend myself? Can I relax?
Imagine for a moment a situation like this. You walk into a room. Nothing in particular is happening. Nobody says anything. And yet something in your body tenses. Or another situation, someone looks up, gazes at you calmly, maybe even smiles slightly. And the body reacts differently. That is exactly neuroception.
It's also worth adding that polyvagal theory is one way of understanding how the nervous system works, and it's still being debated in the scientific world. At the same time, many of the phenomena it describes, such as the influence of relationships on regulation, find confirmation in research.
It has long been observed that when we breathe calmly, the heart begins to slow gently. This too shows how much our body is an interconnected system. Breath, heart, nervous system. And sometimes it really takes very little for the body to slowly begin to calm down.
Our bodies don't seek safety in words. They seek it in signals, in the tone of voice, in a gaze, in presence. And this is how we regulate one another.
Think of a small child who falls down. First it looks at the adult's face, and only then does it decide whether it's safe. One person's calm nervous system can help calm another. But for this to be possible, we need at least a little of our own stability. Safety in a relationship begins in one body. But, and this gives hope, it can spread to others.
Bessel van der Kolk writes that one of the most important foundations of mental health is our ability to feel safe in the presence of other people. From this we can draw the conclusion that safe bonds are not an addition, but a foundation. We need someone to see us, to hear us, and above all to hold us in their heart.
You can pause for a moment now and check whether there's someone in whose presence you feel even a little calmer.
I like this sentence: life is rhythm. The heart beats, the breath flows. We are rhythmic organisms. And often it's precisely rhythm that helps us return to balance.
I remember a situation from my practice when I was working with a little girl who was struggling with her hyperactivity. And what an important moment it was when we took drums and began to play one rhythm together. At first it was hard, hard to synchronize, but looking into each other's eyes every now and then, being in that closer contact, sitting next to each other and tapping out that rhythm meant that at a certain point we began to play the same melody. And at the same time I noticed how her nervous system, how her hyperactivity began to lose its intensity.
I have a feeling that when it comes especially to restoring a sense of safety, art plays an enormous role. Because sometimes we return to safety not only through relationships, but precisely also through art, through music, movement, story. Art has its own rhythm and helps the body to feel. To feel what so often seems unsayable, hard to put into words. Sometimes images, melodies, or stories express far more.
If we once felt safe with someone, that experience stays in the body, it's recorded in it. And it can later be slowly revived, as if restored. When, however, it was missing, then relationship itself can be the place where we learn it anew, together, accompanied by the other person.
Pat Ogden speaks of how safety can be built from the body, from simple things, from the feeling of the feet on the ground, from experiencing one's own breath, from the sense of support.
You can check for a moment now whether you feel your body, in what way you experience it.
And now I'd like to offer you a small exercise. Look around calmly, find three things that are neutral or pleasant for you. And rest your gaze on them. You don't have to change your breathing. Allow your body to notice that right now it is safe enough.
To sum up, safety is not always something we were given. Sometimes it's something we learn slowly. And maybe today, on this journey, it's enough to be a little less alone.
Thank you for this time we spent together at Araucaria, and I'll talk to you next time.
Imagine for a moment that you're walking through a forest at dusk. The path is narrow, the trees are tall, the air a little cooler. Your body becomes slightly more alert. Maybe you start to listen more carefully, maybe your breath grows a little shallower. That's natural. Our bodies were made to recognize danger.
And now imagine that in the distance you see a light. A small campfire. Someone is sitting beside it, you hear a calm voice, maybe even laughter. And suddenly something in your body begins to change. Your shoulders drop a little lower, your breath deepens, your steps slow down.
This is exactly the experience of safety. Not as a concept, but as a state in the body.
