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Safety, Story, and Belonging: Teaching to the Ancient Brain

Wed, 17 Jun 2026 03:47:57 GMT

Safety, Story, and Belonging: Teaching to the Ancient Brain

An article co-authored with Dr. Julia VanderMolen, first appearing in The Teaching Professor

https://www.teachingprofessor.com/topics/student-learning/safety-story-and-belonging-teaching-to-the-ancient-brain/?cachebust=911342

In modern classrooms, where students have diminishing attention spans, some freeze when called upon, and others seem to unravel at the slightest sign of critical feedback, old methods of teaching are caving under the weight of a new, trending reality. Across higher education, faculty are meeting a generation of students coming of age amid increasing social disintegration and rapid societal change, who are experiencing emotional dysregulation and declining resilience, among a myriad of other unintended effects.

Despite ubiquitous access to others and an equally endless supply of information, largely thanks to smartphones, incoming college students are more anxious, depressed, isolated, and disconnected than ever (Haidt, 2024). Despite our (mostly digital) ease of access to friends, family, and communities, the US Surgeon General (2023) declared loneliness and isolation a public health epidemic, evidenced by a panoply of negative health outcomes. Of course, teachers, professors, and college administrators cannot cure societal malaise with another tweak to the syllabus, nor with the best of all citation-rich lectures. Nevertheless, they can provide a different classroom environment that speaks first to how our nervous systems evolved to learn.

Naming this shift and understanding its sources and mechanisms are the first steps educators can take to develop pedagogical methods that facilitate learning in this hyper-digital landscape. Why we have found ourselves here, and what educators can do to shift the tide, first requires a look back, way back, well beyond last semester and into our ancestral past.

An evolutionary mismatch

Our brains and connected nervous systems did not evolve in crowded lecture halls filled with stressed strangers, with the cognitive demands of sustained, silent, movement-free focus in mind. Rather, we evolved over millennia in small, familiar, multigenerational learning communities characterized by relational attunement, apprenticeship, storytelling, and play. Building on the concept of the environment of evolutionary adaptedness popularized by John Bowlby of attachment theory fame, evolutionary and moral psychologist Darcia Narvaez advocates for a return to our naturally evolved developmental environment in academic settings through what she calls the evolved developmental niche, or evolved nest (Narvaez & Bradshaw, 2023).

From a developmental perspective, the evolved nest consists of an early childhood environment characterized by responsive caregiving, social embeddedness, positive touch, and, critically, ample opportunity for free play, unencumbered by the strictures and directives of hovering adults. This was not a luxury for 99 percent of our human ancestors, but a necessary precondition for adequate social-emotional development upon which our brain and nervous system architecture were built. Unfortunately, many college students were not blessed with this ideal upbringing. In fact, our modern environments, especially those characteristic of the bustling cities and college towns many universities inhabit, may rightly be considered antithetical to the conditions for optimal learning, imagination, and exploration.

Today’s students received fewer of Narvaez’s nested caregiving conditions than ever before. In The Anxious Generation , Jonathan Haidt documents the decline in what he calls the play-based childhood , replaced instead by a phone- and technology-mediated childhood enriched by bright lights, cheap dopamine hits, and endless (and often meaningless) distractions but impoverished of normative developmental necessities like outdoor play, face-to-face engagement with friends, and unburdened social connections. Despite the relative wealth of our collective pockets and the technological advancements poised to accelerate economic and societal change in the wake of the AI revolution, the coming generations of young people are being raised in an environment of relative social poverty, with dire consequences for nervous system development and downstream learning.

The brain and nervous system: Threat, engagement, and imagination

Our brains and nervous systems, much like those of our mammalian ancestors, are organized from the bottom up, first for safety and sustenance, then for social and emotional engagement. The uniquely human layer—the prefrontal cortex and related cortical structures responsible for academic activities such as learning, reasoning, imagination, and creativity—is both the primary target in education and the area most sensitive to stress, dysregulation, and social disconnection. Barrett (2017) describes the brain as a sort of prediction machine, one that bases perceptions first on safety and security signals in the environment. Environments that induce feelings of social exposure, judgment, or undue pressure without providing a trusting relationship risk shifting a student’s brain state into safety mode, reducing our cognitive abilities to remember, reason, regulate, and imagine in ways necessary for academic success.

