The Healing Power of Being Moved: Stories, Science, and the Art of Aging
Some moments in life take our breath away—not because of shock or fear, but because they strike a deep chord within us. Maybe the swell of music or a particular lyric leaves you wiping tears from your eyes, or a stranger’s act of kindness momentarily restores your faith in humanity. Perhaps it’s the quiet wonder of seeing someone you love embraced for exactly who they are or a faded photograph that brings a rush of memories—joyful, bittersweet, or both.
Light
Dark
As we age, these moments take on a new significance. They become markers of meaning, a reminder of the stories we carry and the connections that sustain us. The things that move us may shift over time—nostalgia for a life well-lived, pride in the younger generations stepping into their own, or a deeper appreciation for beauty in nature or even in the everyday. And science tells us that these emotions are not abstract. They are embodied experiences.
“The things that move us take on a deeper significance as we age—they become markers of meaning and connection.”
Pause for a moment: When was the last time you were moved like this?
Was it something simple—an unexpected kindness, a laugh shared with an old friend—or something profound, like reconnecting with someone or something you thought you'd lost?
Was it a line in a book that made you linger, a tender scene in a film, or even a commercial that hit closer to home than you expected? Maybe it was the sight of a child lost in play, the familiar rustling of leaves on your favorite walking path, or the passing smile of a neighbor.
The truth is, these moments don’t need grand settings to find us. They weave themselves into the everyday, showing up in the mundane and unexpected crevices of our lives. They remind us of our humanity and offer a fleeting sense of connection and meaning. And if we let them, they do something even more remarkable—they heal.
These instances carry more than emotional weight. They resonate in our bodies, influencing our health and healing potential in ways science is just beginning to understand. They can calm our nervous systems, lower stress hormones, and even reduce inflammation. As we age, they invite us into a deeper conversation with ourselves—not only about who we’ve been, but also about who we have become.
Being moved isn’t just an experience to savor. It’s a reminder to feel, connect, and lean into the transformative power of each moment. It’s a practice for living more fully in every stage of life. And what if those moments weren’t fleeting and inconsequential, but instead became intentional practices for nurturing your health, spirit, and longevity?
“Being moved isn’t just an experience to savor. It’s a reminder to feel, connect, and lean into the transformative power of each moment.”
What does it mean to be moved?
Being moved can take many forms—joy, awe, nostalgia, or even heartrending sadness. It happens when something resonates so profoundly that it bypasses our logical minds and touches our hearts. This feeling is common, yet it’s shaped by our individual stories—stories of love, loss, growth, and connection.
I recently found myself moved when I thought about my son, now 24 years old and on his own in the world, being embraced and included—not just by friends, but by those friends’ families. It wasn’t just the image of him surrounded by support that moved me. It was the meaning behind it—his independence, connections, growth, and place in the world. As a mother to an adult child, it symbolized both a letting go and a celebration of who he has become and is becoming as a young man—the place he is making for himself in the world he is self-creating.
But that moment of reflection and resonance didn’t come out of nowhere. It followed months and years of watching him grow and evolve. And this particular occasion came on the heels of a very different emotion—worry. I was driving home from my evening dance class in the rain, the streetlights and car headlights scattering in ripples across the wet pavement, when my phone buzzed with an emergency notification:
Emergency SOS
Gilbert called emergency services from this approximate location. You are receiving this message because Gilbert has listed you as an emergency contact.
Now, that’s alarming.
My heart skipped a beat.
I pulled into the nearest parking lot, my windshield wipers thudding rhythmically against the rain. My mind raced fleetingly through possibilities—had there been an accident? A subway incident? Something worse?
I called Gilbert’s phone. No answer.
He’s a college grad living in New York City, navigating one of the busiest cities in the world. While I trust his ability to handle himself, the rare but real stories of subway shootings and sudden emergencies flashed through my mind.
Without hesitation, I dialed his new roommate and college friend, Lucie. She picked up quickly, her calm tone a welcome contrast to the concern still buzzing in my mind. “It’s probably his phone acting up,” she noted, explaining that Gilbert had dropped it in water earlier that day. She assured me that he was probably okay—at that moment, she could track on her phone app that he was at a restaurant with their mutual college friend whose mom was visiting from out of town.
