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*Editor’s Note: Elephant is not your doctor or hospital. Our lawyers would say “this web site is not designed to, and should not be construed to provide medical advice, professional diagnosis, opinion, or treatment to you or any other individual, and is not intended as a substitute for medical or professional care and treatment. Always consult a health professional before trying out new home therapies or changing your diet.” But we can’t afford lawyers, and you knew all that. ~ Ed
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My patient’s voice trembled on the other end of the line.
“I couldn’t sleep. My heart was racing all night. My left arm—tingly. My head just didn’t feel right.” He paused. “They ran tests at the ER. Said everything’s normal.” Another pause. “But something is wrong, doc.”
I asked when it started.
Last Tuesday.
I pulled up my space weather app—something I never imagined doing in medical school. Tuesday had been a G3 geomagnetic storm. The Schumann Resonance had spiked. Suddenly, my patient’s mystery made sense.
“I don’t think this is in your head,” I told him. “I think it’s in the sky.”
That Week, My Phone Wouldn’t Stop
This patient wasn’t the only one.
A woman came in describing “sudden insomnia and this inner buzzing” three nights in a row, no explanation. Another messaged about head pressure, palpitations, and feeling like her nervous system was “vibrating from the inside out.” A patient stable for months with chronic pain reported being “wired-but-tired and weirdly emotional” for no reason she could name.
Four patients. One week. No conventional answers.
And here’s what I’ve learned to do now that I never learned in residency: I check the space weather.
What Took Me Years to See
There was a time I would have gently suggested anxiety, maybe offered a sleep aid, and moved on. That’s what we’re trained to do when the tests come back clean.
But after years of noticing these strange clusters—patients flooding in with similar “unexplained” symptoms at the same time—I started keeping my own informal log. The pattern became impossible to ignore.
Research backs what I was seeing. Geomagnetic storms affect the autonomic nervous system—the one that governs heart rate, sleep, and stress response. Heart rate variability drops during solar storms. Blood pressure shifts can happen even before a storm hits. The pineal gland, which regulates melatonin and our circadian rhythms, is sensitive to magnetic field changes.
We evolved on this planet in rhythm with its electromagnetic pulse. Maybe it’s not so strange that when the earth’s field wobbles, we feel it too.
The Part I Can’t Chart
Here’s where I step outside my training and speak from experience.
Many patients who come to me during these stormy periods don’t just feel physically off—they feel emotionally stirred. Old memories surface. Tears come unexpectedly. Conversations they’ve been avoiding suddenly feel urgent.
My patient who was “weirdly emotional”? She called a week later to say she’d finally had that long-overdue conversation with her estranged sister. The woman with the “inner buzzing”? She started meditating for the first time—and said the stillness felt essential, not optional.
I don’t know how to explain that in a medical chart. But I’ve seen it too many times to dismiss it.
What We Can Do
These days, when the space weather heats up, I take my own advice.
I drink more water. I walk outside barefoot when I can—contact with the earth settles my nervous system in ways I can’t fully explain. I skip the extra coffee. I go to bed earlier, screens off, room dark.
And I give myself permission to feel a little strange without panicking about it.
If any of this resonates—if there have been nights when sleep wouldn’t come, mornings when emotions surged without reason, moments when your body hummed with something the doctors couldn’t find—maybe it’s not a malfunction.
Maybe it’s a response.
The earth breathes. And perhaps, in ways we’re only beginning to understand, we breathe with it.
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