Alternatively, when students feel safe and socially connected, another mode becomes available: one of engagement, intellect, and imagination. When students judge their learning environment as safe, they find permission to take intellectual risks, grapple with ambiguity, demonstrate psychological flexibility, and, yes, receive constructive feedback in stride. This combination of social engagement and imagination ethics, as outlined by Narvaez, promotes what she calls wellness-informed classrooms, made possible by prosocial, sustainable environments that nurture communal engagement, support learners’ learning, and facilitate care among classmates.

What you can do

Despite the obvious mismatch between our modern environment and our evolved needs, there are changes that you can make right now to optimize your classroom for student engagement and academic thriving:

Build safety before content . First impressions, as the saying goes, leave a lasting effect, especially in students’ minds and in their unconscious perceptions of safety. How you organize your classroom and course, and how you present yourself on day one, offer your greatest opportunity to make a safe connection with your students. Consistency in your feedback, warmth in your interactions, and clear, predictable communication and standards speak to the learner’s nervous system safety. A safe brain can think; an anxious brain cannot.
Anchor abstract ideas in story and relationships . Content that is emotionally salient and relationally relevant encodes more fully into long-term memory (Barrett). This is crucial given the bland and affectively neutral learning spaces typical of college classrooms. Personal disclosure, case studies, and opportunities for students to relate course content to their own lives improve cognitive efficiency and promote classroom-wide engagement. Frame major concepts through narrative and story, activating multiple states of the nervous system and lateralizing interactions between brain hemispheres.
Treat belonging as a prerequisite . The evolved nest is, above all, communal. Human development and evolution occurred within deeply embedded familial and social relationships, and lifelong learning requires an age-appropriate analog rather than an unquestioning expert imparting knowledge to a passive recipient. Creative teaching measures, such as team-based learning, group activities, brain breaks, and icebreakers, facilitate whole-classroom learning in ways few lectures can match. Movement is crucial, and playful activities foster a sense of belonging and connectedness.

What you are already doing

Your classroom is already a developmental environment. How you nurture the students that pass through your halls is ultimately up to you. Those ancient brains, invariably stressed, often tired, and seemingly dysregulated, are sitting across from you, waiting for signals of safety, connection, and community, and an encouraging invitation to think. Enhancing the learning environment does not require psychological training or a complete overhaul of your syllabus. But the hour or two you spend with your students each week could be a refreshingly rare experience that engages, attunes, and transforms their still-developing minds in ways that facilitate the creative intellect toward communal binding and prosocial engagement. The promise of higher education has long been one of personal transformation. Our story of evolution provides a developmental roadmap toward what could be a transformative, wellness-oriented learning experience for your next cohort of incoming students.

References

Barrett, L. F. (2017). How emotions are made: The secret life of the brain. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Haidt, J. (2024). The anxious generation: How the great rewiring of childhood is causing an epidemic of mental illness. Penguin Press.

Narvaez, D. (2023). Wellness-informed classrooms with sustaining climates foster compassionate morality. In T. Lovat (Ed.), International handbook of values education and student wellbeing (2nd ed., pp. 129–146). Routledge.

Narvaez, D., & Bradshaw, G. A. (2023). The evolved nest: Nature’s way of raising children and creating connected communities. North Atlantic Books.

Office of the Surgeon General. (2023). Our epidemic of loneliness and isolation: The U.S. Surgeon General’s advisory on the healing effects of social connection and community. US Department of Health and Human Services.

Christopher G. Jones is a licensed marriage and family therapist, clinical professional counselor, and state-approved clinical supervisor. Currently, Chris is a doctoral candidate at the University of the Pacific School of Health Sciences and owns and operates Anchor & Sail Psychotherapy in Las Vegas. He is an interdisciplinary researcher working across developmental trauma, affective neuroscience, moral psychology, and clinical supervision. Reach him at c_jones36@u.pacific.edu.

