How Embodied Movement Frees Us

About a decade ago, when I first began to feel my way into the world of somatics, I came across a picture that so arrested my attention that it eventually led me to study Hakomi, my primary form of somatic training.

The picture was from one of the Hakomi training centers and was of a woman spinning hula-hoops around multiple parts of her body. The energy radiating from this picture wasn’t your average summer festival hula-hoop vibes; there was something in this photograph that spoke of movement as a profound source of knowing in and of itself—a knowing that did not require interpretation. This photo and its sense of unmediated well-being began the journey I am still on to this day: exploring the body and movement not so much as outer form, but as inner experience.

Movement takes us right to the source—our wordless early years, our beginnings as human beings, our evolutionary origins as creatures among creatures on this living planet. In my estimation, to be alive is to move, even if that movement is infinitesimal and takes eons (the erosion of rocks, the slow drifting surge of tectonic plates).

As humans, to move in integrative ways is to speak directly to our nervous system, helping to regulate and enliven and remind us of our realness. This is especially true when we bring in the secret ingredient: a gentle inner awareness.

Witnessing our movement as we do it—not in an external, analytic way, but in a way that allows us to drop inside the experience—takes us directly into the nourishment that comes from experiencing without endlessly interpreting. It's what I sensed from the woman in that photo: a sense of calm and coherence arising directly from our own body doing what bodies were made to do.

This is movement as knowing. Movement felt from the inside just is. It teaches us something without us even realizing we’re learning. In a world that encourages constant striving, speculation, analyzing, judging, categorizing, and worrying, finding this quality of isness within our own being is profoundly—and I do mean profoundly—relieving.

This is especially true if you’re a highly sensitive person, tuned as we are toward taking in so very much of the world. Dropping into our senses and letting the movement of our body lead the way, our tired minds can rest. The wheels stop spinning. We notice our breathing for perhaps the first time all day (or week, or year). We are, quite simply, alive.

For myself, there are a few forms of movement that reliably allow me to drop into this integrated state: yoga (especially yin), qi gong, and the extraordinary movement awareness practice of Feldenkrais. All provide delicious avenues into this primordial feeling-sensing-moving that first drew me to the world of somatics. But I’ve also found this deep sense of experiencing in movements diverse as rock climbing, swimming, rolling on the floor, breathing practices, and gentle eye movements.

What I mean to say here is: find what works for you. Every body has differing needs, mobility levels, and capacities. This isn't about performance, but feeling. This gets to be your practice. And know that what works will very likely change from moment to moment, from day to day. The key ingredient is discovering movement patterns or practices that allow your mind to drop into your body and allow you to feel from the inside-out. Learning to sense and observe in this gentle, attuned, non-explanatory way is one of the most powerful acts of aliveness and healing that I know.

Dear soul, my prayer for you this month is that you may discover how movement—even small, gentle, barely perceptible movements, movement that meets you wherever you are—can be a profound source of nourishment, strength, and support in your life.

May you find a secret place of ease within the rhythms of your body.