Cultivating Calm: How Our Energy Ripples Outward

I was working register during the busy dinner hour. The lines at Burger King were five across and five deep, filled with families and small, hungry children. It was my first job, and I was 16 years old.

In front of me stood an angry, belligerent, and possibly drunk human being. I don’t remember what they were so upset about; it was, after all, over 35 years ago. And while I can’t remember their specific words, I can still remember how their yelling and hostility made me feel: small, embarrassed, and anxious.

Everyone in the restaurant seemed to be looking at me. I peered over my shoulder, willing a supervisor to appear, while this customer continued to yell at me at the top of their lungs.

Finally, a manager came to the rescue and led the hostile customer away, out of view and earshot from the customers and employees in the Burger King lobby.

But even though the hostile customer was removed, I was still rattled. Fighting tears, my breath fast and shallow, my eyes darting around the noisy, bustling dining room, observing all the hungry guests waiting to place their orders.

The Kindness of a Stranger

Suddenly, I heard one calm, soothing voice above the noise of the crowd. My ears perked up as I tried to tune in, looking around frantically, trying to find the source.

The calm, soothing voice was coming from a woman standing before me, my next customer in line. She’d had a front-row seat to the previous customer’s outrage and hostility.

She was smiling, speaking softly, yet loud enough for me to hear.

“You’re ok. Breathe. Relax. Take a deep breath in, now release it. Again. Come back to the present moment. You’re here. I’m here. You’re ok. We’ve got this. Forget everyone else for a moment, focus on my voice. You’re safe. Relax. Lower your shoulders. Clear your throat. Breathe.”

In less than 30 seconds, this stranger calmed the anxious teen I was, soothed my soul, helped me release my anxiety over being yelled at, and helped me settle into the present moment.

I relaxed.

I lowered my shoulders.

I took a deep breath.

I smiled back at her and said, “Welcome to Burger King. May I take your order?”

That moment, now more than 35 years in my past, taught me something profound about the power of presence. In the span of minutes, I experienced two very different kinds of energy. The first customer’s anger and hostility rippled through that busy restaurant, leaving me shaken and small. The second customer’s calm and kindness rippled just as powerfully, bringing me back to center, back to myself.

It was the first time I truly understood: my panic and anxiety impact everyone around me. So does my peace and calmness.

We are not isolated islands. Our internal weather patterns—our storms and our stillness—create ripples that touch everyone in our orbit. The energy we carry becomes the energy we offer.

Seasons of Becoming

I don’t typically pick a word of the year, but certain words have marked entire seasons of my life. Each one representing something I craved, fought for, or finally embodied.

In my teens, I craved independence. I sought it, made courageous moves, traveled 3,000 miles away from home. I found my way. And I woke up one day and realized I was pretty dang independent.

In my early to mid-thirties, freedom. I felt stifled, oppressed. I had put myself in a box and I fought to get out. Freedom came right around Independence Day. Oh, the bliss of that first breath of freedom and renewed independence.

In my late thirties, strength. I worked hard in the gym and, over time, came to recognize not only my physical strength but also my mental and emotional fortitude.

In my forties, all I wanted was calm. I wanted peace in my heart, mind, and body. I wanted my nervous system to stop rattling, to end the energy of always walking on eggshells. Once again, I went to work to cultivate calm and stillness in my life. And suddenly, one day, everyone around me was telling me that they loved the calming cadence of my voice. That my presence brought calm and peace to their lives.

Validation. Confirmation. Yes. Yes.

Some of these qualities are now ingrained. Others I still have to fight for, nurture, and cultivate. Calmness is one of those.

When Calm Slips Away

When life feels out of balance, I crave that calm and stillness. Solitude, even. The quiet where my mind, heart, and nervous system get to reset. When I’m out of sorts, it’s usually because anxiety and chaos have settled in. Competing priorities at work, lost time with family, self-care slipping away, not living and nurturing my passions and purpose—all these things can try to derail me and steal my calm. My peace.

When I start having thoughts of “I can’t” or “I’m exhausted,” when frustration, disappointment, and even anger settle in, it’s time for reflection. Awareness. Intention. Practice.

It’s recognizing that I don’t need to figure out how to work harder, do more, or keep striving. I need to figure out a way to calm the chaos.

Brené Brown defines calm as “creating perspective and mindfulness while managing emotional reactivity.” It’s the ability to feel all the feelings without reacting in fear or anger.

Emotional regulation involves slowing down our response. Taking a breath. Staying mindful. It requires us to remember what that kind stranger taught me all those years ago at Burger King: our energy matters. Not just to us, but to everyone around us.

The Choice We Carry

That woman didn’t have to help me. She could have placed her order quickly and moved on with her evening. She could have been just as annoyed as everyone else by the delay, by the disruption, by the drama.

Instead, she chose to offer calm in the midst of chaos. She chose to be the stillness.

And in doing so, she didn’t just help one anxious teenager. She changed the energy in that entire restaurant. The people behind her in line stopped fidgeting. The tension eased. The ripples of her calm spread outward, just as surely as the angry customer’s hostility had moments before.

We carry this same choice, every single day. In our homes, our workplaces, our communities—we are always either adding to the chaos or offering calm. We are always creating ripples.

The question isn’t whether our energy impacts others. It does. Always.

The question is: what kind of ripples are we creating?

Coming Back to Center

For me, cultivating calm is an ongoing practice. It’s not a destination I arrived at and get to stay at forever. It’s a place I have to keep returning to, especially when life gets noisy and overwhelming.

It’s finding my way back to my sanctuary, that outdoor space where my soul settles. It’s honoring the quiet mornings, even when they happen indoors. It’s noticing when my shoulders creep up toward my ears and gently lowering them. It’s taking the deep breath before responding. It’s choosing, again and again, to be the calm voice in the crowded room.

Because I remember what it felt like to be on the receiving end of someone else’s calm. I remember how it saved me in that moment.

And I remember, too, what it felt like to absorb someone else’s anger and chaos.

Both taught me the same lesson: we are powerful beyond measure. Not because of what we do, but because of what we carry and what we offer.

So I keep practicing. Keep cultivating. Keep choosing calm.

Not just for me, but for everyone my energy touches.

Because the ripples we create? They matter more than we know.

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