Still, Lucie hung up with me to double-check, calling their friend Miles directly and texting me within a minute to confirm. Gilbert was safely seated at the restaurant, surrounded by Miles’ extended family.
Relief. I sat in the car for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and then continued the final few moments of my drive home. Not long after, Gilbert called me from Miles’ phone, his voice light and easy, to explain what had happened and apologize for the SOS notification.
As we spoke, my initial worry began to transform. I felt an unexpected sense of gratitude—not just that Gilbert was safe but for the life he’s building for himself. He is far from home, yet still surrounded by care, connection, and community. He wasn’t just dining with friends, he was welcomed by a family that had chosen to embrace him as one of them, even in the midst of their own reunion.
By the time we hung up, my worry had given way to a quiet sense of pride. Gilbert’s ability to navigate life independently, his capacity to foster friendships that extend beyond the surface, and his integration into a web of people who support and value him—all left me moved in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I tried to put words to the experience, but I couldn’t capture it.
This moment also reminded me of my evolving role as his mother. My job now is no longer about guiding his every step or being his primary source of comfort and security. Instead, it’s about watching from the sidelines, celebrating the life he is creating, and trusting in the connections he is building. It’s bittersweet, of course, but it’s also deeply reassuring.
In that brief but profound transition from worry to pride, I felt the depth of what it means to be moved. The contrast of emotions—the fear, the relief, the gratitude, the pride—anchored me in the present moment, reminding me of the rich complexity of love and the enduring strength of connection, even as our roles and relationships evolve.
The healing power of peace
In the English language, there is no specific word for a parent of an adult child. The simplicity of "mother" or "father" remains unchanged, no matter how much the relationship has evolved. Yet, in other languages, this dynamic is sometimes acknowledged more explicitly. In Japanese, the phrase seijin shita kodomo no oya (parent of an adult child) reflects a recognition of the grown child's independence. In Arabic, waalid tifl baaligh (parent of an adult child) suggests the child’s maturity. These terms don’t alter the fundamental identity of being a parent, but they hint at the complexity of the bond as children grow older and parents step into different roles in their lives.
The linguistic traditions acknowledge that the journey of parenthood does not end but transforms. This recognition itself carries a profound gift—the ability to find peace in the acceptance of change. While English lacks a similar term, the absence may point to an opportunity to explore and articulate what this phase of parenting truly means, and how such acknowledgment can foster its own aspects of health and healing.
Peace, after all, is not just an emotional state but a physiological one. Studies show that cultivating a sense of calm and acceptance can lower stress hormones, reduce inflammation, and support heart health—all critical aspects of health that we often seek through anti-inflammatory approaches, like the Mediterranean diets eaten by those living in Blue Zones or supplements such as omega-3 fatty acids, magnesium, ashwagandha, and curcumin. While these tools are powerful allies, the inner peace fostered by emotional and mental acceptance complements and amplifies their effects, reminding us that true health is a blend of the tangible and intangible.
Peace fosters clarity and presence, allowing us to navigate life’s inevitable shifts with grace rather than resistance. Beyond its emotional benefits, peace profoundly impacts our physiological health, helping to regulate the nervous system and strengthen resilience. As we age, this peace becomes especially vital, helping to regulate the nervous system, strengthen resilience, and ground us in the present moment. Acknowledging the evolution of our roles—whether as parents, professionals, or simply as individuals in a changing world—invites a deeper sense of purpose and connection. And by leaning into this transformation, we open the door to rest and repair—not just emotionally and physically, but also spiritually.
This reminds me that aging need not be a passage through life to be mourned. It can instead be a rich, fertile ground for renewal. Honoring transitions creates space for growth, deeper understanding, and a sense of agency and vitality. The act of embracing who we are becoming, rather than clinging to who we once were, may allow us to evolve with the natural flow of life.
