This is part 1/3 of my series: “Something Magical Came Together at Big Ears Festival
Three Embodied Practices
One of the core challenges I keep returning to while writing my portion of Embodying the Biology of Belief is this: how can I help unpack the science so it’s more understandable and, most importantly, build a bridge to a livable experience for the reader?
Bruce Lipton’s Biology of Belief changed how I understand cells, perception, and human potential. But understanding the science intellectually and actually living it—embodying it in my daily life—are two very different things.
Over the years, I’ve developed practices. Not complicated protocols or techniques that require special equipment or training. Just simple, accessible ways to drop out of my head and into my body. Ways to interrupt the mental loops and land in the present moment.
These practices aren’t things I do on a meditation cushion once a day and then forget about. They’re woven into the fabric of my regular life. They happen while I’m walking downtown, sitting in my car, or standing in my kitchen.
I never planned any of it, and I didn’t even know I was “doing” anything. But over time—and as Bruce teaches, through repetition—something happens to the nervous system. If that repetition keeps being nurtured, it naturally turns into a practice.
Recently, I became more aware of these practices and their implications. I was reaping the rewards of having more pleasant life experiences regularly by consciously choosing to create those moments.
Bottom line: these practices work, and my goal is that they inspire you in some way to create your own version.
Something magical happened at Big Ears Festival recently. It involves three embodied practices, and over the next three blog posts, I’d like to share how they all came together.
- 10/10 – A practice that started with my son’s birth and evolved into a daily reminder to pause, feel, and return to what matters.
- Bookmarking – How to consciously lock in moments of joy and access them anytime, creating your own library of cellular nourishment.
- Just Feel How Good Everything Is Right Now – Eight words that arrived like a transmission and became a practice for letting go when life feels tight.
Each practice is different. Each came from a specific moment in my life. But they all share something in common: they help me access the 500 million years of cellular wisdom already living in my body.
Because our cells know things our minds don’t. They’ve been adapting, learning, and evolving since long before we were born. The question isn’t whether that wisdom exists—it’s how to access it consciously, playfully, and in the ordinary moments of our lives.
These three practices are my answer to that question.
They’re offerings. Invitations. Starting points.
Try them. Adapt them. Let them spark your own embodied practices.
Because the real work of embodying the biology of belief isn’t about memorizing concepts—it’s about finding simple, sustainable ways to live from your body’s intelligence instead of just your mind’s stories.
Let’s begin with the first in our series of three.
10/10 Embodied Practice
One of the core challenges my co-author and I keep returning to while writing our book is this: how do we make the science livable? How do we take what can quickly become heavy material and bring it down to earth — to the level of a curious elementary schooler, or better yet, to the level of your daily life?
That’s the real work. Because our cells have been learning to adapt to life on this planet for over 500 million years. That wisdom is already in you. The question is how to access it — consciously, playfully, and in the ordinary moments of your day.
Which brings me to my 10/10 practice.
It started with my son Noam, born at home in our quiet, woodsy place in Santa Cruz on October 10, 2009, at 10:47pm on a peaceful early fall evening. I was rooting for 10/10 all day. My wife Laura was feeling it too — she was all in. Let’s get this baby out. She’s my forever unsung hero.
With under an hour and a half before October 11 crept in, I remember that quiet intensity — not attached to the outcome, just strongly feeling that there was something about 10/10 and this child.
The following morning — Noam’s first morning home — I stumbled into the kitchen and glanced at the oven clock the way you do without thinking. It read 10:10. I smiled. Made the connection. Thought of him, this newborn barely 12 hours into the world, and felt my heart fill up completely.
And then it kept happening.
Walking into a room, glancing at my phone, opening my laptop — 10:10 would just be there. Morning, evening, sometimes both. It became undeniable. And every single time, it gave me a pause — a breath, a thought of Noam, of our family, of those moments leading up to a magical homebirth experience, palpable feelings of connection, love and the grand mystery of this lived experience. A whole universe of these feelings compressed into a single instant of awareness.
And that’s what 10/10 keeps pointing me towards when I see it.
That’s my personal reference of an embodied practice. There’s a felt sense when it happens that matches no other. It’s embedded in my connective tissue.
Not complicated. Not requiring a meditation cushion or a wellness retreat. Just a cue — a moment that your nervous system learns to recognize — that pulls you out of autopilot and into presence.
Your cells respond to that. Every time.
And it keeps evolving. Noam is sixteen now, so this has been going on for years. The practice became its own form of autopilot. Then something new emerged: in the past year, 9:29 started showing up. It appeared across my devices and at home on the famous oven clock, slightly before bed, or just before leaving for work on most days.
September 29 is my birthday — a self-reflected pause for the cause. An acknowledgment to my higher self that I’m doing the best I can and I will continue to. A moment of an inner smile and a personal hug for all that I am.
So now both numbers appear with an undeniable regularity that I can’t explain and don’t need to. (There are quite a few more “times in forms of birthdays” that I notice and show up for me, but no need to be redundant here.)
So, every time I see 9:29, the same thing happens—I pause, I smile, I feel it in my deep belly, and somewhere in that moment I hear “I love you” — and then consciously respond, “I love you more!”
Just writing that made me smile. And that’s exactly the point — that’s exactly how it feels in the body when it happens.
My cellular democracy receiving these messages repeatedly does something. Repetition creates neural pathways, yes, but it also signals safety, belonging, worthiness at the cellular level. That extra something feels energizing, feels healthy, feels vital.
The beat has been waiting for your arrival and for you to notice it. And it is strongly passionate about helping you show up fully for your life.
I’d love to hear: do you have a moment like this in your own life? A number, a song, a smell that stops you and brings you back. What’s your 10/10?
You may already be practicing without “knowing” it.
This is part 1/3 of my series: “Something Magical Came Together at Big Ears Festival
- Part 1: 10/10 Embodied Practice
- Part 2: The Gap Between Knowing and Living
- Part 3: Making the Invisible Visible
