Zabie Yamasaki: What the Nervous System Often Needs Is LESS

Zabie Yamasaki: One of the reasons burnout is so sneaky is because we’re constantly borrowing from tomorrow to get through today. We’re just, yeah, I can do it, I can do it, I can do it. And then suddenly, the body says, no, no more.

Tami Simon: Welcome, friends. In this episode of Insights at the Edge, my guest is Zabie Yamasaki. I have the opportunity to call her Zabi, and you can call her Zabi too. Zabi is the founder of Transcending Trauma through Yoga, which is an organization that offers trauma-informed yoga to survivors, consultations and workshops for universities and trauma agencies, and trainings for healing professionals. Her yoga as healing curriculum is now being implemented at over 50 college campuses, including Stanford, Yale, through the University of California campuses, and at Johns Hopkins University—just to name some of the universities where her curriculum is now offered. She’s the author of several books on trauma-informed yoga, and Zabi has a new book with Sounds True. It’s called Protect Your Energy: A Gentle Guide to Nurture Your Nervous System, Cultivate Rest, and Honor Your Needs. This book, dare I say it, is a co-regulation partner that you can use. That’s what it’s designed for. It’s a co-regulation guidebook that we need right now in our times. Zabi, welcome.

Zabie Yamasaki: Oh, thank you so much, Tami, for that beautiful, warm welcome. It is such an honor to be with you and share space with you today.

Tami Simon: You poured so much love into the book, so much care. I’d love to know a little bit about what you were accessing inside yourself as you were writing—what you were making available for others. How would you describe that process?

Zabie Yamasaki: This is such a beautiful question. I love reflecting on the writing process now that I can step away from it a bit. During the manuscript process, I had this moment—and I must have had a really distressed look on my face as I was plugging away at my laptop—because my son came over. He’s eight. He closes my laptop, puts his little hands on my face, and says, “It’s okay, Mama. It doesn’t have to be perfect.” It was such a reminder to me as I was writing the book that I was also trying to practice what I was preaching.

I feel like there are so many amazing books out there that approach healing, nervous system physiology, and trauma from a very cognitive lens. But I wanted this book to feel like a co-regulation experience—that you could open the book and feel that sense of healing as you’re reading it. It’s deeply personal for me because in my own journey of trauma healing, I couldn’t quite find a resource like this. I felt like I had enough information. Sometimes we have too much information, instead of trusting our embodied wisdom and actually integrating what we already know. So as I was writing this book, I really wanted it to be a soft place to land—a place where people could feel that sense of relief. I tried to tap into that within my own physiology and trust that the messages were going to come out and land in exactly the way they were designed to.

Tami Simon: As a way for our listeners to get to know you more, talk a little bit about your own journey to discovering nervous system regulation. I read toward the beginning of the book that at the height of the pandemic, while working full-time, you ended up in the emergency room after a series of rolling panic attacks. I thought, okay, Zabi knows this from the inside out. How did you recover from being in such a dysregulated state to be able to sit down and write a book like this?

Zabie Yamasaki: It has been such a journey. As I reflect on my own experience of living in survival mode for so long, there were so many years where I had a difficult time deciphering the difference between safety and danger. When you live in that prolonged state of hypervigilance, it can really cloud your relationship with rest. For me, rest never actually felt restorative. It felt more like collapse—something I would do at the end of the day instead of integrating it into my days in a way that was intentional and actually restorative.

I learned through those years of disconnection from myself that my perfectionist tendencies to overwork and numb myself from difficult feelings—to prepare meticulously for every single work project so I would do it perfectly and not mess up, or to view everything in my life through the lens of urgency—these were all trauma responses that deserved so much healing and care. I write about this in the book: we are all worthy of honoring all of the ways that our body has supported our survival, without shame or stigma. Sometimes we dissociate as a way to protect ourselves because what our nervous system is currently managing is too much. We might be overtaxed, and our body is doing the best it can with the resources it has available.