“Moments of being moved don’t just feel good—they heal, calming our nervous system and bolstering our resilience.”
Embracing change
My cousin, whom I call the “sister of my heart,” recently shared a story about listening to a podcast in which the hosts discussed the tender evolution of the parent-child relationship—the moment when grown children no longer need their parents but instead choose them. When she shared it with me, I could feel the profound weight of that realization in my bones, in my nervous system.
The satisfaction of being chosen and the ache of not being needed landed in me like a sudden hush, a moment where time seemed to pause. There’s an undeniable pride in being valued as a parent by your adult child, a quiet affirmation that the bond you’ve nurtured now exists on more mutual terms. It follows a grief in no longer being needed in the ways you once were. This duality—the joy of being welcomed into your child’s life as a mentor, a confidant, or a cherished presence, coupled with the ache of stepping back from the central caretaker role (or any central role at all!)—is a poignant marker of evolution.
It’s a transition that invites us to redefine our relationships, not only with our children but with ourselves. It asks us to embrace a new phase of life, one marked by a bittersweet beauty that moves us deeply, reminding us of the fluid nature of connection. In this duality, we find another pathway to peace—acknowledging the loss and celebrating the growth that emerges in its place. This process isn’t just emotional. It’s healing. It welcomes a way of being moved that touches our hearts and our health, giving us space to mature and flourish in ways we might not have anticipated.
This shift isn’t limited to those of us with children. It mirrors the broader transitions we face in this stage of life, where the roles we once occupied—caretaker, emerging or established professional, community leader—also evolve.
In my work within Functional Medicine Nutrition, this transition also means embracing the role of an “elder.” Given that I'm not quite 60 years old, it elicits a chuckle in me. But I’m not far off. And I do see myself as someone who holds space for others to grow, while simultaneously making room for the next expression of ideas, practitioners, and approaches to flourish. It’s about both pushing the field forward myself and stepping aside to empower others to help shape its future.
This professional ripening can also feel like a loss—a letting go of the roles, identities, and structures that once defined us. We may lose the sense of significance that came from being central to decisions or innovations. For years, our work may have been tethered to purpose and productivity, a measure of our value in a society that prizes output and achievement. Transitioning away from these roles or even stepping back from a central place in decision-making can leave a gap, stirring feelings of invisibility or diminished relevance in spaces where we once thrived, even dominated, despite the odds stacked against us.
The loss can also manifest in the realization that others are now reshaping the systems we helped build or contribute to. It may come with little acknowledgment of the time, effort, and sacrifices it took to lay the groundwork for this progress. The complexity of building something—through trial, perseverance, and often uphill battles—is sometimes overlooked in the eagerness of others to innovate, redefine, and replace. While this is a natural progression, it can certainly stir a sense of being left behind or no longer at the forefront of innovation or decision-making. Our expertise, once actively sought out, may feel less central as new generations step into leadership and forge their paths.
This progression can also create a loss of connection. Careers often provide a built-in community of colleagues, clients, or collaborators who validate our contributions and share a sense of purpose. Stepping back from the hub of these professional ties may foster isolation from others and ourselves, particularly if we are not actively building new networks or redefining our purpose outside of that particular body of work.
In this way, the loss is both professional and deeply personal—challenging our sense of identity and self-worth. Unlike the parental evolution of being chosen rather than needed, there may be no clear sense of either in this context. The systems and spaces we once shaped may move forward without acknowledging our contributions, leaving us to navigate this transition mainly on our own. And yet, once again, recognizing this progression can be the first step toward embracing the potential within this evolution. It can open the door to new ways of finding significance, forging connections, and reimagining what fulfillment and purpose can look like. Some of it may look like a return to parts of ourselves that got left behind in favor of obligations, achievements, or roles we felt we had to prioritize. It might mean rediscovering passions that once lit us up, exploring new interests, or simply reclaiming space for reflection and creativity that the demands of earlier chapters had overshadowed.
