From Instinct to Influence
- Michael J. DeBlis III, Esq.

- 6 days ago
- 2 min read

This reaction has a name: the startle reflex. Humans share it with every other animal in the wild.
The moment we perceive danger, tension surges into the neck and the shoulders lift toward the ears. The body contracts around the throat. It happens instantly, before thought ever enters the equation.
This reflex exists for a reason.
For most of human history, we were not simply hunters. We were also prey. And predators knew exactly where to strike. A tiger bringing down an antelope does not aim randomly—it goes for the neck, where the carotid artery runs just beneath the surface. One decisive bite there ends the hunt.
Our bodies evolved a response to this reality. By tightening the neck and raising the shoulders, the body instinctively shields that vulnerable artery. It is a primitive act of self-defense—one that may have bought our ancestors a second chance at life.
That is why this reflex appears most strongly when we enter fight-or-flight mode.
But what once protected us in the wild can quietly sabotage us in the courtroom.
For trial attorneys and public speakers, the raised shoulders and tightened neck interfere with the very functions we rely upon most: breath, clarity of thought, and the ability to process information in real time. When the neck tightens, breathing becomes shallow. When breathing becomes shallow, thinking narrows. And when thinking narrows, our ability to truly listen—to witnesses, jurors, and the unfolding moment—diminishes.
Let me be clear: this response is not a flaw. Quite the opposite. It is one of the reasons you are here today. It served you well. In that sense, it was an excellent habit.
But when that same reflex constricts your voice, clouds your thinking, and limits your presence before a jury, it helps to recognize something important:
It is no longer a necessity. It is simply a habit.
And habits can be replaced.
Optimal alignment begins with the relationship between the head, neck, and spine, particularly how the head balances effortlessly on top of the spine. This relationship is known as primary control. When the head is free and balanced, the entire system reorganizes itself. Breathing deepens. The voice frees. Thought becomes clearer.
In short, better distribution of effort creates ease.
But change begins with awareness.
Before we can correct imbalance, we must first recognize our habitual tendencies. Only then can we interrupt them and choose something different. And just like the old patterns we inherited, the new ones grow stronger with repetition.
Over time, what once required conscious effort becomes automatic.
The body learns a new response.
And instead of tightening under pressure, it begins to organize itself for clarity, presence, and command—exactly what a trial attorney needs when standing before a jury.




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