Julia VanderMolen is a professor for the public health program at Grand Valley State University and a visiting assistant clinical professor with the University of the Pacific’s School of Health Sciences. Her research examines the benefits of assistive technology for individuals with disabilities in the context of public health. She is an active member of the Disability Section of the American Public Health Association (APHA). Her current research focuses on exploring the health and medical services available to individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

Happy New Year from Anchor & Sail!

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 18:36:33 GMT

Happy New Year from Anchor & Sail!

Oh #2025 , I don't deserve how good you've been to me.

For the few of you that know me personally, I'm never one to brag, EVER. My family says I'm too humble and should celebrate my wins more. So here I am, on the eve of my most accomplished year, reflecting on all the blessings and hard-won fortune I've achieved.

In February , I was named Clinical Supervisor at the newly formed Department of Clinical and Community Services at Clark County, Child Haven.

In March , I officially incorporated my private practice, Anchor & Sail Psychotherapy . I was also accepted into a doctoral program in Health Sciences, Healthcare Leadership, and Education with advanced standing.

In May , I completed postgraduate training at the University of Nevada, Reno , thanks to a scholarship from BeHERE NV in Supervision for Counseling Professionals, qualifying me as an Approved Primary Supervisor for CPCs and MFTs in the State of Nevada.

In August , I completed my thesis research into the effects of childhood adversity on adult moral foundations, receiving a second master's degree - this time in the Neuroscience of Trauma at Tabor College , and even formatted my thesis into an Amazon e-book!

That same month, I received approval from the State of Nevada Board of Examiners for CPCs and MFTs to act as a Primary Supervisor and began accepting licensed interns.

In September , in conjunction with the much-anticipated passing of the #CounselingCompact in Nevada, which will allow for ease of reciprocity across state lines for clinical professional counselors, I decided to put my dual counseling and MFT degree to good use, taking the NCMHCE, passing, and, despite some bureaucracy and oddities, receiving my CPC license in November.

In October , I met the brilliant Dr. Rachel Wood, PhD , and became a founding member of the AI Mental Health Collective , a group committed to thoughtful, ethical engagement with AI in mental health.

November was a whirlwind: I presented my research at the Neuroscience Education Institute Fall Congress in Colorado Springs.

Later, I received acceptance of my paper to ProQuest (a nerd goal of mine), and recently received a letter from the Library of Congress stating that my thesis had been added to their massive catalogue!

As a surprise bonus, Marquis Who's Who recognized me with a gorgeous plaque and biography as an Emerging Leader of 2025/2026.

Ridiculous.

Looking Forward

On this Eve of # 2026 , I reflect on where I was a decade ago: A struggling, stressed, broke graduate student. I slept too little and drank too much. Once a wild-eyed, naive kid, the world began to humble me with knowledge and responsibility.

Now, in the coming year, I move on from the achievements of 2025 and into the age of hyper-responsibility. I'll be completing a doctorate at the University of the Pacific ; I'm in the process of buying my first home, getting married, and getting into the swing of mentoring intern therapists as their careers progress. I'm even in the process of building in the clinical, educational, and technology spaces—including two emerging platforms, BodyWise and SupervisionHub.

BodyWise consumer application coming soon

SupervisionHub: A collaborative app for clinical supervisors and students/interns: coming soon

Like many in the helping professions, I still wrestle with taking on too much and questioning whether I’m doing enough. So take my uncomfortable braggadocio and carry it forward for yourself. Celebrate your wins, take responsibility for your failures, and move into the New Year with clarity and resolve.

Happy New Year.

-Chris

The Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference 2025: A Field Report from the Trenches

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 18:32:55 GMT

The Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference 2025: A Field Report from the Trenches

Anaheim, CA — The 40th Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference descended upon Anaheim this year like a gathering of therapeutic elders around a campfire, united in their conviction that (a) the world is ending, and (b) the DSM can go fuck itself. Okay, they didn't say it quite like that (except for Stephen Hayes), but the subtext was unmistakable. Here are my completely unsolicited impressions of my experience at this year's pilgrimage to Psychotherapy Mecca.