Today on Araucaria we're going to pause at precisely this experience, at the sense of safety. At what it is, not as an idea, but as something we can feel in the body, experience within it. We'll talk about how our nervous system recognizes safety and danger, what role relationships with other people play in this, and why we so deeply need to be seen and heard. We'll also draw on contemporary psychological and neurobiological knowledge, including polyvagal theory and trauma work. But above all we'll keep returning to experience, to what happens in the body when even a little bit of safety appears. And perhaps to how we can slowly return to that experience.
In our culture we often learn that thoughts govern our lives. That if we understand something well, our emotions will change. But many of the processes that determine how we actually feel in the world and in relationships often begin deeper than thoughts, precisely in the body and in the autonomic nervous system.
We could use a metaphor that even our grandmothers passed down, that the body holds its own wisdom.
Stephen Porges calls this process neuroception. It's our nervous system's ability to unconsciously recognize safety or danger. The body is constantly asking itself: Is it safe here? Do I need to defend myself? Can I relax?
Imagine for a moment a situation like this. You walk into a room. Nothing in particular is happening. Nobody says anything. And yet something in your body tenses. Or another situation, someone looks up, gazes at you calmly, maybe even smiles slightly. And the body reacts differently. That is exactly neuroception.
It's also worth adding that polyvagal theory is one way of understanding how the nervous system works, and it's still being debated in the scientific world. At the same time, many of the phenomena it describes, such as the influence of relationships on regulation, find confirmation in research.
It has long been observed that when we breathe calmly, the heart begins to slow gently. This too shows how much our body is an interconnected system. Breath, heart, nervous system. And sometimes it really takes very little for the body to slowly begin to calm down.
Our bodies don't seek safety in words. They seek it in signals, in the tone of voice, in a gaze, in presence. And this is how we regulate one another.
Think of a small child who falls down. First it looks at the adult's face, and only then does it decide whether it's safe. One person's calm nervous system can help calm another. But for this to be possible, we need at least a little of our own stability. Safety in a relationship begins in one body. But, and this gives hope, it can spread to others.
Bessel van der Kolk writes that one of the most important foundations of mental health is our ability to feel safe in the presence of other people. From this we can draw the conclusion that safe bonds are not an addition, but a foundation. We need someone to see us, to hear us, and above all to hold us in their heart.
You can pause for a moment now and check whether there's someone in whose presence you feel even a little calmer.
I like this sentence: life is rhythm. The heart beats, the breath flows. We are rhythmic organisms. And often it's precisely rhythm that helps us return to balance.
I remember a situation from my practice when I was working with a little girl who was struggling with her hyperactivity. And what an important moment it was when we took drums and began to play one rhythm together. At first it was hard, hard to synchronize, but looking into each other's eyes every now and then, being in that closer contact, sitting next to each other and tapping out that rhythm meant that at a certain point we began to play the same melody. And at the same time I noticed how her nervous system, how her hyperactivity began to lose its intensity.
I have a feeling that when it comes especially to restoring a sense of safety, art plays an enormous role. Because sometimes we return to safety not only through relationships, but precisely also through art, through music, movement, story. Art has its own rhythm and helps the body to feel. To feel what so often seems unsayable, hard to put into words. Sometimes images, melodies, or stories express far more.
If we once felt safe with someone, that experience stays in the body, it's recorded in it. And it can later be slowly revived, as if restored. When, however, it was missing, then relationship itself can be the place where we learn it anew, together, accompanied by the other person.
Pat Ogden speaks of how safety can be built from the body, from simple things, from the feeling of the feet on the ground, from experiencing one's own breath, from the sense of support.
You can check for a moment now whether you feel your body, in what way you experience it.
And now I'd like to offer you a small exercise. Look around calmly, find three things that are neutral or pleasant for you. And rest your gaze on them. You don't have to change your breathing. Allow your body to notice that right now it is safe enough.
To sum up, safety is not always something we were given. Sometimes it's something we learn slowly. And maybe today, on this journey, it's enough to be a little less alone.
Thank you for this time we spent together at Araucaria, and I'll talk to you next time.