Out Of The Heart And Into The Mind

Poetry By Britt Wolfe Author

Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe

Anxiety is a migration.

It begins in the body—
a quickening,
a tightening,
a signal without language.

And almost immediately,
the mind intervenes.

It pulls the experience upward,
out of sensation
and into analysis.

What is this?
Why is this happening?
What does it mean?

The heart does not answer.

It was never meant to.

Its language is felt,
not solved.

But the mind—
trained for certainty—
cannot tolerate
an unnamed state.

So it begins its work.

It scans for cause.
It constructs explanations.
It searches the past
for precedent,
the future
for outcome.

It calls this problem-solving.

But the problem
is not the feeling.

The problem
is the demand
that the feeling
make sense.

And so the mind
tightens its grip.

If I can understand this,
I can control it.

If I can predict it,
I can prevent it.

If I can name it,
I can neutralise it.

But anxiety does not resolve
under interrogation.

It expands.

Because the mind
is not searching for truth—

it is searching
for certainty.

And certainty
is not available here.

So the questions multiply.

What if this means something is wrong?
What if this doesn’t go away?
What if this gets worse?

Each thought
presented as a solution,
each one
deepening the alarm.

The body responds accordingly.

More tension.
More urgency.
More signal.

And the mind,
misreading the escalation,
concludes:

See?
Something must be wrong.

This is the loop.

A system designed
to protect
becomes a system
that sustains itself.

Not because it is broken—
but because it is doing
exactly what it was built to do

in the absence of safety.

The exit is not found
in better thinking.

Not in more analysis.
Not in sharper conclusions.

The exit
is a return.

Back to the place
the mind abandoned.

The body.
The breath.
The untranslatable experience
of being here
without explanation.

To feel
without immediately
trying to resolve.

To allow
without categorising.

To remain
without retreating
into thought.

This is not passive.

It is not resignation.

It is the courage
to stop negotiating
with uncertainty
and begin living
alongside it.

The heart does not require
certainty
to continue.

It only requires
permission.

And when it is given—

when the mind loosens,
even slightly—

something steadier
begins to take shape.

Not control.

Not answers.

But presence.

A way of being
that does not fracture
at the first sign
of the unknown.

A way of staying
inside your life
instead of thinking
your way out of it.

Out of the mind.

Back into the heart.

Where nothing is guaranteed—

and everything
is still
allowed.

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Poetry by Britt Wolfe:

Britt Wolfe

Britt Wolfe writes emotionally devastating fiction with the precision of a heart surgeon and the recklessness of someone who definitely shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects. Her stories explore love, loss, and the complicated mess of being human. If you enjoy books that punch you in the feelings and then politely offer you a Band-Aid, you’re in the right place.

https://bio.site/brittwolfeauthor
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The Labyrinths And The Caves Within Me