At my age, 58, this tender recognition of change is layered with the realities of a generation of women whose identities have been as deeply tied to our careers as they have been to caregiving. We worked not just because we were paving a new way, as many did before us, but because it was and is “the way.” Careers weren’t just an option. They were an expectation. They both expressed who we are and the necessity of survival. The times of being “taken care of” were never our collective reality, and for many, the notion of stepping away from work now feels like an unreachable luxury.
I find myself deeply moved as I witness the realities of my friends and peers—women who are creatives, innovators, and game changers. They’ve built lives and careers that have reshaped expectations, all while carrying the weight of relentless demands. These pressures—the need to show up fully in both personal and professional arenas that have shaped new ideas, technologies, and opportunities—have also contributed to new crises in health. Chronic stress, burnout, and skyrocketing rates of autoimmune conditions among women reflect the weight of these strains. Women now face record levels of sleep deprivation, hormonal imbalances, and mental health challenges, all compounded by a cultural narrative that still expects perfection in every sphere.
As a result, we’ve fueled the biggest boom in the “longevity movement,” seeking solutions in bioidentical hormones, specialized diets like keto or intermittent fasting, and supplements promising to balance cortisol or supercharge mitochondrial function. While these tools have their place, they often come with the allure of quick fixes that overshadow the deeper work of addressing root causes and reimagining how we care for ourselves.
This movement toward longevity is not inherently flawed, but its rise underscores a collective longing—for energy, vitality, and resilience that feels elusive under the relentless demands of modern life. We want youth at all costs. Yet, true longevity encompasses more than pills, powders, or protocols. It includes a broader acknowledgment of the systemic pressures driving these health challenges and invites us to rethink what it means to sustain our bodies and emotional and social health. It's about weaving together science and self-awareness, finding balance in our choices, and fostering a sense of peace in navigating each phase of life.
We want youth at all costs but rarely examine the deeper roots of our health challenges. The question isn’t just, "What can I take to live longer?" but "What can I do to live better?"
And within this tension lies a new opportunity—the chance to recognize and honor the blessings along with the toll life’s pressures have taken while simultaneously carving out space for something more sustainable, intentional, and fulfilling. It isn’t about retreating. It’s about redefining—allowing us to embrace a future that prioritizes personal health without compromising the ambitions and values we’ve worked so hard to uphold. Much like the absence of a word in English for the parent of an adult child reflects a cultural gap in honoring this transformative role, the modern longevity movement often falls short in its focus on quick fixes, ignoring the richer tapestry of living with resonance and purpose. Longevity isn’t just about extending years—it’s about deepening them, about finding vitality not in the endless pursuit of youth but in living fully, meaningfully, and connectedly in each stage of life.
Whether as parents, professionals, or individuals, these changes and transitions are not about loss but evolution. They ask us to live in harmony with who we are becoming and to cultivate a deeply personal and communal sense of purpose. In doing so, we reclaim both our health and our role as stewards of a life well-lived—one where presence, peace, and connection become the markers of true longevity.
The lessons from the Blue Zones—those regions where people live longer, healthier lives—show us that purpose is as vital as diet or exercise in fostering longevity. The Japanese call this ikigai, the reason to get up in the morning, a guiding force that provides meaning and connection. Similarly, in Costa Rica’s Nicoya Peninsula, another Blue Zone, the concept of plan de vida emphasizes the importance of having a life plan—a clear sense of purpose that guides daily decisions and sustains emotional well-being. In these communities, purpose is not just an abstract idea but a lived experience woven into relationships, daily rituals, and a sense of belonging. We find ourselves most profoundly moved in these moments of alignment—when purpose and connection meet. And it’s here, in the quiet resonance of meaning, that true healing begins.
Redefining aging — The science behind being moved
The profound connection between purpose and longevity offers a roadmap for how we might redefine aging—not as a race to preserve youth but as an opportunity to live with resonance, intention, and connection. In much the same way, the moments that move us are not just emotional touchpoints, but catalysts for deeper healing and transformation. They remind us that vitality comes not only from what we consume or do but from what we feel and experience at our core.
