The Hormone Formerly Known as Evil
Clearing Cortisol’s Name & Catching Fevers in Foreign Lands
Hi, angel! Welcome back to the inside of my brain <3
Today, I land in your inbox with two humble offerings:
A redemption song about your body’s most notorious hormone, cortisol
A story of the revelations I encountered this past New Year’s Day, in Vietnam, while battling a nasty fever!
But first, a gentle invitation:
This summer, I’m teaching at one of the most incredible festivals in Sussex, England: yoga, breathwork, music, deep connection, and the kind of experience that stays with you for life.
If you’ve been craving a reset, this is your chance to step away from the noise, move your body, and tap into something bigger.
Spots are filling up, and once they’re gone, they’re gone.
I hope to see you there!
Without further ado, allow me to clear cortisol’s name:
Clearing Cortisol’s Name: A Misunderstood Messenger
Picture your body as a living shrine—an intricate temple of breath, light, and intelligent rhythms. Every molecule within it is sacred, and cortisol — yes, even cortisol — is no exception. It’s not the villain it’s been made out to be. It’s a messenger. A guide. A torchbearer for dawn.
In ancient yogic teachings, harmony—not suppression—is the path. The goal was never to silence our inner fires, but to tend them with care.
Cortisol rises with the sun like a faithful gatekeeper, whispering to our cells: “Awaken, beloved. The day awaits.” This surge isn’t stress—it’s vitality in motion. Ancient yogis knew this. That’s why they greeted the morning barefoot under the sky, saluting the sun with breath and movement, aligning their inner tides with the world’s natural rhythm.
Cortisol is your ally in dharma—the energy that helps you focus, act, create, serve. But just like any force of nature, it must be balanced. When the fire burns too long without pause, it scorches.
Excess cortisol—when not met with enough rest, ritual, or refuge—can fray the nervous system, muddy the mind, and harden the heart. The danger lies not in its presence, but in its unchecked reign.
So how do we honor the wisdom of cortisol without letting it run wild?
• Start with rhythm. Wake and sleep with the sun as often as you can. Nature heals what schedules break.
• Watch your inputs. Caffeine, screens, doomscrolling—they all spike cortisol. Treat them as sacred tools, not constant companions.
• Breathe like the ocean. Ujjayi breath, slow and wave-like, tells the body you are safe. Especially in moments of overwhelm.
• Let your exhales be long. Longer exhales slow your heart, soothe your nerves, and remind your system to soften.
• Take real rest. Not just zoning out—but rituals of deep exhale: restorative yoga, warm baths, gentle music, or simply lying with your legs up the wall and one hand on your heart.
Evening is when cortisol bows out—if we let it. Create a nightly ritual that says: thank you for today. Now I return to stillness. Sip warm tea. Light a candle. Let your yoga be moonlit—soft, fluid, devotional.
Yoga was never about perfection; it’s always been about awareness. Listening inward. Working with our energies, not against them. Cortisol isn’t a curse—it’s part of the cosmic intelligence that breathes through you. The key is to treat it like fire: ignite it with purpose, extinguish it with reverence.
So tomorrow morning, as you rise and reach your arms skyward in Surya Namaskar, smile. Cortisol is there too—bowing the sun into your bloodstream, helping you rise to this life.
Now, my New Years epiphany, live from Vietnam!
January 2nd, 2025
Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam
On my second morning at my tranquil farm homestay on the outskirts of Saigon, I woke up to a raging fever and an ear-splitting headache. The humid air felt heavier, the early sunlight sharper, and the soft hum of cicadas somehow deafening. I lay there, mulling over what could have caused my sudden illness. Was it the goat-feeding frenzy the day before? The swamp of a hundred crocodiles I foolishly wandered into? Or perhaps it was the barefoot exploration, with mosquitoes devouring my legs as if they hadn’t eaten in years. Or maybe—just maybe—it was something deeper, something cosmic.
It struck me that this might be my body’s way of purging the lingering energies of 2024. A visceral sweat-out to make space for the transformations I’d set my sights on in the new year. After all, this was meant to be my year of renewal. Last New Year’s, I was in Pokhara, Nepal, poised on the edge of change. Days before earning my yoga teacher certification, I was weighing the decision to uproot my life in New York City—my band, my relationship, my job—and embark on a solo journey across Asia. Perhaps this fever was my body’s dramatic way of burning away any residual baggage I hadn’t fully let go of.
But pondering the metaphysical didn’t erase the pounding in my head. Every movement sent waves of dizziness crashing through me. Shivering one moment, sweating the next, I couldn’t even stomach breakfast. My host mother, Mai—the matriarch of this lush little farm—noticed immediately. With the fierce care of a natural-born healer, she sprang into action, weaving together remedies that felt both ancient and profound.
It began with a mysterious fermented coconut liquor, which she handed to me with strict instructions to gargle and spit out. I obeyed, even as it burned my throat. Next came a handful of dried goo beans, to be swallowed with hot tea. Then, she brewed a potent elixir of bamboo shoots, ginger root, and garlic—its earthy, pungent aroma somehow soothing in my fragile state.
But the true alchemy came in the form of a DIY steam bath. She gathered herbs from her garden—lemongrass, spearmint, lemon balm, cilantro, sweet basil, and leaves I couldn’t name—and boiled them in a pot. Once the pot was steaming, she brought it to my room, placed it under a thick quilted blanket, and instructed me to sit beneath the makeshift canopy. As I pulled back the lid of the pot, the fragrant steam enveloped me, soaking into my skin and lungs, forcing me to sweat out what felt like every toxin in my body. For 20 minutes, I sat cocooned in this herbal sanctuary, my sinuses clearing and my body warming from the inside out.
When I emerged, I felt like I had shed a layer of illness. The simplicity of it amazed me: no expensive sauna, no high-tech equipment—just a pot, a blanket, and the gifts of the earth.
Yet, I wasn’t fully healed. The fever lingered, and Mai’s final offer was a plastic bag of eight vividly colored pills. While my intuition trusted her natural remedies, the capsules felt like a gamble I wasn’t ready to take. Instead, I opted for a long nap, hoping rest would be my ultimate healer.
By evening, the fever persisted. At 6:30 PM on New Year’s Eve, I gave in to a dose of NyQuil and surrendered to sleep. I woke on January 1, 2025, still feverish, the headache an unwelcome companion. Finally, desperate and curious, I swallowed the cocktail of pills Mai had given me. Twenty minutes later, the fever broke. The headache dissolved. Whatever those pills were, they worked like magic.
Mai’s care had gone far beyond herbs and medicine. She brought me warm food when I couldn’t get out of bed, left little trinkets by my pillow, and even coaxed me into tiny adventures around the farm. Her kindness reminded me of home—of my mom’s sweater that smells like comfort, my dad’s thick, velvety hummus, and my sister’s laughter over late-night tea. Despite being thousands of miles from Brooklyn, Mai gave me a piece of home when I needed it most.
As I sit in a taxi heading to the airport, leaving Vietnam behind, my heart swells with gratitude. For Mai, whose healing hands and heart nursed me back to health. For the sweeping mountain vistas of the north. For the kind strangers who welcomed me. For the crocodiles I’ll never forget. For the children with osteogenesis imperfecta who joined me in practicing yoga. And for this country, which taught me that healing isn’t always linear—but it’s always possible.
Though my fever forced me to sweat out the ghosts of 2024, I carry Vietnam’s warmth and wisdom in my bones as I step into my next country. Transformation, after all, isn’t just a solemn road we walk alone. It’s an ensemble parade comprised of healing ecosystems and uplifting accomplices!
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wonderful post Etai...thank you for sharing and teaching us!