Evolution in the Rearview Mirror

Despite the moniker, the modal age of keynote speakers must have been in the 75-year-old range. Furthering this point, aging therapeutic giants, including Otto Kernberg, Donald Meichenbaum, and Helen LaKelly Hunt, all canceled their appearances at the last minute without explanation. Granted, we clinicians and academics attend such conferences in search of sage wisdom, but I couldn't help but notice the field's relative stagnation compared with the wildly shifting technology landscape swirling around us in the years since I last attended the Evo Conference in 2017.

Here's what struck me most: outside of sponsor booths and venture capital types circling like vultures, almost no one discussed AI's implications for mental health and psychotherapy. For a conference ostensibly about the evolution of our field, the silence was deafening.

Also, having to wear a BetterHelp lanyard for four days felt like being sponsored by the therapeutic equivalent of fast food, but I digress.

The Prevailing Mood: Apocalypse Now

If there were a drinking game for every speaker who alluded to civilization's imminent collapse, we'd all need detox by day two. Steven Hayes led the charge with existential gravitas, and others followed suit to varying degrees. Hayes's willingness to share his family's harrowing history cut through the doom-and-gloom with a genuine human connection, however. It was the kind of vulnerability that reminds you why we do this work in the first place.

The Great Diagnostic Manual Revolt

Across disciplines and theoretical orientations, one theme united the presenters with near-religious fervor: diagnostic categories are bullshit. From psychodynamic stalwarts to neuroscience enthusiasts, the message was clear—individual differences matter, and cookie-cutter treatment protocols are therapeutic malpractice by another name. Hayes' disdain for categorical diagnosis was unparalleled and, admittedly, movingly memorable.

Common Factors: The Therapy Illuminati's Secret Handshake

What emerged most powerfully was the convergence around common factors that actually predict outcomes: personality, temperament, and relationship . Whether you were listening to Nancy McWilliams (an absolute treasure of a human being) or Dan Siegel, the refrain was consistent. It didn't matter if you were wielding psychodynamic formulations or interpersonal neurobiology: relationship is the thing.

Speaker Snapshots

Nancy McWilliams : An incredible academic, author, speaker, and clinician. Worth the price of admission alone. See me fanboying with my signed copy of Psychoanalytic Supervision below:

Daniel Amen : Say what you will about brain SPECT imaging and his specious political ties, the man can work a room. Excellent public speaker, engaging, and knows his audience.

Jeffrey Zeig : Sweet soul. Terrible public speaker. The dichotomy was almost endearing.

Peter Levine : Watching Levine work with a police officer who'd lost his partner in a shooting was the kind of clinical moment that justifies the entire conference ticket price. The body doesn't lie, and Levine's ability to track and facilitate the officer's nervous system unwinding in real-time was both powerful and humbling.

Kay Redfield Jamison : I read An Unquiet Mind years ago and HAD to see her speak. Watching someone with her caliber of intellect discuss bipolar disorder, her own bipolar disorder, with such unflinching honesty and clinical precision was worth every minute. She embodies the integration of lived experience and scientific rigor in a way few can.

Harville Hendrix : Quirky as hell, but his relational insights cut deep. His wife, Helen, was notably absent, which added an odd undercurrent to his relationship-focused work. Still, the man understands how we wound each other and has spent a career figuring out how we might stop.

The Veteran's Perspective

Full disclosure: This was my second Evolution conference, the first being in 2017. Something felt different this time; less magical, perhaps. Whether that's because I've accumulated eight more years of clinical experience and the shine has worn off, or the roster was genuinely top-loaded with marquee names while the middle card underwhelmed, I can't say. Probably both.

I did, however, learn something new and personally shameful: There was an Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference in my hometown, and I missed it! In 1995. When I was 8.