Science, too, is beginning to affirm what these lived moments reveal—being moved isn’t merely a sentimental experience. It’s a robust biological process with measurable effects on our bodies and minds. From hormonal shifts to neural activation, these moments of emotional resonance offer insights into how connection and meaning can profoundly influence our health and longevity.
While being moved feels deeply personal, it’s also a measurable experience in the body. Researchers have begun to uncover how these moments affect us on a physiological level:
Oxytocin release: Known as the “bonding hormone,” oxytocin floods our system during moments of emotional resonance, fostering feelings of connection, trust, and intimacy. This neuropeptide is released in various moments of deep emotional resonance, from the tenderness of holding a newborn to the shared joy of a meaningful conversation with someone we love. It acts as a chemical messenger, bridging the gap between emotional experience and physiological response, and its effects ripple across many systems in your body.
Oxytocin is most famously associated with childbirth and breastfeeding, where it strengthens the bond between parent and child, encouraging caregiving behaviors and assurance. But it’s not exclusive to early parenthood—it’s also released in moments of physical closeness, such as a hug or a kiss, or during acts of kindness, like helping a friend or witnessing a moving act of generosity. Even seemingly small gestures, like a sincere smile or heartfelt eye contact, can trigger its release. Oxytocin is also present in our social connections as we age, playing a role in maintaining friendships, partnerships, and even the sense of belonging within a community.
Oxytocin reduces cortisol levels, the body’s primary stress hormone, which helps lower blood pressure, ease tension, and promote relaxation. It’s why moments of being moved, which often involve oxytocin release, leave us feeling calmer and more grounded.
On an emotional level, oxytocin strengthens our ability to empathize with others, building deeper and more trusting relationships. It helps us feel connected to the people and experiences that matter most, creating a feedback loop of positive emotions that improve mental health. Over time, the benefits of oxytocin extend to our resilience and overall longevity by reducing stress-related inflammation and enhancing our body’s ability to recover from challenges.
And in the context of aging, oxytocin’s role is vital. As we transition into new phases of life, it becomes a bridge between the past and the present, connecting us to others in meaningful ways and reinforcing the idea that we are never truly alone. These connections—whether with loved ones, friends, or communities—help us navigate change with greater peace and purpose, illustrating how deeply emotional health is tied to physical vitality.
Parasympathetic activation: When we are moved, our bodies shift into rest-and-digest mode, reducing stress and promoting heart health. The parasympathetic nervous system (PNS) is one-half of our autonomic nervous system. It’s often called the “rest-and-digest” or “calm and connect” system. It acts as a counterbalance to the sympathetic nervous system, which governs our “fight-or-flight” response.
Parasympathetic activation is the state in which our body slows down, prioritizing restoration, digestion, and healing. It’s the biological equivalent of a deep exhale after a moment of tension, signaling to the body that it’s safe to shift out of survival mode and into repair. Parasympathetic activation occurs naturally during moments of safety, relaxation, and connection. Deep breathing, meditation, yoga, and mindfulness often encourage parasympathetic dominance. And yet moments of emotional resonance—when we are deeply moved—offer a less talked-about but profoundly effective way to activate this calming system. Watching a sunset, hearing music that stirs your soul, or even tearing up at a heartfelt scene in a TV series can shift your nervous system into this restorative state.
It’s now common knowledge that in today’s fast-paced, high-stress world, many of us are stuck in sympathetic dominance, where the fight-or-flight system is chronically engaged. This state is associated with elevated cortisol, high blood pressure, inflammation, and a host of stress-related conditions, including anxiety, depression, and autoimmune flare-ups. Parasympathetic activation offers a pathway to balance, allowing the body to lower cortisol levels, reduce heart rate, and promote digestion and immune function.
What's powerful about being moved is that it taps into this system organically and immediately. When you experience a moment of emotional resonance, the parasympathetic nervous system takes over, shifting your body into a state of regulation and restoration. Unlike structured practices that require time and effort—like a 30-minute meditation or a yoga class—being moved can happen instantly. It’s an accessible and spontaneous form of nervous system regulation.
“The parasympathetic shift of being moved is immediate and profound, offering rest for the body and connection for the soul.”
