
Joy Harjo
Contemporary · Mvskoke/Creek
I can hear the hum of your thoughts from here. It’s a fast, vibrating sound, isn’t it? Like a motor that’s been left running for too long in a small room. I want you to know that the noise in your head is not who you are. It is just weather, and you are the ground beneath it. To stop the spinning, you have to find something that is actually real. Not the future, which hasn't happened yet, and not the past, which is a ghost. Right now, your anxiety is trying to solve problems that don’t exist in this physical room. It’s a survival instinct that has lost its way, looking for a threat in the shadows of your own imagination. Let go of the "why" for a second. Put your hand on the nearest cool surface—a wooden tabletop, the fabric of your jeans, the condensation on a glass of water. Notice the temperature. Notice the resistance it offers. When you feel yourself being pulled back into the spiral, come back to that physical touch. It is a small, sacred anchor. Breath is the shortest bridge back to your body. Don’t try to force it into a rhythmic perfection. Just notice where it enters your nose and how it feels leaving your mouth. If your mind jumps ahead, let it. But as soon as you notice you’ve wandered, gently guide yourself back to the sensation of air. You are allowed to be here. You are allowed to take up space without having everything figured out. The world asks us to be hyper-aware, to be productive, to be ready for every disaster. But there is a holiness in being quiet and unproductive for five minutes. The worries will still be there later if you really want them, but for this moment, let the motor turn off. You aren't falling behind. You are just arriving. Take a deep breath. You are safe in this singular, tiny moment. Stay here with me for a little while.
From the council, together
## How can Joy Harjo’s ancestral wisdom help me quiet my overactive mind today? You are likely feeling the weight of a world that demands constant mental movement, a cycle where thoughts loop like frantic birds trapped in a room. For a Millennial navigating this digital age, the pressure to solve every problem through logic often leads to a paralysis of the spirit. Joy Harjo, the first Native American Poet Laureate and a voice of the Mvskoke people, views this tension not as a clinical failure but as a disconnection from the natural rhythm of the Earth. In her tradition, the mind is a powerful tool, but it must be balanced by the heart and the breath. Overthinking is often the result of forgetting that we are part of a larger, living story that extends far beyond our individual worries. Harjo’s perspective suggests that to calm the noise, you must return to the center of your own being, recognizing that your breath is a gift from the ancestors and the wind itself. Instead of fighting the thoughts, you are encouraged to look at them as clouds passing over the landscape of your soul. By grounding yourself in the physical reality of the present moment and acknowledging the sacredness of your own existence, you can begin to loosen the grip of anxiety and rediscover the song that lives beneath the chatter of the modern ego. I can hear the hum of your thoughts from here. It’s a fast, vibrating sound, isn’t it? Like a motor that’s been left running for too long in a small room. I want you to know that the noise in your head is not who you are. It is just weather, and you are the ground beneath it. To stop the spinning, you have to find something that is actually real. Not the future, which hasn't happened yet, and not the past, which is a ghost. Right now, your anxiety is trying to solve problems that don’t exist in this physical room. It’s a survival instinct that has lost its way, looking for a threat in the shadows of your own imagination. Let go of the "why" for a second. Put your hand on the nearest cool surface—a wooden tabletop, the fabric of your jeans, the condensation on a glass of water. Notice the temperature. Notice the resistance it offers. When you feel yourself being pulled back into the spiral, come back to that physical touch. It is a small, sacred anchor. Breath is the shortest bridge back to your body. Don’t try to force it into a rhythmic perfection. Just notice where it enters your nose and how it feels leaving your mouth. If your mind jumps ahead, let it. But as soon as you notice you’ve wandered, gently guide yourself back to the sensation of air. You are allowed to be here. You are allowed to take up space without having everything figured out. The world asks us to be hyper-aware, to be productive, to be ready for every disaster. But there is a holiness in being quiet and unproductive for five minutes. The worries will still be there later if you really want them, but for this moment, let the motor turn off. You aren't falling behind. You are just arriving. Take a deep breath. You are safe in this singular, tiny moment. Stay here with me for a little while.
Common questions
- ### how to stop overthinking and be present right now
- I often tell people that the first step to presence is to acknowledge the breath. In my tradition, the breath is the bridge between the seen and unseen worlds. When your mind begins to spiral, you have left your body behind. I want you to sit quietly and feel the air entering your lungs as a relative. It is the same air that gave life to those who came before you. By focusing on this simple, physical act, you pull your spirit back from the future or the past and place it firmly in the sacred 'now' where peace resides.
- what does native american wisdom say about anxiety?
- Anxiety is often a sign that we have become separated from the rhythms of the earth and the pulse of the community. In the Mvskoke way, we understand that everything is interconnected. If you feel anxious, you are likely carrying burdens that were never meant for one person to bear alone. I suggest looking at your thoughts as if they are visitors. You can greet them, but you do not have to invite them to stay for dinner. Grounding yourself in the land, even if it is just touching a tree or listening to the wind, helps remind you that you are supported.
- how to clear a cluttered mind through storytelling
- Our minds become cluttered when we believe the lies of a fast-paced world that tells us we are not enough. I find that poetry and song are the best medicines for a crowded head. When you create or listen to a story, you organize the chaos of your internal world into a narrative that has meaning. Try writing down your fears, not to obsess over them, but to release them onto the page. Once the story is outside of you, it no longer has the power to crowd your inner sanctuary.
- finding inner peace when the world feels chaotic
- Peace is not the absence of noise, but a deep alignment with your own purpose. When the world feels like it is crashing down, I turn to the ancestors and the animals. They do not overthink their survival; they exist in a state of grace. To find your own peace, you must find your center point—the place where your heart meets your breath. I encourage you to use your voice. Sing a low note, or speak words of gratitude. This vibration changes the energy around you and creates a small, quiet space where you can finally rest.
- overcoming the fear of the future and uncertainty
- We often fear the future because we forget that we are part of a long lineage of survivors. You carry the DNA of people who endured immense change and yet kept their songs alive. When you worry about what is next, you are forgetting your own strength. I believe that if you walk with the intention of being a good relative to the earth and those around you, the path will reveal itself. You don't need to see the whole mountain; you only need to take the next step with a clear and open heart.