The Verdict

For early career clinicians : Highly recommended. You'll leave with your theoretical allegiances shaken, your relationship to diagnosis complicated, and a healthy dose of existential dread tempered by renewed commitment to the work.

For seasoned practitioners : Your mileage may vary. The common factors message is important, but perhaps less revelatory after years in the field.

Overall rating : Solid conference. Valuable experience. Might attend again, but maybe without the BetterHelp lanyard.

The Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference continues to serve as the field's gathering place for big ideas and bigger personalities. Just don't expect anyone to solve the DSM problem or tell you how to feel about ChatGPT in the therapy room.

Trauma, Care, and Morality: How Childhood Shapes Our Sense of Right and Wrong

Fri, 22 Aug 2025 18:14:44 GMT

Trauma, Care, and Morality: How Childhood Shapes Our Sense of Right and Wrong

When I started my graduate thesis, I wasn’t trying to write a book, no masterpiece, nor magnum opus (ok, maybe a little). I just wanted to answer a question that I had been pondering for years:

How do our early childhood experiences shape the way we see right and wrong?

We often assume morality is a cognitive affair, something learned and taught through school, faith, or philosophy. But moral beliefs always seemed more basic than that to me. Maybe morality is written into our emotional lives long before we ever read a moral code or debate abstract ethics. If this were true, then what was the metaphorical pen to that moral-emotional blueprint? Two prominent moral psychology researchers, Darcia Narvaez and Jonathan Haidt, hinted at the answer.

For centuries, morality was seen as a product of reason . But psychologists like Jonathan Haidt ( The Righteous Mind , 2012) argued that moral judgments come first from intuition and feeling , with reasoning doing its cognitive work by justifying our intuited beliefs after the fact. Hundreds of studies with thousands of participants across many cultures largely validated Haidt's bold ideas.

But where do these emotive intuitions originate? Darcia Narvaez, an innovative moral psychologist out of the University of Notre Dame, suggested that our moral sense is rooted in our evolved nervous system and brain structure. Drawing from Paul MacLean's (1990) famed Triune Brain Theory ( TBT ), which indicated that our brains evolved from the bottom-up, Narvaez (2008) developed Triune Ethics Theory ( TET ), that mapped three distinct moral orientations onto MacLean's three major brain regions: The R-Complex, the limbic system, and the neocortex.

The moral orientations of TET include the safety ethic, the engagement ethic, and the imagination ethic. The safety ethic maps on to MacLean's R-complex and is associated with fear, fight-or-flight, and self-preservation. The engagement ethic activates the limbic system , a brain region responsible for attachment, emotion, and memory, and promotes a relationship-focused morality that is linked to moral emotions such as empathy, care, and compassion. Finally, the imagination ethic is associated with the " thinking brain " unique to humans, involving abstract reasoning and future-and community-focused

principles and ideals.

Narvaez emphasized that the different moral orientations are formed in early childhood through emotional and neurobiological processes in response to our caregiving environment. If we are raised in an environment of uncertainty, fear, or isolation, we are likely inclined toward the survival instinct endemic to safety and self-preservation ethics. Alternatively, if we are nurtured, secure, and embraced with positive childhood experiences, we are more likely to endorse ethics of relationship, engagement, and virtuous ideals.

This made me wonder: What do adverse childhood experiences do to one's broader Moral Foundations ?

What Are Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs)?

The concept of Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) was derived from a landmark study in the late 1990s (Felitti et al., 1998), which found that childhood adversity, like abuse, neglect, household chaos, or parental substance use, was strongly linked to mental and physical health problems in adulthood.

Since then, research has consistently shown that ACEs predict:

Higher risks of depression, anxiety, and PTSD (Hughes et al., 2017).

Physical conditions like heart disease and autoimmune disorders (Merrick et al., 2018).

Social and relational struggles throughout life, including increased risk of domestic violence (Anda et al., 2006).

But here’s the question my research explored: Do ACEs also leave an imprint on morality itself?