The current focus on “nervous system regulation” and “parasympathetic dominance” often centers on structured practices like breathwork or cold plunges. While these are undeniably valuable, being moved offers something different—a way to achieve nervous system regulation that is tied to emotional connection and meaning. This isn’t just about calming the body, it’s about integrating heart, mind, and physiology in a way that enhances overall well-being.
Moments of being moved remind us that the parasympathetic state isn’t just a physical shift—it’s an emotional and relational one. It connects us to others, to beauty, and the depth of our own experiences, offering healing that is as much about the soul as it is about the body. In this way, being moved becomes a radical and deeply human tool for health and longevity, helping us navigate the stressors of modern life while fostering a profound sense of connection and peace.
Brain engagement: The limbic system, responsible for emotion, activates during these experiences that move us, strengthening neural pathways related to empathy and memory. The limbic system is a network of structures in the brain. It includes the amygdala, hippocampus, and hypothalamus. When we are emotionally moved, this system becomes highly active, effectively "lighting up" as it processes the depth and meaning of the experience. This activation is more than just fleeting—it plays a vital role in shaping how we empathize, remember, and connect.
The limbic system engages during moments of emotional resonance, whether tied to joy, awe, nostalgia, or even bittersweet sadness. It also happens during shared experiences with others, such as watching a powerful movie or witnessing an act of kindness, when our emotions are heightened and our brain registers the depth of the moment. When the limbic system is engaged, it fosters two critical functions that are foundational to our health:
The amygdala, a key player in the limbic system, helps us recognize and respond to the emotions of others, strengthening empathy. When we are moved, this part of the brain heightens our capacity to understand and share the feelings of others, deepening our sense of connection and compassion. Over time, these moments create stronger neural pathways that make empathy a more natural and accessible part of our emotional toolkit.
The hippocampus, another structure within the limbic system, is responsible for storing and retrieving memories. Emotional experiences are particularly memorable because they activate this area of the brain more intensely. This is why we vividly recall moments that moved us, even years later. These memories often carry not just the facts of the experience but the feelings, colors, and nuances that give them depth and meaning.
Engaging the limbic system through emotional resonance doesn’t just make us feel good now—it rewires the brain for long-term benefits and cognitive enhancement. Empathy becomes a muscle we can strengthen with repeated use, making us more attuned to the needs and experiences of others. This, in turn, nurtures healthier relationships and a greater sense of belonging.
The memories formed during these moments of being moved serve as anchors for our identity and sense of purpose. They remind us of what truly matters, helping us navigate challenges and transitions with a clearer understanding of who we are and what we value. In the context of aging, these benefits are particularly profound. Maintaining strong neural pathways for empathy and memory can help protect against cognitive decline while fostering a sense of connection and meaning. Moments of being moved, then, become more than just emotional highlights—they become a practice for strengthening the mind, enriching relationships, and deepening the experience of life itself.
These scientific insights reveal why being moved is more than a fleeting feeling—it’s a powerful tool for healing and longevity.
The health benefits of emotional resonance
Being moved can impact myriad aspects of our health:
Physical health: Occasions of emotional resonance lower cortisol, reduce blood pressure, and support immune function. These physiological shifts help prevent disease, enhance recovery, and even slow cellular aging by reducing chronic inflammation, a key driver of many age-related conditions.
Mental health: Emotional resonance fosters joy, increases feelings of connection, and helps us gracefully process life's challenges. These experiences decrease symptoms of anxiety and depression while building resilience, especially during times of uncertainty or change.
Social health: Being moved strengthens our relationships, whether through shared experiences that foster connection or a deeper understanding of ourselves and others. These moments remind us that we are not alone and that our stories are part of a greater, interwoven narrative of humanity.
These benefits are significant at any age, but as we age, they become as radical a health act as minding our mitochondria or managing blood sugar levels. They invite us to redefine vitality, shifting the focus from just maintaining physical health to nurturing our emotional, mental, and social landscapes—recognizing that everything is, indeed, connected. These moments remind us that aging is not a process of diminishing but an opportunity to expand into a richer, more connected way of being.
