I was annoyed because it felt embarrassing. I was supposed to be “present” and instead I was a wobbly lamp. Then I thought about Jung and the idea that the psyche doesn’t always translate itself into tidy language. Sometimes it comes out sideways—through tension, dreams, or in my case, a full-body rattle. I also keep coming back to Peter Levine and somatic experiencing, the notion that stress can get stored in the body and needs a discharge pathway. I’m not a clinician, so I’m mostly pattern-matching my own awkwardness.

The funny part is that the shaking stopped when I stopped narrating it. The moment I started turning it into a “spiritual event,” it became performance. The moment I let it be just a nervous system hiccup, it passed. That feels a lot like The Tower in tarot: the structure cracks, you think you’re being destroyed, but what’s actually falling is the fake scaffolding you built to look okay. Or maybe it’s Death, which is not always a corpse. Sometimes it’s just the end of a posture, a belief, a way of holding your breath.

I don’t think every tremor is a cosmic message. Some are stress. Some are caffeine. Some are muscles doing maintenance. But I do think the body can be a messenger when the mind has run out of good excuses. If you’re in the “is this spiritual release or just a weird shiver?” camp, I’d say: don’t make it a religion. Notice it, breathe, let it move, and check in afterward. If it’s chronic, intense, or scary, talk to a professional who actually knows what they’re doing.

My advice is boring: don’t worship the shake. Let it be a shake.

(There's a deeper dive on this in our wiki: Breathwork: From Ancient Pranayama to Modern Wim Hof | Mystic Wiki.)