Last month, we explored the transformative power of gratitude - how noticing and naming what’s good in our lives, however small, can soothe the nervous system and shift our perspective. This month, I’d like to go one step further, and invite you to start noticing what many of us miss entirely: glimmers.
These small, fleeting moments might not seem like much. A smile from a stranger. A shared joke with someone in a queue. The smell of jasmine on the breeze. But to your nervous system, these glimmers are like soft beams of light cutting through fog. They tell your body, You’re safe now. You can exhale. There’s goodness here, too.
In a world that often primes us to brace against the worst, learning to attune to these tiny signals of safety and joy can change how we move through life.
The term glimmer comes from the work of Deb Dana, a clinician and expert in Polyvagal Theory. While many of us are familiar with being triggered - those moments where our nervous system is activated by perceived danger, conflict, or threat—glimmers are the opposite. They’re the micro-moments that cue your body towards regulation, presence, and calm.
Think of glimmers as emotional sparks—brief flashes of warmth, aliveness, or connectedness. They're not dramatic or grand. In fact, their subtlety is what makes them so easy to miss. But once you begin to look for them, you may be surprised by how often they appear.
A glimmer might be:
These are not necessarily “big moments” of joy. They’re usually gentle, fleeting, and easily overlooked. But for a nervous system that has been in a state of hypervigilance or shutdown, they matter deeply. Glimmers are a doorway back into connection - with the world, with others, and with ourselves.
We’re wired to look for danger. Our brains are built with a negativity bias, meaning we’re more likely to notice what’s wrong than what’s right. This bias served our ancestors well when survival depended on spotting threats quickly. But in everyday life, especially for those with a history of trauma, this protective mechanism can keep us stuck in a constant state of scanning for danger,even when none is present.
Over time, this can exhaust us.
This is where glimmers come in. They provide the nervous system with gentle reminders that safety and connection still exist. They’re small cues that say, “Not everything is threatening. There’s beauty here, too.”
Regularly noticing glimmers can:
For clients I work with, especially those healing from trauma, the practice of noticing glimmers can feel surprisingly powerful. Many describe it as “like someone opening a window in a stuffy room”- a sudden breath of air, a new way of seeing.
Polyvagal Theory, developed by Dr. Stephen Porges, helps us understand how our nervous system responds to cues of safety and threat. It describes three primary states:
Glimmers cue the ventral vagal system - our “safe and social” state. This is the state in which we feel most like ourselves. We’re connected, creative, curious, and compassionate. Our breathing is slower. Our heart rate steadies. We feel okay enough.
The more we engage with this state, even in tiny doses, the easier it becomes to return to it,especially after stress or emotional activation.
In other words, glimmers are not just feel-good moments. They’re regulating, which means they help your body find its way back to balance.
You don’t need to “do” anything with a glimmer. The power is in the noticing. That said, many people find it helpful to begin by creating a gentle, daily practice. Here are a few ways you might try:
Glimmers often live in the in-between moments. Rushing past them is easy, especially if your nervous system is used to being on high alert. Instead, try pausing for a few breaths during your day. Let your eyes relax. Let yourself be available to what’s happening around you.
You might notice:
The warmth of your coffee mug
The laugh of a child nearby
The light filtering through trees
What smells, sounds, textures, or sights make you feel even just a little more grounded or alive?
Tune into those sensory cues. They often hold glimmers.
Sometimes, naming a glimmer aloud helps it land more fully. You might text a friend, “I just saw the most gorgeous sunset.” Or tell a loved one, “That hug meant so much to me.” Connection amplifies the effect.
You might even keep a glimmer jar, jotting moments on slips of paper and reading them back when you need a lift.
Each evening, jot down one or two glimmers you noticed. This isn’t about forcing positivity,it’s about inviting balance.
By collecting these moments, you begin to tell your nervous system: “See? There’s safety here, too.”
Over time, the practice becomes easier. Your brain gets better at seeking out what feels good.
If you’re in a hard season, the idea of noticing glimmers might feel impossible,or even irritating. That’s okay. This practice is not about spiritual bypassing or pretending everything’s fine. It’s about allowing that alongside the hard, there may also be a moment of ease.
You don’t need to force it. Start small. Look for neutrality instead of joy. Comfort instead of delight.
For example:
Even neutral glimmers are powerful. They begin to nudge the nervous system toward safety and trust.
If noticing glimmers feels out of reach, that may be a cue that your system needs a bit of extra support before it can open to the possibility of lightness. And that’s okay. There is no rush.
For those who’ve experienced trauma, the idea of being open to joy or connection can feel risky. Many of my clients have spent years in protective states, bracing against harm. In those states, even good things can feel overwhelming.
But as healing unfolds, there often comes a moment where a client says something like:
“I don’t know what it was, but I just felt lighter this week.”
That moment? That’s a glimmer.
We build towards it gently. We don’t rush it. We create safety, together, so the body can eventually open to what it’s been protecting against: the possibility of goodness.
And when a glimmer does arrive,no matter how small, we honour it. We hold it with reverence. It matters.
In a culture obsessed with big wins and dramatic breakthroughs, glimmers remind us that transformation often begins with the smallest shifts.
Noticing that a stranger smiled at you and you smiled back.
Realising that you paused long enough to hear the birds.
Feeling a flicker of hope in the middle of an ordinary day.
These are the breadcrumbs back to yourself.
Let them be enough.
And if you feel like sharing, I’d love to know:
What’s been a glimmer for you recently?
Send me a message.