I remember a dear friend of mine texting me one day. She wrote, “Z, you don’t have to just survive anymore. You can breathe and choose to live.” Sometimes words have a way of rearranging your insides—landing on your physiology in exactly the way you need in that single moment. The recovery wasn’t quick. It was this small, digestible process of just continuing to show up for myself, recognizing that I couldn’t continue the way I was. My husband had a recent cancer diagnosis. We were in the thick of the pandemic. I was writing my first book and also working at UCLA and trying to run my business. There had to be a more soul-nourishing way to exist in the world. And so began the journey of Protect Your Energy.

Tami Simon: I think during the pandemic, and then post-pandemic, many people discovered that their nervous systems were somehow stuck in some pattern of dysregulation—whether they were hypervigilant in the way you described, or whether they felt shut down. Now, post-pandemic, finding a new sense of balance for many people still seems out of reach. With everything that’s happening in the world, the level and speed of change we’re experiencing, there’s this sense that the inner metronome of the nervous system is stuck—either in dorsal shutdown or in hypervigilant freak-out. How do you move out of that place? Speak directly to the person who says, “I hear what you’re saying. I do things every day, but I still keep going back to this stuck place.”

Zabie Yamasaki: Honestly, Tami, I feel like so much of healing the nervous system is unpacking our relationship to urgency. I was giving a workshop to a group of educators recently, and one of the teachers raised her hand. I could see the tears starting to well up in her eyes. She said, “Zabi, I feel like I’m doing all the things. I’m meditating, I’m exercising, I’m eating healthy, I’m in therapy, I’m taking my kids on adventures on the weekends. I am, I am, I am.” And I had to pause with her for a moment, and with so much love and compassion, remind her that sometimes what the nervous system needs is less. We have this tendency as humans to replicate the frenetic pace and chaos of our lives in our self-care. Now the way we take care of ourselves is starting to become another overwhelming thing on our list.

So I would say to that person: recognize the difference between managing your energy versus managing your time. Because we might have time on our schedule to add in the extra activity, go to the market, do a thing for a friend—but do we have capacity? We’ve been so programmed to consistently override the cues of our nervous system that we’re even ignoring our basic needs: going to the bathroom when we need to, eating when we’re hungry, drinking water when we’re thirsty. Getting back to the basics, and recognizing the toll it takes to always hold the default nervous system in the room.

Tami Simon: That’s something you could explain more for people—this notion of holding the default nervous system in the room. I was thinking about how parents do this for their kids. Educators do it, yoga teachers, healing professionals, leaders of all kinds. You’re saying to become aware of that, and notice what it asks of you.

Zabie Yamasaki: Absolutely, Tami. For those of you for whom this is a new term: “always holding the default nervous system in the room.” I don’t think we talk nearly enough about the incredible strength—and toll—that takes. What I mean is the pressure to always be resourced, regulated, and resilient in order to show up and hold space for others. Oftentimes, we are the emotional regulator in the room, so others are borrowing from our nervous system to support their own. Maya Angelou’s words continue to be an anchor for me: Your energy introduces you before you even speak.

Tami Simon: I was introduced to you through the energy of your book, which spoke volumes to me about your love—your care for people. This notion of becoming aware of our urgency—one of the things you write about in Protect Your Energy is a phrase like, “I’m just gonna go take a quick shower,” “I’m gonna get a quick bite to eat.” I started realizing how I talk to myself that way all the time, and also say it out loud to my wife. “I’m just gonna go—” Why am I taking a quick shower? Why don’t I take a luxuriously long, beautiful, restful, peaceful shower? You were raised by immigrants, and I wonder how much for those of us who come from lines of immigrants, there’s this notion that you’ve got to get it together for your survival. That urgency is programmed into us.

Zabie Yamasaki: One thousand percent. As a daughter of immigrants, I never saw my parents rest. I never saw them accept help. Everything was about, “We have to work so hard, we have to be the best. This is how we prove that we are worthy and enough.” Our worth is tied to our productivity in so many ways.