Narvaez's (2008) TET, along with adjacent neuroscience of emotions research suggest as much. Jaak Panksepp’s affective neuroscience identified primary emotional systems—CARE, PLAY, SEEKING,FEAR, ANGER, SADNESS—that are hardwired into the brain (Panksepp, 1998).

CARE → empathy and compassion.

PLAY → fairness, cooperation, and reciprocity.

FEAR and ANGER → defense and survival.

These systems are the emotional soil out of which moral life grows. If our primary emotional systems form the building blocks of our personalities, then moral emotions must emerge from these systems. We know from ACE research that childhood adversity plays a role in shaping our emotional and relational lives, but how do nurturing environments interact with such processes?

Why Caregiving Environments Matter

Humans evolved to expect very specific caregiving conditions. These conditions are known as the Evolved Developmental Niche ( EDN ), according to Narvaez (2014). Such necessities include responsive parents, physical affection, safe communities, and plenty of play.

When caregiving is strong: CARE and PLAY thrive → morality tilts toward compassion, community, ingroup loyalty, and fairness.

When adversity is high: FEAR and ANGER dominate → morality leans more toward defensiveness, self-preservation, and harm avoidance.

Neither path is “bad,” but adversity can make morality more defensive and rigid.

What My Research Found

In my thesis study (376 adults), participants completed measures of ACEs, caregiving, emotional tendencies, and moral foundations.

Findings:

ACEs shifted morality. High ACE scores predicted stronger individualizing values (harm, fairness) and weaker binding ones (loyalty, authority, purity). Low-and no-ACE score participants were more likely to demonstrate a more evenly distributed moral profile, with heightened emphasis on both individual and binding moral foundations.
Emotions explained the link. Negative personality systems (FEAR, ANGER, SADNESS) carried ACE effects into individualizing, self-and other-protecting morality, while CARE, PLAY, and SEEKING (the positive personality dimensions) positively influenced both socially binding and individualizing moral foundations.
Nurturing is Key. The higher the score the on the positive childhood nurturing environment measure, the stronger the relationship was with increases in positive emotional personality traits, as well as ALL moral foundations.

In short: morality isn’t simply cognitive nor cultural—it’s rooted in emotional development shaped by early caregiving environments.

Why This Matters

This perspective helps us understand others with more compassion:

Someone clinging to rules may have learned early that structure equals safety .
An oppositional child in the classroom may have experienced abuse that affects trust in authority.
Someone struggling with trust may have had FEAR wired in early .
Someone who struggles with empathy may have had their CARE system stunted by neglect .

This doesn’t excuse harmful choices—but it reframes morality as adaptation, not defect . And it opens the door to growth : our emotional systems can be reshaped through healing relationships and community .

From Thesis to Kindle

After defending my thesis, I realized these insights shouldn’t stay buried in a university archive. So I structured the project into a Kindle book:

�� Trauma, Care, and Morality: Emotions as the Link Between Childhood Adversity and Moral Foundations

I didn’t water it down—I wanted to keep the research intact while making it readable for curious readers, therapists, and educators.

Final Takeaway

If there’s one thing to remember, it’s this:

Morality grows out of the emotional soil of childhood. And even if that soil was rocky, it can still be nourished.

Our moral lives are not fixed. With therapy, safe relationships, and supportive environments, our CARE and PLAY systems can flourish again. Healing isn’t just about reducing pain, it’s about reclaiming compassion, fairness, and joy.

That’s the story my thesis told. That’s the story I put into a book. And it’s the story I’ll keep sharing, because trauma and morality aren’t abstract—they’re lived, embodied, and human.

References

Felitti, V. J., et al. (1998). Relationship of childhood abuse and household dysfunction to many of the leading causes of death in adults. The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study. American Journal of Preventive Medicine , 14(4), 245–258.
Haidt, J. (2012). The righteous mind: Why good people are divided by politics and religion . Pantheon.
Hughes, K., et al. (2017). The effect of multiple adverse childhood experiences on health: a systematic review and meta-analysis. The Lancet Public Health , 2(8), e356–e366.
MacLean, P. D. (1990). The triune brain in evolution: Role in paleocerebral functions . Plenum Press. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4899-6704-4
Merrick, M. T., Ports, K. A., Ford, D. C., & Guinn, A. S. (2018). Prevalence of adverse childhood experiences from the 2011–2014 Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System in 23 states. JAMA Pediatrics, 172 (11), 1038.
Panksepp, J. (1998). Affective neuroscience: The foundations of human and animal emotions . Oxford University Press.

