Posts

Presence Over Pressure: Rethinking Adulthood at 32

I have started todays blog with a paraphrased story to illustrate this important study for coaching and spiritual direction.

When my friend Lila brought her twenty-four–year–old nephew, Jonah, to the small group at our church last spring, I expected the usual restless energy of someone caught between college and a first job. Jonah sat quietly through the opening prayer, his hands folded, eyes darting now and then to his phone. Then he listened as a woman in her fifties talked about grief; he asked a thoughtful question about responsibility. By the time the meeting ended he admitted, with a nervous laugh, that he sometimes felt like he was “pretending to be an adult.” He wasn’t sure whether that was a confession or a relief.

This part is dense reading but worth the time if you are a coach or spiritual director. The conversation Jonah sparked has stayed with me, (Jim) because it maps a striking piece of science that demands we rethink how we guide young people in coaching and spiritual formation. IN the latest issue of “Presence” a Spiritual Directors International publication it states this study from 2025 that neuroscientists from Cambridge University published in Nature Communications (Mousley et al.) that compared diffusion MRI scans from nearly four thousand human brains ranging from infancy to ninety years old. Rather than finding a smooth, linear path of maturation, they reported discrete shifts at roughly ages nine, thirty-two, sixty-six, and eighty-three. One of the most provocative takeaways: adolescence, in neurological terms, appears to stretch well beyond what most social norms call “adulthood” — actual adulthood, the study suggests, may not begin until around age thirty-two.

This finding upends a lot of assumptions we make in churches, coaching programs, and spiritual direction. If brains remain in a significant developmental flux into the late twenties and early thirties, how should mentors, pastors, and spiritual directors show up for people like Jonah — or for us — in ways that match their neurodevelopment reality?

What the study suggests….

Mousley and colleagues used diffusion MRI to map patterns of white matter — the brain’s communication highways — across the lifespan. Prior to age thirty-two, the brain is still reorganizing: white matter is growing, neural pathways are becoming more efficient, and connectivity patterns are shifting. After roughly thirty-two, the researchers found a more stabilized architecture that often persists for about three decades, followed by later-life shifts around sixty-six and eighty-three. These aren’t just trivia about neurons; they have implications for how people form identity, sustain relationships, and engage with meaning and purpose.

A short story: the mentor, the millennial, the map When I met Jonah months later for coffee, he’d switched jobs twice and was enrolled in a night course on ethics. He confessed he dreaded the “adult checkboxes” — house, marriage, stable job — yet felt impatient with peers who seemed to have them. We talked about mentors: he wanted guidance but bristled at being told what to do. I told him about the Cambridge study — he laughed, then listened.

“Maybe being older isn’t the only way to be wise,” he said. “Maybe people can help me without trying to make me into something I’m not yet.”

That line captures the pastoral (presence) pivot we need: to offer presence without premature pressure, to accompany without imposing finished forms. The neuroscientific finding invites humility and patience. It asks us to honor the ongoing developmental work young adults are doing — neurologically, emotionally, spiritually — while providing steady practices and relational spaces that support maturation without rushing it.

Two ways for us to be present

  1. Practice steady attunement through embodied listening What it is: Embodied listening means attending to the whole person — voice, posture, affect, silence — and not just the words. It requires slowing down, modulating one’s own responses, and noticing shifts in emotion and cognitive framing without immediately correcting or advising.

How to do it:

  • Create predictable space and rhythm: offer recurring meetings that give the person time to try on insights between sessions. Stability matters to a brain still organizing its networks.
  • Use nonverbal check-ins: begin with a single question — “Where is your attention?” — allow a minute of silence, then reflect what you notice about tone and posture before asking probing questions.
  • Resist the fix: when you sense the urge to “solve” identity questions, mirror instead. “I hear uncertainty about responsibility and a desire for meaning.” This models a mind that can hold complexity without collapsing into premade answers.

Why it helps:

For a brain in flux, steady attunement supports the integration of new patterns. It offers a relational scaffold where the young adult can test emerging values and neural pathways safely.

  1. Offer scaffolded practices that combine exploration with ritual What it is: Scaffolded practices are simple, repeatable spiritual exercises that invite both experimentation and the formation of habit. They recognize that neurodevelopment thrives on both novelty (to build new connections) and repetition (to consolidate them).