It’s actually really healing to watch that shift. My father is in his eighties now—my mom grew up in India, and they came here after he finished pharmacy school and opened a pharmacy in California. I try to be really intentional about taking a few months of sabbatical every year, and he just looks at me like, “What do you do on a sabbatical?” It’s such a foreign concept to him, because that was just not part of the program. But I think it leads to really generational healing conversations. He can see me resting and know that I can still thrive as a mother and as a healing professional—that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. There’s so much to say about being a daughter of immigrants and how it has shaped my work ethic and how I’m carving a new path for myself.

Tami Simon: I’m going to ask you a very direct question. Do you feel that you have truly broken that pattern—the drive of being the always-urgent, all-accomplishing person? Because you have accomplished a whole lot. You’re taking sabbaticals. Is that something now in your past, or are you actively working through it?

Zabie Yamasaki: I am constantly a work in progress. I wouldn’t say there is ever a finish line. I actually talk about this in the book—this concept of celebrating our middles. In our healing journey, we oftentimes wait until we’ve reached the arbitrary finish line, or things are tied up in a pretty bow, or there’s some big announcement at the end. But every day of living and healing is something to celebrate. Too often we save celebration for moments of completion, but oftentimes we need the most support when we’re in the thick of our rebuilding process.

Last year, I was in the throes of a really challenging fertility journey. I’ve had to fight really hard to build my family. I had a third-trimester loss before I had my son Hudson, who’s now eight, and then my daughter Leilani, who was born last year, came after a long IVF journey. I find some solace in remembering the temporary nature of every challenging season. When I was in that season, I knew my capacity was going to look different—it wasn’t going to be shiny, thriving, overachieving—while I was going through heartbreak and constant appointments and injections and unknowns.

When I come back to these tools, I remember a quote by Najwa Zebian that I share in the book: One of the most beautiful things about who you are right now is all of the versions of you that kept going so you could get here. When we remember that, there are many different versions of us present with us in the room. I bring that analogy into yoga classes—you see the tears welling up, the collective exhale of just recognizing the immensity of all that we hold as humans. And it’s beautiful to know that we can hold grief and joy at the same time.

Tami Simon: You mentioned teaching yoga, and I introduced you as specializing in trauma-informed yoga. I can imagine someone thinking, “How is that different from the yoga I’ve done or am currently doing?” What makes a certain type of yoga trauma-informed?

Zabie Yamasaki: Trauma-informed yoga is essentially an evidence-based healing modality—an empowering yoga practice that prioritizes the lived experience and healing of each and every person. Safety, trust, choice, and agency are some of the core components that guide the practice. One of the first things I might say in a trauma-informed yoga class is, “If you wanted to find one shape and stay there for the entire practice, that would be amazing and supported. This is your body, your practice, and always your choice.”

It’s actually funny—one of the first places I started teaching trauma-informed yoga was at a CrossFit gym. At first, when I walked into that space with all of these really dedicated athletes, I could tell they were wondering, “Who is this yogi, and why is she having us be in our feelings and giving us choices?” But week after week, you really started to see those emotional layers come down—the armor come down. I witnessed people who typically push themselves to the very edge give themselves permission to rest and feel. It was a reminder to me that the practice of tenderness is needed everywhere. At the end, the manager of that CrossFit gym said, “Zabi, now no one wants to come to their workouts and everyone wants to come to your yoga class.”

When we’re teaching from a trauma-informed lens, we recognize that trauma survivors are in the space. So we’re mindful of offering breathwork from a trauma-sensitive lens, really attending to the safety of the physical space, and being prepared to support students who might be triggered. There’s just so much love and intention that goes into that kind of space-holding.