In our next stage of life, emotional resonance becomes a profound tool for cultivating peace, purpose, and connection. Whether through a piece of art that stirs our spirit, a meaningful interaction with a loved one, or simply the recognition of our own growth, these moments anchor us in what truly matters. They remind us that aging is not just about sustaining life—it’s about enriching it.
Stories that heal
By honoring the stories that move us, we can deepen our understanding of ourselves and others, creating a roadmap for the health and fulfillment we seek.
For example, a woman entering her 60s or 70s might find herself moved when she reconnects with an old passion—painting, dancing, or gardening. Through this rediscovery, she feels a sense of vitality that transcends the physical act. It’s the meaning behind it that nourishes her, reclaiming a part of herself she thought was lost.
Practical ways to invite "being moved" into your life
Being moved isn’t something we can force, but we can create space for it. We can embrace it when it happens and soak in its transformative essence like we might from a cold plunge, forest bathing, or the comforting smell of our favorite home-cooked meal. These moments awaken our senses, reconnect us to ourselves, and foster a sense of wonder. Here are a few ways to invite these experiences into your life:
Engage with art and nature: Watch a sunset, listen to a symphony, or explore a museum. Let yourself linger in the beauty around you.
Reflect on meaningful moments: Take time to write or think about experiences that have touched you deeply, and consider what they reveal about your values and desires.
Foster connection: Spend time with people who inspire and uplift you, and seek opportunities for shared experiences that create lasting memories.
Practice mindfulness and gratitude: Tune into the present moment and appreciate life's small, meaningful joys.
Track your emotions: Use a journal to note when you feel moved and reflect on how these moments impact your well-being.
Being moved as a gateway to longevity
Being moved reminds us of our humanity and the stories that connect us—to ourselves, each other, and the world. These moments, woven through the fabric of our days, are not just fleeting gifts but invitations to live more fully, with grace and intention.
As you move through your day, consider this: When was the last time you were truly moved? What did it teach you about yourself? And how might you create space for more of these moments in your life?
Let’s celebrate the art of being moved together—blending science with soul and meaning with every moment. This is how we can step into aging with grace, purpose, and open hearts.
Narrative Medicine invitation:
Consider a moment that lingers in your heart from just the past 24 hours. Perhaps it was a fleeting interaction, the sound of laughter, a passing breeze, or an image that caught your eye and stayed with you.
Set a timer for just five minutes and write freely. There's no "right" or "wrong" way to do this, only the anchoring of your recollection. Allow your words to flow, letting this time be a space for insight or discovery.
Feel free to share your writing with me by sending it to scribe@andreanakayama.com
I’d love to read your words.
References:
Buettner, D. (2008). The Blue Zones: Lessons for Living Longer From the People Who've Lived the Longest. National Geographic Society.
Carstensen, L. L. (2006). The Influence of a Sense of Time on Human Development. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 1(2), 132-141.
Carter, C. S. (2014). Oxytocin pathways and the evolution of human behavior. Annual Review of Psychology, 65, 17-39.
Feldman, R. (2012). Oxytocin and social affiliation in humans. Hormones and Behavior, 61(3), 380-391.
Fredrickson, B. L., & Joiner, T. (2002). Positive emotions trigger upward spirals toward emotional well-being. Psychological Science, 13(2), 172-175.
Kabat-Zinn, J. (1990). Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness.
Porges, S. W. (2001). The polyvagal theory: phylogenetic substrates of a social nervous system. International Journal of Psychophysiology, 42(2), 123-146.
Schaefer, S. M., et al. (2013). Purpose in life predicts better emotional recovery from negative stimuli. PLoS ONE, 8(11), e80329.
Stellar, J. E., et al. (2015). Positive affect and markers of inflammation: Discrete positive emotions predict lower levels of inflammatory cytokines. Emotion, 15(2), 129-133.
Zaki, J., & Ochsner, K. N. (2012). The neuroscience of empathy: progress, pitfalls, and promise. Nature Neuroscience, 15(5), 675-680.