How to do it:

  • Introduce three-month “experiment” cycles: choose one spiritual practice (e.g., contemplative journaling, short daily silence, or service with reflection) to try for 90 days. Check in weekly for the first month, then biweekly.
  • Combine short, diverse practices with a consistent ritual frame: begin and end with a five-minute centering practice (breath or scripture reading), then introduce a varied middle (creative reflection, dialogue, or action).
  • Encourage meta-reflection: every month, ask: “What patterns do you notice in your responses? What feels alive? What drains you?” This helps the maturing brain integrate experience into identity.

Why it helps: This approach respects the brain’s dual needs: novelty for growth and repetition for stability. Ritual gives a predictable platform for experimentation, reducing anxiety while encouraging exploration.

Why this matters to coaching and spiritual direction

  1. Developmentally informed accompaniment improves outcomes coaching and spiritual direction aim to catalyze growth: in habits, vocation, moral discernment, and interior integration. If the brain continues to rewire well into the late twenties and early thirties, then coaching strategies that treat early adulthood as a finished stage may be ineffective or even harmful. A developmental lens encourages coaches and directors to calibrate expectations, scaffold change plans over longer timelines, and attend to the neurobiological rhythms of consolidation and plasticity.
  2. It reframes maturity as a process, not a milestone spiritual direction, at its best, is about guiding people into deeper coherence — integrating emotions, beliefs, and actions. The Cambridge study reminds us that coherence can be emergent and slow. Rather than treating a thirty-year-old’s doubts as failures, we can see them as part of ongoing integration. This reduces shame and normalizes the nonlinear trajectory of faith and identity formation.
  3. It demands relational humility and patience Both coaching and spiritual direction rely on relationship. Neuroscience underscores that relationship is not merely a context but a mechanism for change: safe, attuned relationships shape neural development. Coaches and directors who cultivate attunement, ritual, and scaffolded experimentation are not just providing tools — they are offering the relational conditions in which the brain can reconfigure toward more adaptive patterns.
  4. It broadens the role of community If individual neurodevelopment unfolds across decades, community becomes a crucial resource — not merely a backdrop. Churches, peer groups, mentorship networks, and coaching cohorts can offer the recurring, low-stakes opportunities to practice new moral habits, relationships, and vocational identities. Programs that build long-term relational continuity will likely be more aligned with how brains mature.

A closing note to mentors and leaders:

When you sit across from someone like Jonah, remember you are not simply transferring information. You’re participating in a slow, relational craft of formation. The Cambridge findings do not strip away responsibility; they expand it. We must give space for the messy apprenticeship of being an adult, provide practices that balance novelty with ritual, and be present in ways that allow the nervous system and the soul to settle into new patterns of coherence.

Jonah eventually stopped checking his phone during our meetings. He still questions, still wanders in and out of certainty. But he’s started keeping a short weekly journal and meets once a month with an older mentor who listens without solving. Watching him, I’m learning to be less anxious about boxes checked and more attentive to the small, steady shifts that mark maturation. That’s the work neuroscience is asking us to honor: presence over pressure, accompaniment over answers, and the patient trust that growing up is a journey that may take longer — and be more sacred — than we thought.

Thank you for reading this study and helpful guide for professionals who coach and do spiritual direction.

Mousley, A., et al. (2025). (2025). Nature Communications. [Mousley et al., 2025, Nature Communications — diffusion MRI lifespan study]

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/41290675/

Eddy Hopping: Navigating Life’s Rapids

It occurs to me that life is complicated. Yeah Jim, we know that, and as a start to the new year and where we set those pesky new year’s resolutions, it made sense to do a series on resting in the face of life’s rapids.

As I stood at the edge of the river, the roar of the rapids ahead filled me with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I was going to go down the New River and hit those class 4 and 5 rapids with purpose. The guide’s voice cut through the noise and my reflection, explaining the technique of “eddy hopping”—a method where paddlers skillfully navigate from one calm eddy to another, using these brief pauses to assess, plan, and gather strength before tackling the next rapid. This technique, I realized, mirrored the challenges and strategies in my own life. And there were and are a lot of them.

The Metaphor of Eddy Hopping

In whitewater paddling, an eddy is a calm area of water formed behind obstacles like rocks or bends in the river. Paddlers use eddy hopping to navigate through challenging rapids by moving from one eddy to the next, allowing for brief moments of respite and reflection. This approach can be applied to personal development in several ways:

  1. Strategic Pauses: Just as paddlers pause in eddies to assess their path, we can take moments in our lives to reflect, gather strength, and make thoughtful decisions.
  2. Continuous Learning: Each “hop” from one challenge to the next is an opportunity to learn, adapt, and grow.
  3. Purposeful Progression: By moving intentionally from one goal to another, we maintain direction and momentum in our personal and professional lives.

