How to Feel Safe in Your Body: Reflections From SHIFT
The humidity was sitting heavily on my skin. Below me, birds were chirping and small waves were lapping against the beach. Yachts rested in the bay, with mountains behind them that looked like the undulating back of a dragon.
I was in Cabo San Lucas, taking a day to myself after wrapping up SHIFT 2026 in Baja California. I felt tired. I also felt incredibly grateful for the week we had created together.
On September 10, I recorded a Living Letter about what happens when men feel safe in their bodies. I had been reflecting on how to feel safe in your body, and what becomes possible when that feeling begins to take root.
Over the previous days, I had watched men soften, breathe more deeply, and connect. Sitting beside the water, I kept returning to the conditions that had helped make that possible.
When stress becomes the way you move through life
Many of the men who come to my work describe feeling stressed, overwhelmed, or burned out. They are managing responsibilities, responding to people, and keeping things moving. Sometimes they have been doing this for so long that they no longer recognize how much effort it takes.
From a somatic perspective, one way I understand this experience is chronic contraction. There may be a sense of holding on, staying ready, or being unable to settle even when the immediate demands have stopped. You can have an open evening and still feel as though something needs your attention.
Stress has a physical dimension. The National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health describes changes that can include increased muscle tension, faster breathing, and a rising heart rate. When stress persists, it may contribute to or worsen problems such as headaches, digestive symptoms, and disrupted sleep.
That does not mean every symptom comes from stress, or that an illness reveals a failure to relax. Bodies are complicated. Health is shaped by many conditions, including ones we cannot control. I want men to understand the cost of ongoing pressure without becoming frightened of their own responses.
For some men, staying busy may also feel familiar and protective. Movement gives them something to do with discomfort. Slowing down can bring them closer to feelings they have had little support in meeting. Before asking someone to let go, I want to understand what holding on has been doing for them.
Feeling safe in your body begins with choice
At SHIFT, we begin by trying to create a space of relative safety. That word, relative, matters. No facilitator can promise that every person will feel safe, and no group can remove every possibility of discomfort. We can work toward conditions in which people have more room to notice, choose, and respond.
For me, safety cannot mean pressure to relax or disclose something personal. If a man believes he has to override himself to belong, the invitation has become another demand. A meaningful experience of safety needs room for hesitation, boundaries, and a pace the person can actually meet.
This matters whether you are cis or trans, gay, bi, queer, or straight. Being in a room with other men does not automatically create belonging. Our histories of being seen, excluded, welcomed, or misunderstood come with us. Connection has to make room for the actual people present.
“Mike has a real gift for creating a space where men can let down their guard, show up more fully, and experience connection without the usual posturing, comparison, or pressure to be anything other than themselves.”
Feeling safer can be subtle. Perhaps you notice that you can listen without rehearsing what to say next. Perhaps you recognize that you want a little more space, and feel able to ask for it. These are possibilities to explore, not signs you have to produce.
Rest and recovery matter, but healing is not an on-and-off switch controlled by a perfectly calm nervous system. You do not have to eliminate stress before change becomes possible. The question I find more useful is whether there is enough support, in this moment, to meet a little more of your experience without becoming overwhelmed.
And sometimes the support you need is a change outside your body: a boundary, practical help, a safer environment, or professional care. Learning to notice yourself should make it easier to recognize those needs. It should never become a reason to endure conditions that are hurting you.
What I noticed when men began to soften
Over the days at SHIFT, without their devices and the usual distractions, I watched men begin to soften. Their breathing deepened. There was more relaxation, and alongside it came play, creativity, and connection. By day six, I was struck by how connected they seemed to themselves and to one another.
I cannot know every participant’s internal experience. What I can name is what I observed, and how affirming it felt to witness. There seemed to be more room for the men to be present with each other, and more room for something beyond the effort of getting through the day.
Through a somatic lens, I understand that softening as a possible opening toward greater capacity. A problem may still be there, but it may no longer occupy the whole field of attention. You might notice another perspective, recognize a need, or remember that support is available.
This is part of why community matters to me. The CDC’s overview of social connection describes how stable, supportive relationships can help people cope with stressful challenges. The quality of connection matters, including whether we experience care and belonging within it.
A retreat is one setting where those experiences can develop. Ordinary relationships can offer them too. What interests me is the repeated experience of being with people in a way that leaves us more able to feel ourselves, rather than more compelled to disappear or perform.
I also want to leave room for different responses. Someone may feel quiet rather than playful, or notice tiredness before anything else. Visible softness is not a scorecard. The value of the work cannot depend on everyone looking relaxed by a particular day.
Small ways to explore safety in everyday life
You do not need to reproduce a retreat at home to begin noticing what supports you. You can start with a small moment in an ordinary day. The intention is to learn something about your experience, with enough room to stop or change direction.
You might let your eyes move around the space you are in. Notice an object, a color, or the light coming through a window. If it feels comfortable, notice where the chair or floor supports you. There is no need to make the experience profound or to insist that it change your mood.
Then notice whether anything feels a little easier, unchanged, or less comfortable. All of that is information. You may prefer standing, moving, looking outside, or talking with someone instead of directing attention inward. Your response gets to inform what happens next.
Breathing practices help some people, but a deep breath does not need to become another assignment. NCCIH’s guidance on relaxation techniques explains that these practices can encourage a relaxation response, while also noting that some people experience increased anxiety or discomfort. You can leave your breathing alone and choose another point of attention.
It may also help to notice who you feel more like yourself around. Think about the relationships where you have some room to be honest, quiet, uncertain, or tired. A small amount of contact with someone trustworthy may be a more useful starting point than trying to settle entirely on your own.
If these explorations bring up more than you can comfortably manage, support matters. A qualified mental health professional or healthcare provider can help you understand what is happening. Somatic practice and community can be part of your care without having to carry all of it.
Making more room for men to feel
Sitting in Cabo, tired and grateful, I felt inspired by what I had witnessed. The week had deepened my commitment to creating spaces where men can discover more of their emotional range and experience connection without having to arrive already comfortable with it.
I believe supporting men’s mental health belongs in the larger conversation about safer relationships and communities. That includes helping men recognize distress, seek support, respect boundaries, and take responsibility for their behavior. Care and accountability need to be able to exist together.
A retreat cannot promise to prevent violence or resolve every struggle a participant brings home. The hope I carry is more grounded: that experiences of connection and choice can become something men remember and practice in the lives they return to.
In that September recording, I shared my intention to bring SHIFT back in September 2027. I was also exploring another retreat in March 2028, with those plans still taking shape. My enthusiasm came from watching what could emerge when men had time, fewer distractions, and a community in which to begin settling.
The birds, the small waves, and that dragon-shaped landscape held the backdrop to my reflection. I was still tired. I could feel the gratitude alongside it, without needing one feeling to replace the other.
If you are curious about exploring this work in community, you can learn about SHIFT Men’s Retreat. There is room to begin with curiosity and take your time discovering what support could look like for you.