Tami Simon: The final section of Protect Your Energy is a nervous system self-care toolkit, and you include micro practices and a whole section on “shapes of rest.” I’d never heard that phrase before. I thought it was beautiful—the way you introduce different shapes, different ways we can hold our bodies and breathe and be with ourselves. Maybe give an example of one of your favorite shapes of rest so people can get a sense of what we’re talking about.

Zabie Yamasaki: I love this question. There are so many, but I would say Supported Bridge tends to be a favorite for me, as well as Legs Up the Wall.

With Supported Bridge, this is simply the act of sliding a block underneath your sacrum or lower back and inviting your body to melt into the block. There’s something symbolic about this gesture for me—a reminder that we are worthy of the same compassion we so freely give to others. One message I really try to infuse throughout that section is: you don’t need to wait. You are worthy of resting before you are exhausted.

Sometimes safety can feel like exhaustion, because our bodies finally have permission to rest. Being so gentle and compassionate with yourself, giving yourself five minutes in the middle of the day to drop into a Supported Bridge or bring your legs onto your couch or up the wall—this can help break that cycle of urgency. And sometimes when we give ourselves the gift of spaciousness and rest, that’s when some of our best ideas and clarity and wisdom come to the surface. Do you ever notice how some of your best ideas arrive when you’re on a long, leisurely walk, or deeply present in conversation with a loved one, or taking a long bath? We’re so programmed for constant motion that it’s actually in these moments of stillness where healing and growth are especially happening.

Tami Simon: To connect a couple of dots here about the nervous system: when we’re born into a situation where there isn’t a reliable default nervous system to lean into—maybe because of early trauma, or parents who were just too overwhelmed—these shapes of rest actually provide that holding. I wonder if you can speak to that from your own experience.

Zabie Yamasaki: Yes, that’s such a beautiful way to reconceptualize it, Tami—the self-holding. In fact, one of the other shapes in the book is an actual practice of self-holding. When I’m incredibly overwhelmed, one of the first things I start to do is just put my hands on my face. At first it’s kind of a gesture of distress—oh my goodness, I have so much to do—and then I naturally start doing the gentle self-massage: to the temples, the back of the head, the shoulders, just becoming aware of how much tension I’m carrying in that moment. Can I hold myself in a way that offers a little relief?

I think one of the most powerful practices we can develop is taking these moments to do an embodied check-in with ourselves, to offer ourselves grace and self-compassion. They really have the potential to create palpable shifts as we move through our days.

Tami Simon: Zabi, you have worked over the past decade and more with abuse survivors. I’m wondering if you can address the trauma survivors who are listening right now—whatever the cause of the trauma—those people who think, “This all sounds really good, and Zabi seems loving and present, but I still feel like there’s something in me that is not going to shift. It’s too wired. It’s too wired into dysregulation.”

Zabie Yamasaki: I would say that healing is not a linear journey. I’m here talking about this book, and I know I’ve built this career that I feel so proud of—but there were so many seasons where I was not recognizable even to myself. That was because of multiple experiences of trauma: being a survivor of sexual trauma, experiencing the loss of my child at 26 weeks, supporting my husband through his cancer journey. It has not been an easy life by any means. But the one thing I have stayed tethered to is my softness and my sensitivity. I used to view those as signs of weakness. Now I see them as my greatest strength.

When we as survivors can continue to be loving and soft with ourselves in a world that gives us a million reasons to harden—I actually think that’s one of the most powerful tools in our healing journey. There’s a quote from Dr. Thema I want to share, and it’s also in the book: You did all of that with weight on your wings. I can’t wait to see you flying free. I share that with the reminder to find a little compassion and solace in the notion that every challenging season we’re in is temporary. Hold on during the storms. Trust your softness. Trust your sensitivity. Know that you are never alone in your healing journey.

Tami Simon: There were a couple of moments when I sat up straight and wrote “note to self” while reading. Here was one of them: you write that boundary work is nervous system work. Tell me how you came to that discovery and what it means to you.

