The nervous system, healing, and what healthy ageing involves.

A couple of years ago, I started skipping again. My ‘debuts’ were very humbling. I wasn’t even trying impressive moves like Criss Cross or Switch Cross, just a few simple hops over the rope, the kind of thing I had done without thinking as a child.

As it turned out, it was far more difficult than I thought.

Each time I tried to lift both feet at the same time, my body felt uncertain. I reminded myself of a horse refusing to jump over a fence! It sounds absurd. After all, I do yoga, I do strength training, I run. I consider myself fit and I can easily lift my feet off the ground. But I hadn’t skipped for many years, and my body had forgotten what it felt like. It was clearly unsure how to react.

The intelligence at work

Everyone is talking about the extraordinary power of Artificial Intelligence. True, it is remarkable. But while we marvel at machines learning to think, we often overlook the incredible intelligence at work every single moment inside our own bodies.

As you read these words, your eyes are making thousands of tiny adjustments, your brain is decoding symbols, making sense of them, your heart is fine-tuning its rhythm. Without any conscious effort, trillions of cells are communicating through electrical and chemical signals. Small repairs take place. Old cells are being replaced. Memories are being stored, hormones released, balances maintained.

Now pick up a pen to make notes, and networks of muscles, tendons, joints, and sensory receptors coordinate a movement so precise you can form letters on a page. If you move your body, strengthen or stretch, more magic happens. All of this happens without instruction manuals, software updates, or conscious management. I find it mind-blowing. And it is all in service of one thing: keeping us alive.

The question the nervous system is always asking

At the centre of all of this is the nervous system constantly evaluating the world and the body within it. Its primary concern is not performance or even health in the way we tend to think of it. Its primary concern is survival.

Every movement, every sensation, is filtered through a single question: Is this safe?

When the answer is yes, muscles coordinate efficiently. Our movements are fluid. Repairs continue in the background. We can build strength. Mobility can improve.

When the answer is no - even when that ‘no’ is based on a prediction rather than an actual threat - the body takes a different path. Movement becomes guarded.

This is what happened when I tried to skip. My nervous system simply signalled ‘you know what, I’m not sure about that!’ Fortunately, that was a very gentle signal.

On other occasions however, the nervous system might send a stronger signal in the form of pain. Not because tissues are damaged, but as a form of warning. This is not weakness or failure. On the contrary, this is intelligence! But it can become overactive, in particular if we have old injuries or if we hold a lot of tension. As a result, the body feels restricted. However, it doesn’t feel restricted because it cannot do this movement. It feels restricted because it is not feeling safe. And that difference is crucial.

Learning to trust again

This is where the skipping story becomes relevant. And it is not just my story.

One of my students, now 80, came to class two years ago with very limited movement in her shoulders. And over time, she has regained a great deal of shoulder mobility. I have to stress that she is an incredibly diligent and patient practitioner. Our approach has been simple: breath-led, gradual, precise movement, well within her comfort zone, with a clear intention to experience safety in the body.

What seems to be happening is not that she has changed the physical structure of her shoulder, though that may be part of it. Through repetition and gentle attention, she has reassured her nervous system that these movements are safe. It is not just about moving a joint, but also about rebuilding trust.

This is the piece that most approaches to fitness often overlook. We focus on the muscle, the joint, the tissue, and we forget that all of it is interpreted through a nervous system that has its own history, its own fears, and its own idea of what is manageable and safe.

Why this matters more as we age

If the body is under ongoing stress, it behaves differently. The nervous system remains on alert and will always prioritise protection over restoration. This affects inflammation, muscle function, coordination and slows down healing.What needs highlighting here is that the body does not distinguish clearly between a lion in the room and a long-held belief that movement is dangerous. Both create the same internal state. Perceived stress has the same impact as real stress.

On the other hand, when the nervous system registers safety, the body reallocates its resources. Repair improves. Movement becomes more efficient.

This is why the same physical practice can have very different results depending entirely on the internal state in which it is performed. And it is why, as we age, the quality of our internal environment matters as much as the exercise itself.

Small signals, accumulating over time

The good news is that this system is responsive. It is not fixed. It is listening.

We can change the trajectory.

And it can be as simple as breathing consciously! Our breath offers a direct line of communication with the nervous system and is one of the few physiological processes we can consciously influence. A slightly longer exhale, a soft hum at the end of the breath, a few moments of stillness before moving. These are not dramatic interventions. But if practised consistently, they help reset our system.

Movement itself plays a role, but not just any movement. Slow, attentive, progressive movement is more reassuring than sudden effort. It provides the nervous system with evidence that this is manageable. This is controlled. This is safe.

A different way of thinking about ageing

I truly believe that growing old – or as I often say ‘growing wise’ – is an opportunity to improve the way we communicate with our body. Rather than seeing ageing as a sad story of unavoidable wear and tear, we can view it as an invitation to be more attentive to the signals our body is sending and more skilful in the way we respond

As the years pass, I find myself less interested in pushing through discomfort and more curious about understanding it. Why is there tension here? What does my body

want to tell me? My goal is not to convince the body to do more but to reassure it that it is safe to move and explore.

Healthy ageing, in this light, is not simply about maintaining strength or flexibility. It is about creating the conditions in which those qualities can emerge naturally. It means working with the nervous system, building trust through mindful movement.

And when the body feels safe - truly safe - it is often capable of far more than we imagine.

After all, the body that has carried you through every season of your life is not your obstacle. It is your oldest and most faithful intelligence