Noticing the Pivot — A Daily Practice for Sensing Internal Shifts

A simple, wearable exercise in becoming aware of the subtle shift from stillness to movement, from receiving to initiating, within your own day.

It happens in the morning. You’re making coffee. The kitchen is quiet. Your mind is quiet too, or at least slow. You watch the steam rise from the kettle. For a few seconds, you’re just there. Then, like a gear engaging, the thought arrives: “I need to check my email.” Or “I should make that call now.” The quiet evaporates. Your shoulders tense, just slightly. Your breath becomes shallow. The day has officially begun.

That moment—the shift from being to doing, from receiving the world to initiating action—is what I call the Pivot. It’s not good or bad. It’s necessary. We couldn’t function without it. But most of the time, we don’t notice it. We are suddenly just on the other side of it, already reacting, already planning, already gone from the present moment.

A still point before the pivot.

Where in daily life is perception most easily lost?

It’s lost in transitions. The pivot from sleep to waking. From a break back to work. From listening to speaking. From being alone to being with others. These are the seams of the day, and our awareness often frays there. We default to autopilot. The practice isn’t about stopping the pivot—that’s impossible. It’s about widening the space around it, just enough to notice it happening.

Why bother? Because in that tiny space of noticing, there is a sliver of choice. Not a big, life-altering choice. But the choice to take one breath before answering the phone. The choice to feel your feet on the floor before standing up to start the next task. The choice to acknowledge the subtle tension that just arrived in your body, instead of letting it build unnoticed all day.

The Practice: Using an Object as a Sensor

This practice uses a simple physical object—a piece of jewelry you wear daily—as a sensor. Its job is not to be symbolic. Its job is to be present. To have weight, texture, temperature. To be something you can feel.

Let’s use the Dragon and Phoenix pendant as an example. When you put it on in the morning, take three seconds to feel it. Is it cool? Warm? Notice the weight of it settling against your chest. That’s the first anchor.

Throughout the day, you will forget it’s there. That’s fine. The practice activates when you remember it’s there. This remembering usually happens in one of two ways:

The tactile interruption of autopilot.

What is this practice not?

It is not mindfulness in the traditional, seated meditation sense. It is mindfulness-in-motion, woven into the fabric of your existing life. It requires no extra time.

It is not about achieving a permanent state of calm. Some pivots will be jarring, and noticing them might even feel uncomfortable at first. That’s fine. The goal is awareness, not tranquility.

It makes no promises. It will not solve your problems or make you more productive. Can something remain meaningful without being intense? Yes. This practice is subtle. Its value accumulates invisibly, like the slow patina on the stone itself.

The Science of the Sensor

From a cognitive perspective, this works through a process called “anchoring.” The physical sensation of the pendant becomes a neutral anchor point you can return to. When you touch it and focus on the sensation, you are briefly redirecting cognitive resources away from the ruminative or reactive parts of your brain and into the somatosensory cortex. This creates a micro-pause in the stress or habit loop. It’s a gentle, physiological intervention.

Is daily wear a form of practice—or forgetting?

It’s both, in a necessary rhythm. You forget the pendant exists for hours at a time. That’s good—it means you’re engaged with life. The forgetting allows the remembering to be fresh. Each time you remember—through touch or intention—it’s a new opportunity to notice the pivot you’re currently in. Over weeks, this creates a fascinating record: you start to learn your own patterns. You might notice you always touch it right before difficult calls (a pivot into performance), or when you’re staring out a window (a pivot into daydream). The object becomes a mirror for your inner weather.

A companion in the rhythm of forgetting and remembering.

Starting Small

Don’t try to notice every pivot. That’s exhausting. Start with one. Maybe the pivot from work to home. When you walk in your door, let your hand go to the pendant. Feel it. Take one breath. That’s it. You’ve just created a deliberate threshold.

The beauty of this practice is its utter simplicity and lack of dogma. You don’t need to believe in the symbolism of the object. You just need its physicality. Any weighted, textured piece you wear consistently can work. But a paired symbol like this one offers a gentle, built-in question for those conscious check-ins: “What kind of energy is present now?” It turns the act of sensing into a quiet, internal dialogue.

In a world that values constant output, this practice is a small act of input—sensory input. It’s a way of re-inhabiting your body throughout the day, using the forgotten weight around your neck as a guide back to the present moment, one barely-noticed pivot at a time.