Zabie Yamasaki: I love this conversation because I think we’ve been taught to think about boundaries from a very cognitive lens: “I should have just said no to that,” or “Why did I take on more?” But we cannot cut ourselves off from the very real and visceral ways our body is constantly communicating with us. Whether it’s that swirling feeling in your stomach when somebody texts you who doesn’t honor your time, or that flushed feeling in your face when you know more boundaries are needed in a certain situation—our body is always signaling.

So I try to approach boundary setting from an embodied lens, integrating mind, body, and spirit into the way we assert and communicate our needs. I practice what I call self-consent before I take on more. That sounds fancy, but sometimes an embodied check-in is as simple as resting a palm on my heart and a palm on my belly, and trying to gain clarity around my capacity. What am I navigating in this season of life? If I take on this project, what other areas of my life are being neglected? What do I feel in my body—a sense of warmth and excitement, or depletion and overexertion? Does the compensation accurately reflect the work I’m going to pour into it? Making it a regular practice to check in with ourselves before we just automatically say yes—infusing a little more intention and care into that process.

Tami Simon: I love this notion of somatic boundaries and the embodied check-in. When there’s a clear yes and a clear no, it’s easy—we know our body when it says no. And we know the “oh my God, yes.” But what about that whole middle area where it’s kind of yes, kind of no—I’m not getting paid enough, but I really like the people, and I kind of want to do it, but it means I won’t be there for my partner’s event, and maybe I need to talk to… It gets complicated in that middle zone. How do you sort that?

Zabie Yamasaki: That’s literally me every week. One thing that has been helping me with the gray area is asking: does this need to happen now, or can it wait until I have more capacity? Obviously, some things are date-bound—either I’m going or I’m not. But when there are things we’re genuinely excited about and it’s not a clear no, can we space things out so we have a little more capacity in a month or so?

Another theme running through the book is margins, buffers, and space between things. We’re so programmed to say things like “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” “I’m just gonna go to the market real quick,” “I’m gonna squeeze in this workout real quick.” We rush even when we don’t have to rush. My practice lately has actually been to do the opposite. I told my husband the other day, “I’m gonna go to Trader Joe’s real slow.” He was laughing so hard. I said, “I’m going to get my favorite items. Don’t expect me back anytime soon.” I know we don’t always have the luxury to go slow—but when we can, getting into the practice of slowing down, taking a beat, can make a real difference.

Tami Simon: I appreciate that when it comes to navigating boundary work. Some of the challenge, and you have a one-year-old and an eight-year-old and a husband and a business and a very busy life, so you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about, is that other people’s needs don’t necessarily match our nervous system boundaries. In my relationship, my partner can be so far ahead of me—already in our future life, practically making decisions—and I’m like, hello, I need to go a lot slower here. When it comes to navigating that with other people who are on different timelines, what do you have to share?

Zabie Yamasaki: I love this question because in any partnership it’s never going to be fifty-fifty. Our capacity looks different each week. There’s a capacity practice I share in the book where we take the time to check in with our partner: “Where are you at this week? Are you at 25%? 10%? I’m at more of 50 or 70—I have more capacity to give. So let’s talk about what that means for us this week.”

A theme that keeps coming up in our conversation is intention and care. When we can be thoughtful and intentional in our planning, it allows us to build a practice of kindness toward each other. I know we’re human—we’re not going to be able to do that every week. But I have found with my husband, when we talk about where we are instead of letting resentment build, it’s a game changer. You know those mornings where you’re burnt out, not communicating your needs, and there’s a kind of silent treatment going on—you’re brushing past each other in the kitchen, trying to get the kids ready, just quietly mad? The difference between that and saying, “Hey, here’s where I am this week—I have this keynote, this big training, Hudson has baseball, we need to get Leilani here, I’m feeling really overwhelmed. What does that mean for our meals this week? Where can we lean on some support, ask for help, or what can we cancel?”—just considering ourselves and each other in the process.

