Written by René Fay

I have an overly sensitive smoke alarm for my nervous system.

And honestly, I’m kind of grateful for it. It's always on the lookout, ready to alert me whenever something feels off. Unfortunately, sometimes it goes off for the tiniest things — like sending an email to the wrong person, running a little late to meet a friend, or the (more than) occasional awkward social interaction. It senses smoke but can’t tell the difference between when it’s burnt toast or the kitchen is on fire. My nervous system is just waiting for disaster and on the lookout for all the emergency exits. But here's the thing: the fire department doesn’t need to show up every time I burn my toast.

This is where my meditation practice comes in handy. In Buddhism, there’s a concept called “right mindfulness,” which teaches us to be aware of what’s happening without judgment or panic. Meditation has helped me pause before I call in the cavalry. When the smoke alarm — a.k.a. my nervous system — starts blaring, I’ve learned to take a breath and ask, “Is this a real fire, or is this a more benign discomfort?” The difference can be huge. Sometimes, it’s just burnt toast.

Mindfulness asks us to investigate our reactions instead of getting swept up in them. My nervous system, bless its heart, sounds the alarm whenever something is even a little off. But it’s not great at distinguishing between a minor inconvenience and a full-blown crisis. It’s not its job to know the difference between the smell of toast and the scent of smoke that means I’ve burned the whole kitchen down. That job is mine. And thank goodness for meditation, which helps me pause long enough to ask, “Do I need a fire extinguisher or just a fan, an open window, and some delivery?”

The Buddha said that suffering comes from our attachments and our tendency to react impulsively. My nervous system doesn’t do subtle. It reacts to the slightest discomfort like it’s the end of the world. But here’s the twist: it’s not wrong. It’s just… a little dramatic. My nervous system isn’t wrong to signal that something’s off; it’s just that it can’t always tell whether it’s a disaster or just me, once again, stumbling through life awkwardly human. That’s where mindfulness helps.

Buddhism teaches us that everything is impermanent — good and bad. The alarm may go off, but that doesn’t mean my life is going up in flames. It’s just a moment of discomfort, and like all moments, it will pass. Mindfulness doesn’t stop the alarm from going off, but it helps me not to assume catastrophe without question when it does. The key is taking that moment to breathe, reflect, and decide if I really need to call in the fire department — or if I can just deal with it and move on.