Applying Eddy Hopping to Personal Development

Reflecting on my own journey, I recognized several areas where the principles of eddy hopping could be applied:

  1. Set Clear Goals: I began by defining what each “eddy” represented in my life—be it a project, relationship, or personal milestone. This clarity provided a roadmap for my journey.
  2. I needed to embrace the Journey: Understanding that each step, or “hop,” was part of a larger process helped me celebrate small victories and learn from setbacks. I realized that the journey itself was as important as the destination. I can share with you now that when I saw the first class 5 rapids my heart skipped a beat — they are very scary.
  3. Maintain Balance: Just as paddlers must balance their boat to navigate eddy lines, I recognized the importance of balancing my efforts to avoid burnout and ensure sustainable progress. This meant setting realistic expectations and taking time for self-care. We were in a raft and that meant working together.
  4. Seek Support: In paddling, teamwork is crucial. Similarly, I understood the value of surrounding myself with supportive individuals who could provide guidance, encouragement, and shared wisdom. Building a network of mentors and peers became a priority.

Overcoming Personal Challenges

Applying the concept of eddy hopping to my life was not without its challenges. There were moments when the rapids seemed overwhelming, and the next eddy appeared distant. During these times, I reminded myself of the importance of strategic pauses. Taking a moment to breathe, reflect, and reassess my path allowed me to approach challenges with renewed clarity and purpose. And if you remember from other blogs, Centering prayer (or Meditation) is an important part of my routine each morning as I eddy hop from day to day.

Continuous learning became a cornerstone of my journey. Each setback was something I tried to view as an opportunity to adapt and grow. I embraced the idea that mistakes were not failures but steppingstones toward improvement. This mindset shift transformed my approach to challenges, making them less daunting and more manageable. And one of the ways I did it was to remember that while other people’s opinions were important to me, they were not going to help me if they were negative.

Intentional progression required me to set clear, achievable goals and move towards them with intention. I learned to break down larger objectives into smaller, actionable steps, making the journey less overwhelming and more structured. This approach provided a sense of direction as I checked off each success.

Maintaining balance was perhaps the most challenging part. In the pursuit of goals, it was easy to become consumed by work and responsibilities. However, I recognized the importance of self-care and the need to recharge. Just as a paddler must rest to navigate the river effectively, I understood that taking time for myself was essential for sustained progress.

Seeking support was transformative. I reached out to mentors, friends, and colleagues who offered diverse perspectives and encouragement. Their insights and experiences provided valuable guidance, reminding me that I was not alone in my journey.

The Role of Resilience

Resilience played a pivotal role in my application of eddy hopping principles. Life, much like the river, is unpredictable and filled with obstacles. Embracing the concept of eddy hopping taught me to navigate these challenges with purpose and resilience. Each eddy provided a moment to regroup, reflect, and prepare for the next rapid, reinforcing the idea that setbacks are temporary and part of the journey.

Putting it all together

Eddy hopping in whitewater rafting is more than a technique; it’s a philosophy of navigating challenges with purpose, precision, and resilience. By adopting this approach, I learned to steer through life’s rapids, making deliberate choices that led me toward my desired destination. The journey, with its ebbs and flows, became a testament to the power of strategic pauses, continuous learning, purposeful progression, and the support of a community. As I continue to navigate the river of life, I carry with me the lessons learned from each eddy, each rapid, and each moment of reflection, knowing that with each hop, I am moving closer to the person I aspire and want to be.

Embracing the Dark Night

I thought I would continue the dark night concept for one more post and talk about the journey of life, where we often encounter moments that challenge our understanding of joy, meaning, and purpose. These moments can be likened to a “Dark Night,” a term that spiritual director Therese DesCamp uses to describe periods of profound struggle and introspection. She says that during these times, we may feel a loss of meaning, joy, and certainty, accompanied by doubt and self-doubt. Yet, as DesCamp poignantly illustrates, even in the depths of despair, there exists a flicker of light—a desire to take care of ourselves, to serve others and a capacity for compassion that can emerge from our darkest experiences.

This concept of the dark night is not new; it has been explored by mystics and spiritual leaders throughout history. When we are in our heads and nothing makes sense, just maybe the reason is not intellectual. It could represent a phase where an individual is grappling with their beliefs, confronting their fears, and often feel isolated from the divine or their sense of self. DesCamp acknowledges that during these times, feelings of sorrow and confusion can be overwhelming. However, she also emphasizes that the dark night is not merely a period of suffering; it is a transformative experience that can lead to deeper connections with others.