Tami Simon: Can you give me an example of drawing a boundary you knew was important for you, but that was going to disappoint other people—how you went through the process and how you communicated it?

Zabie Yamasaki: During that season when my husband was diagnosed—I still remember the moment Garrett called me and told me he had an undiagnosed tumor in his neck and that it was cancer. He would need surgery and post-surgical treatments, as well as radiation. I was actually on the way to a yoga class when he called. We got off the phone and I just started sobbing, and I still kept driving to the yoga studio. I was late—and as you know, Tami, sometimes with late arrivals you never know what’s going to happen. I’m knocking on the door and the teacher graciously scoops me up and takes me in. I ended up laying in a fetal position and crying for the entire hour. She brought a tissue box next to my mat. It was exactly the space-holding I needed in that moment.

I was also in an incredibly busy season with my business and speaking engagements. A really prestigious university reached out, offering a lot of money for me to come speak and do a trauma-informed yoga certification for all of their clinical staff. Honestly, every part of me wanted to do it—I was so excited about what it meant for my business and for our family financially. But I had to tell them I just couldn’t. This season was not going to allow for it. They were incredibly disappointed. I was incredibly disappointed. But my family needed me. Garrett was going to have surgery soon, my son was very young, and my presence was what mattered most in that season. It was hard—I’m not going to pretend otherwise—but it was the best decision for our family and for where we were in that moment.

Tami Simon: That’s a gorgeous story and example. Thank you. For people listening who say, “I would’ve said yes, I’ll figure it out”—those of us who push through: what do you think is going on? We’re saying, push, push, push. I can squeeze it in. I can do it. Oh my God, look what happened.

Zabie Yamasaki: That’s when we end up in the emergency room with the rolling panic attacks. One of the reasons burnout is so sneaky is because we’re constantly borrowing from tomorrow to get through today. We’re operating from a chronic rest deficit—just, “Yeah, I can do it, I can do it, I can do it.” And then suddenly the body says, no, no more. It starts showing up physiologically, through stomach pains, through migraines. Our body is often the first to let us know.

One of my biggest practices in my healing journey has been to approach things from a preventative lens. What does preventative self-care look like in certain seasons? We’re all pretty good at resting once our body tells us “no more”—but where we often struggle is building in that buffer and margin before we enter a busy season. We sometimes think one vacation or one mental health day is enough, but we’re also worthy of forgiving ourselves for all the times we’ve tried to heal our burnout with quick fixes instead of sustainable values and boundaries.

Tami Simon: One of the quotes I pulled from Protect Your Energy is where you write: we can restore our nervous system through empowered, embodied boundaries. Then you share that it took years of gastrointestinal issues for you to finally realize that your lack of boundaries not only increased your anxiety, it also significantly impacted your physical health. I don’t think people are necessarily making that connection. We hear so much about increased anxiety right now, but what is the connection between a lack of boundaries and high anxiety?

Zabie Yamasaki: This has basically been my whole life. People are not always making the physiological connection. When the “pushers” keep going and keep going, and they start getting chronic stomach aches, or they’re always feeling ill—it’s the same way that when we’re working in a toxic job, we’re suddenly sick every single day, constantly coming down with a cold. This is literally our immune system signaling that we need to look at this more carefully.

Yogic philosophy has a lot to teach us here. In yogic philosophy, stress and trauma actually cause something called samskaras—essentially, emotional imprints that live in the body. They often get deeply rooted or lodged in various areas depending on the nature of what we’ve experienced. When they stay there undigested, they can impact our nervous system, our endocrine system, and our overall physiology. They can cause things like chronic pain and other types of illness. So yes—listen to your body. It really is such a powerful teacher, and recognizing its signals is the first step toward making other empowered choices in our lives.

