Something Will Grow Again

(gentle music) Headspace Studios. (gentle music) Hey, friends, it's Rosie here. Welcome to "Radio Headspace." So quick confession: I used to love "Bill Nye The Science Guy," like full on glued to the TV, reciting lines kind of love. If you don't know, Bill Nye was this bow-tie wearing science king of the '90s, and his whole mission was to make physics and biology feel like a party. He had this chaotic energy that made science feel like it wasn't just for lab coats and textbooks, it was for everyone, even little girls from East LA, which, to be honest, was kind of a paradox because science wasn't exactly the hot topic at the lunch table. Can you imagine walking into class like, "Did you know your brain has billions of neurons and can send signals at 250 miles per hour?" And sure, some people were like, "Girl, what are you even talking about?" But I didn't care. I was obsessed. There was something magical about the way Bill explained the human brain, that this wrinkly little three-pound organ inside our skull could hold our thoughts, our memories, our dreams. I loved it. Fast forward to adulthood and that childhood obsession turned into full-on reverence, because the more I've learned about the brain, especially through mindfulness and neuroscience, the more I realize how much power we actually hold to change it. Neuroplasticity, it means our brains can literally rewire themselves. We're not stuck with patterns we inherited, the habits we formed in chaos, or even the stories we were told about who we are, and I think that that's the most positive thing I've learned. One study showed that just eight weeks of consistent mindfulness practice, just eight weeks, led to measurable changes in brain regions associated with memory, empathy, stress regulation, and self-awareness. That means your breath, your presence, your awareness aren't just feel-good words. They are tools of transformation. They don't just calm your nervous system, they can actually reshape your brain, and for me, that realization was personal. See, I didn't grow up in a quiet environment. I grew up in East LA in the early '90s. There were helicopters in the sky at night, gang violence down the block, and a general sense that something could pop off at any moment. That kind of environment doesn't just affect you, it conditions you. My nervous system learned early on how to stay alert, how to scan for danger, how to read a room in half a second. I didn't call it trauma. I called it being prepared. But really, I was living in a constant low-grade state of fight or flight. I thought I was just high strung or anxious. I didn't know that my brain was literally wired for survival. Then years later, when I found meditation, not because it was trendy, but because I was desperate, I remember sitting on a cushion, feeling my whole body resist the stillness. It was like my brain was...