Resourcing the Self: What Animals Teach Us About Grounding and Safety
- rachel stokes
- 21 hours ago
- 4 min read
It’s a hot summer afternoon in Long Beach, and I’m perched on the porch of my current sit, trying to cool down with a can of iced tea. Kiko and June lie in the shade below. A car alarm suddenly erupts nearby, and both dogs snap their heads in its direction. The noise cuts off as quickly as it started, and that’s when I notice something familiar: their noses tilt skyward, sniffing the air in unison. I’ve seen this pattern countless times over the years as an animal caretaker.
What once looked like random behavior now feels like something much deeper. Through my own nervous system work, I’ve come to recognize this as resourcing—a way the body checks in with its environment and restores presence. It’s not just the animals who do this. Humans share the same biological need, because the nervous system itself is inherently relational. In other words, it comes alive in response to the felt sense that it’s not alone.
I’ve come to see resourcing fall into two tangible categories—both alive in my own life and in the animals I care for: energetic and relational.
Energetic Resourcing: Anchoring Beyond the Body
Energetic resourcing is connecting to sources of safety and stability outside yourself—nature, spiritual guidance, or even the felt sense of a cozy space.
Sometimes this can look like sitting under a tree and feeling your feet in the dirt, or noticing the steady presence of the earth beneath you. Other times it may look like infusing your space with safety cues, or wearing a textured honeycomb sweater in 80-degree weather because, for some reason, it just feels right. The body doesn’t care if it makes logical sense—it’s just scanning for cues of safety, and textures, colors, and shapes in your space are all part of that conversation.
For me, energetic resourcing has also come through spiritual guidance. I know that might sound like a hot take, but I believe it’s becoming more common. When the nervous system feels safe enough, it naturally opens the door to extra-sensory experiences—whether that’s synchronicities, imagery in dreams, or even subtle communication with something bigger. Still, even with all of that, I resisted the idea that I didn’t have to hold everything alone. That resistance was biological: the nervous system is designed first to detect threat and build habits around it, not to expand into the unknown.
Animals remind us how natural this is. Birds fluff their feathers and perch in safe spots, taking in the environment before they take flight. Cats stretch, blink slowly, or sprawl out in a patch of sunlight, soaking in safety cues before drifting back into rest. These aren’t random behaviors—they’re living examples of how bodies, whether human or animal, find anchoring beyond themselves.
Don’t be fooled by the word “beyond.” The human language is limited to our third-dimensional understanding of space and time. Nothing is really as “out there” as we think. In fact, some of the most tangible resourcing is the kind every human can relate to.
Relational Resourcing: Co-Regulation with Others
In the last half decade, science has begun to (sort of) catch up to what indigenous and grounded cultures have always known: nothing is separate. The old Newtonian idea of life as a bunch of particles bumping into each other breaks down when you zoom into the quantum level. Down there, things get weird. Matter behaves more like waves of information—constantly broadcasting and receiving.
This means your nervous system is wired to co-regulate. It’s built to feel with and through others. That’s why a safe, grounded presence can change your whole state without you even realizing it. I notice this especially as my own capacity for safety expands. No longer do I have the energy to entertain people that enjoy perpetual chaos and drama. Girl bye!
Sitting next to a friend you trust, sharing a laugh, or leaning into the steady rhythm of a cats purr—your body reads those cues as safety. Often times - faster than your mind can.
Animals mirror this effortlessly. Wolves not only hunt in packs; they also rest in close proximity, syncing their bodies to each other’s rhythms. One wolf shifts, and the others adjust. Alertness and calm ripple through the pack like invisible waves. We’re not so different—our nervous systems are also quietly tuning, attuning, and re-tuning with the company we keep. This is just one of the many gems about life we can learn from animals.
Nervous System in Motion: Learning from Animal Behavior
Whether you’re burying your feet in the grass or imagining Yeshua offering you a steady hand on your shoulder, the nervous system responds in the same way: it calms, grounds, and reorients to safety. Why? Through resourcing and regulating, you’re engaging the front branch of the vagus nerve—the part that governs connection, calm, and self-trust. It's not a coincidence the ventral branch of the vagus nerve connects to your heart! When you engage it, you’re redirecting your body’s energy away from old threat patterns and into present-moment safety.
Animals model this all the time. Cats stretch, knead, and slow blink to downshift their systems. Herds check in with one another, passing waves of safety through the group. These aren’t quirks—they’re strategies the body uses to return to presence again and again.
Conclusion
Resourcing, then, is less about fixing ourselves and more about noticing where safety is available right now—so we meet life not from survival, but from the steady rhythm of staying with our body.
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