DesCamp’s reflections remind us that while we may feel lost, we are not alone in our struggles. The dark night can serve as a catalyst for growth, pushing us to look beyond ourselves and recognize the shared human experience of suffering. It is in this recognition that we can begin to cultivate compassion—not just for others, but for ourselves as well.

One of the most striking aspects of DesCamp’s experience during her dark night is her ability to find humor in life. Laughter, even in the face of adversity, can be a powerful tool for healing. It allows us to take ourselves lightly, to step back from the weight of our struggles, and to find joy in the absurdities of life. This ability to laugh, especially at ourselves, can serve as a reminder that we are all imperfect beings navigating a complex world.

That reminds me of a work trip Lynette, and I had taken to Italy, and we had parked our car for lunch in the square of a small town, with lots of people around. When we came back out from lunch there were no people in sight and our car had been broken into with everything stolen, including my passport. Lynette and I looked over the roof of the car and started laughing, because the truth is it was absurd.

Humor can act as a bridge, connecting us to others and reminding us that we share common experiences. When we laugh, we create moments of levity that can break through the heaviness of our circumstances. DesCamp’s insight encourages us to seek out these moments of joy, even when they seem elusive. By embracing laughter, we can foster resilience and maintain a sense of hope amidst the darkness.

Perhaps the most profound realization that emerges from DesCamp’s reflections is the idea that the dark night can enhance our capacity for compassion. In times of personal struggle, we often become more attuned to the suffering of others. The pain we experience can deepen our empathy, allowing us to connect with those around us on a more profound level. DesCamp notes that caring for others can sometimes be the only relief from our own suffering, highlighting the interconnectedness of our experiences.

When we work hard to shift our focus away from our own ego and towards the needs of others, we can find purpose and meaning even in the darkest of times. This shift in perspective can be transformative, as it allows us to transcend our individual struggles and engage with the world in a more meaningful way. By extending compassion to others, we not only alleviate their suffering but also create a sense of community and belonging that can be incredibly healing.

DesCamp’s journey through the dark night has led her to a profound awareness of the preciousness of all life. In moments of despair, we may lose sight of the beauty that exists around us. However, the dark night can heighten our appreciation for the simple joys and connections that make life meaningful. It reminds us that even in our darkest moments, there loves to be found.

This awareness can inspire us to cultivate gratitude for the relationships we have and the experiences we share with others. It encourages us to recognize the inherent value in every individual and to approach life with a sense of reverence. By embracing the preciousness of life, we can transform our suffering into a source of strength and resilience.

As we navigate our own dark nights, it is essential to remember that these experiences are not permanent. They are phases of our journey that can lead to greater self-awareness and connection. DesCamp’s insights remind us that even when we feel lost, we have the capacity to serve, to love, and to find joy amid sorrow.

In practical terms, how can we embrace the lessons of the dark night? I have been thinking of a few suggestions from my own times in the “Dark Night”.

Practice Self-Compassion: Acknowledge your struggles without judgment. Hard to do right? Allow yourself to feel the emotions that arise during difficult times and treat yourself with the same kindness you would offer a friend.

Seek Connection: Reach out to others who may be experiencing their own dark nights. Share your experiences, listen to their stories, and offer support. Building a community of understanding can be incredibly healing.

Embrace Humor: Look for moments of levity in your life. (remember Italy) Find joy in the small things, and don’t be afraid to laugh at yourself. Humor can be a powerful antidote to despair.

Cultivate Gratitude: Take time each day to reflect on the things you are grateful for. This practice can help shift your focus from what is lacking to the abundance that exists in your life.

Engage in Service: Find ways to serve others, whether through volunteering, offering a listening ear, or simply being present for someone in need. Acts of kindness can create a sense of purpose and connection.

Tying all this together we can look at Therese DesCamp’s reflections on the dark night to offer a profound perspective on the human experience. While these periods of struggle can be challenging, they also provide opportunities for growth, connection, and compassion. By embracing the lessons of the dark night, we can emerge with a deeper understanding of ourselves and a greater capacity to love and serve others. I think I also need to make a point here about serving others, sometimes that means your own family, people at work, and so forth and not the stranger. In the end, it is through our shared experiences of suffering and joy that we find the light that guides us through the darkness.

Therese DesCamp, Hands Like Roots: Notes on an Entangled Contemplative Life (Santos Books, 2025), 108.