Working with a survivor of domestic violence in my trauma-informed yoga classes, she made this intentional choice to come out of Camel Pose because she was uncomfortable. While that might seem like a simple choice, for her it really started to become an internal voice of: I have choices, I have agency, I can move my body in ways that are comfortable. Those embodied reminders she was getting on her mat started to ripple out into her life. Ultimately, she ended up leaving that abusive relationship. I don’t think it was because of that one moment in Camel Pose, but it was certainly a catalyst for her to start recognizing that she is an anchor in her own life, that she’s worthy of celebrating the choices she has with her body. Our language and the way we speak to ourselves—with tenderness, warmth, and care, especially with repetition over time—can really create amazing shifts in our lives.

Tami Simon: There’s one more teaching I pulled from the book that landed as a real insight. You were writing about taking a self-care assessment, and one of the questions was, “How often do you allow yourself to not be the one leading or in charge of something?” This was an important moment for you. It made me think about my own process—when my body clearly told me I didn’t have the energy to reinvent my media company, and it needed reinvention, it was time to pass the CEO baton. My body stated it clearly. And yet there was a whole other voice inside saying, “No, you’re the leader. You’re in charge. That’s who you are. That’s how you play the game. What do you mean you’re not going to be the leader?” The key part, as you point out, is “at all costs.” How did you sort this out?

Zabie Yamasaki: Tami, that is so important for so many to hear—those who are always the one in charge, always the first to volunteer. Part of my practice recently, and something that continues to be a tender and healing spot for me, is getting more comfortable with letting some balls drop. I never let the balls drop, and I’m certain you don’t either. When you are so used to the grip of doing it all—perfectionism, being the default nervous system, the emotional regulator, the one people can always count on—we just can’t continue that way at all times and at all costs.

So as challenging as it is, there are times I’ll be at my son’s school and they need somebody to run a fundraiser, and I feel that inclination to raise my hand—and I just think, “Keep your hand down. Keep your hand down.” Getting more comfortable with letting other people step up, letting other people take the lead. There’s so much wrapped into that, right? Ego, the desire for control. For me personally there are so many layers, and I’m constantly practicing just loosening the grip.

Tami Simon: Your new book is called Protect Your Energy, and throughout this conversation you’ve talked about the importance of having our energy intact and available—having that sense of inner resource. It seems like at this particular time, it’s especially important to have that energy available, and yet there are so many ways our energy is compromised and taken from us by world events. Tell me what you think protecting our energy means specifically right now, and we’ll close on this note.

Zabie Yamasaki: What I would say is that oppressive systems want us burnt out, because that gives them more control. So any time you think you shouldn’t experience joy, or that you don’t deserve to care for yourself because of all the trauma and heartbreak in the world—I want you to remember that we actually need you resourced, regulated, and resilient in order to continue showing up daily to fight this fight in the world. Tending to our own nervous system with so much care—and modeling that for all those we hold space for—doesn’t mean we’re spiritually bypassing or not feeling the heartbreak in the world. In fact, it actually makes us more tender. Our hearts more open to what’s happening, so we can continue to show up and be engaged.

Tami Simon: Zabie Yamasaki, author of the new book Protect Your Energy: A Gentle Guide to Nurture Your Nervous System, Cultivate Rest, and Honor Your Needs. As I was reading the book, I took a break at the end of each chapter and had my legs up the wall. I went out into the backyard and sat outside. And then I decided, you know, I’m kind of tired—I think I’ll go to bed early and finish reading the book in the morning. And if I don’t finish it, Zabi and I are gonna be great—because that’s what she’s taught. The book was, and is, a co-regulation tool. It was for me, and it is for anybody who picks it up. The love that you give in a yoga class, in creating your curriculum—it’s on every page. Thank you, Zabi. Thank you so much.

Zabie Yamasaki: Thank you so much, Tami. This has been the greatest honor. I loved every minute with you, and I’m truly in awe of you and all that you have built and created. I’m so grateful and so inspired.

Tami Simon: Let’s protect our energy, friends. Thank you, Zabie Yamasaki. Thanks, friends.