At times, during moments of stillness in my day, or when I’m sitting, I feel like my heart is racing.  
As if the quiet and the stilling of my body sends my insides into overdrive.  It’s been hard for me to decipher whether or not this excessive motor running is happening throughout my day or if it kicks into gear when I stop doing.  

There have even been a few times when I’ve laid down to sleep and for a few moments I experience my heart thundering so forcefully, I can place my hand over it and feel my chest shudder.

It’s not unlike a panic attack, and yet it comes at times when I am the most “at peace” (some days that’s relative, right?) during my day.

The accompaniment of this adrenaline surge in times of quiet makes resting and sitting challenging.


So why is this happening?

And, what do I do about it?

Perhaps the heart racing happens throughout the day and I am too busy to notice.

Perhaps the slowing down and quiet allow me to attune to the racing of my heart.

Perhaps my heart is just letting me know that it is there, gratefully and boisterously receiving the slowing down.

Maybe it is not my heart that is racing, but me who is racing, and my heart is catching its breath with the stillness.


At first the feeling threw me into a panic.  Always a healthy response--panicking over the potential of a panic attack.  

Now I am trying to see it as my heart’s reminder for me: I am here, do not forget me. I (you) need some attention, some attuning to.


Stopping and breathing, I receive the perceived pounding.

Taking 3 breaths, I invite self-compassion into the space around my heart: may I take refuge in myself, may I take care of myself, may I embrace this energy and open to it.

Placing a hand over my heart, I am reminded of myself.

Just as I would ask a friend or loved one how I might help, I take a moment to ask my body, my heart, what they need.  

Maybe just to be acknowledged and felt.
Maybe just to be held in a moment of quiet amidst all the spinning.


There is always a longing within us to be seen by those we love.

Seeing ourselves, acknowledging ourselves, is a critical part of self-compassion.

Sometimes we just need a reminder.

I know you are there. I have not forgotten.


Amiee Peri