Welcome!

Thu, 06 Mar 2025 05:47:30 GMT

On Metaphors & Psychotherapy

Therapy is often described as a journey—one that requires both stability and movement . As a psychotherapist, I’ve seen how people struggle with feelin g stuck in pain or overwhelmed by change, and I’ve found that metaphors offer a powerful way to reframe those experiences.

That’s why I named my practice Anchor & Sail Psychotherapy —to reflect the essential balance between grounding ourselves in what keeps us steady and having the courage to move forward toward growth.

Why Anchor & Sail?

Metaphors shape how we make sense of our experiences, and this one reflects the therapeutic process itself:

The Anchor represents stability, self-awareness, and emotional grounding —the tools we need to feel safe and centered in the face of life’s challenges.

The Sail symbolizes growth, change, and moving forward —embracing uncertainty, healing from the past, and stepping into new possibilities.

Together, they capture what therapy helps us do: find strength in where we are while building the momentum to move forward .

How Metaphors Work in Therapy

Metaphors are not just creative ways of speaking—they are fundamental to how we think, feel, and process emotions .

Research in cognitive psychology suggests that metaphorical thinking engages deeper neural pathways than literal language, making it a powerful tool for emotional processing and behavioral change (Gibbs, 2006).

In therapy, metaphors help us:

Externalize emotions – “It feels like I’m carrying a heavy backpack of stress.” This creates distance between the person and their pain, making it more manageable.

Reframe struggles – “I’m not stuck—I’m in the middle of a storm, and storms pass.” This subtle shift in language fosters hope and resilience.

See new possibilities – “What if instead of fighting the waves, we learned how to sail with them?” This encourages adaptability and acceptance.

Psychologists Michael White and David Epston (1990) emphasized that narratives and metaphors shape how we understand our identities and experiences. When someone describes their anxiety as a "constant, deafening noise," they’ve already taken a step toward seeing it as something external and adjustable, rather than an unchangeable part of who they are.

Metaphors and the Mind-Body Connection

For individuals struggling with trauma, anxiety, mood disorders, or chronic pain , metaphors can be especially valuable. Emotional distress and physical pain often feel overwhelmingly abstract —difficult to name or explain.

Consider chronic pain:

One client might describe their body as a ship battered by waves —acknowledging the struggle but also implying resilience.
Another might say their pain is like a fire that flares up unpredictably —helping them see patterns in their experience and find ways to manage it.

By working with these metaphors, therapy helps reshape one’s relationship to suffering— moving from helplessness to a sense of agency.

Navigating Change with Metaphors

We often turn to metaphors in moments of crisis, transition, or transformation . Whether it's feeling “lost at sea” after a major life change or “stuck in the mud” of depression, these images help us understand where we are—and where we might go next.

Therapy, in many ways, is about expanding our internal language s o that we don’t just see ourselves as "trapped" or "broken" but also as navigators, builders, and healers .

At Anchor & Sail Psychotherapy , I integrate the power of metaphor with evidence-based approaches to help clients move toward clarity, resilience, and healing.

Whether you need an anchor to steady you or a sail to propel you forward, therapy is a place to explore both.

Setting Sail

Metaphors aren’t just linguistic shortcuts—they are maps for the mind . They help us reimagine our struggles, find meaning in our experiences, and ultimately, change the way we see ourselves and our possibilities .

When we learn to anchor ourselves in the present while setting sail toward the future, we open the door to genuine transformation .

References

Gibbs, R. W. (2006). Metaphor and thought: The challenge of metaphor in the cognitive sciences . Cambridge University Press.

White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative means to therapeutic ends . Norton & Company.