Therapy used to be called "the talking cure." But talking is not the only way that we can deal with things. In fact, much of what we experience is beyond the reach of words. It is expressed through the body.
This is very much the case in trauma. But it's also the case in circumstances that are much less dramatic. Paying attention to a body felt sense allows us to process more deeply. Yeah, more deeply than using words alone.
So, now, we have this amazing tool for therapy, almost magical, the body. And we are very disoriented when it does not seem to work.
I'm going to give you an example.
In a session, I want to invite embodied awareness from the client.
I ask something like, "What do you feel right now?" Or, "Where do you feel that in your body?"
The client looks at me and says, "I do not know." Or, "Nothing special." Or, even, sometimes, "I do not feel anything."
In that moment, I may think that the client is resistant. Uncooperative. Simply not very good at getting in touch with their body.
I might notice a subtle frustration in myself. Or a quiet sense that we are no longer collaborating. It is as if a gap suddenly opened up in the room. A sense of distance between the client and me.
Over time, I have learned that distance is important clinical information. It is not telling me about a deficit in the client. It is telling me about what is happening between us, in that exact moment.
I'll backtrack a little bit.
Therapy is fundamentally relational. When the client does not have direct access to body awareness, my role is not to double down on technique.
That would be demanding that the client meet me where I am. My job is to build a bridge. A bridge that connects me to where the client actually is.
That's a relational perspective. When I shift to a relational perspective, my emotional posture shifts. I become more aligned with the difficulty that the client is having. I remember that accessing internal bodily sensations is not always easy. Not always familiar. Not always tolerable.
It's not just that. There is often something more floating in the room, if only I, as the therapist, have the flexibility to become aware of it. There can be so many things behind an "I do not know."
It could be a simple, honest statement of what the client actually feels, or doesn't feel.. It could also be an anxious attempt to find the "right" answer. To perform well for me, the therapist. It could be a protective freeze response, where bringing attention inward feels overwhelming. Or who knows what else.
That "I do not know" is not an obstacle blocking the road. It may be more like the tip of an iceberg. Hinting at so much more, below the surface.
This brings me right back to what I love to do. Exploring with the client what is present but not yet visible. For that, I need to stay connected with them, right where they
This perspective also changes how I think about embodiment. It is not something I have to make happen.
Experience is embodied, whether or not we consciously register it as sensation. A client may not identify a feeling in their chest, or their stomach. But embodiment is still fully present.
It shows up in body language. Facial expressions. Posture. Muscular tension. Micro-movements. Breathing patterns. The changing quality and rhythm of speech. All of it is there for me to notice. If only I pay attention, instead of feeling that we have hit a wall.
Noticing what is happening bodily does not give me a diagnostic reading of the client's internal world. I do not assume a tightened jaw means the client is anxious. Or holding back anger. But what I observe gives me a concrete entry point. An entry point for more exploration.
From there, something becomes possible.
I no longer need to focus on "Where do you feel it." Or search for a better somatic question. I now have something to start with, based on what I observed.
I might say, "I notice your shoulders just came up toward your ears. What is happening right now?" Or, "I noticed you became very still just now. Did you notice that?" Or, "I notice we both just took a deep breath. Let us just sit here with that, for a second."
The goal is not to tell the client what they are feeling. The goal is to bring an observable detail into the shared relational space. So both of us can become curious about it together.
I am moving away from demanding an internal report. And moving toward exploring a shared observation.
There is no magic formula for turning an observation into an insightful comment. We are in an intersubjective space. What I have are informed guesses. Guesses, nonetheless. Not an answer. An entry point into a process.
The client is constantly giving me feedback. It could be a faint smile of relief, as we move from a stuck place. A smile that may not even be fully conscious.
It could be a slight wince. Some other sign that this is not going in a pleasant direction. That, too, is great information. It brings us further into the reality of the situation. And implies possible directions the process can take.
We are two people in the room. Two bodies in the room. I am not just paying attention to the client's body. I pay attention to my own embodiment, as well. I notice what it feels like to sit in my chair. I track my own breathing. Shifts in posture. The particular quality of my voice.
I might notice myself tightening. Pulling back. Or leaning forward. Feeling an urge to steer the conversation toward a result. That internal impulse may not just be about me. It may also tell me something about the relational pressure in the room.
My internal experience does not necessarily reveal what is happening inside the client. But it keeps me grounded in what is happening between us. We are always two embodied people, sitting in a room together.
This is where relationality and embodiment deepen each other. Remembering relationality prevents somatic work from becoming a subtle demand. A demand for the client to produce the "right" kind of internal experience.
We know that paying attention to embodiment gives the relationship far more dimensions to work with. But valuing the body does not give me a free pass on relationality. It still requires my full attention, right here, in what is happening between us. This is when embodied exploration can really begin.
If this is a way of working that resonates with you, and you want more hands-on practice with it, I run a training on it. See the link in the show notes.
Copyright 2026 ProactiveMindfulness.com. All rights reserved.
This is very much the case in trauma. But it's also the case in circumstances that are much less dramatic. Paying attention to a body felt sense allows us to process more deeply. Yeah, more deeply than using words alone.
So, now, we have this amazing tool for therapy, almost magical, the body. And we are very disoriented when it does not seem to work.
I'm going to give you an example.
In a session, I want to invite embodied awareness from the client.
I ask something like, "What do you feel right now?" Or, "Where do you feel that in your body?"
The client looks at me and says, "I do not know." Or, "Nothing special." Or, even, sometimes, "I do not feel anything."
In that moment, I may think that the client is resistant. Uncooperative. Simply not very good at getting in touch with their body.
I might notice a subtle frustration in myself. Or a quiet sense that we are no longer collaborating. It is as if a gap suddenly opened up in the room. A sense of distance between the client and me.
Over time, I have learned that distance is important clinical information. It is not telling me about a deficit in the client. It is telling me about what is happening between us, in that exact moment.
I'll backtrack a little bit.
Therapy is fundamentally relational. When the client does not have direct access to body awareness, my role is not to double down on technique.
That would be demanding that the client meet me where I am. My job is to build a bridge. A bridge that connects me to where the client actually is.
That's a relational perspective. When I shift to a relational perspective, my emotional posture shifts. I become more aligned with the difficulty that the client is having. I remember that accessing internal bodily sensations is not always easy. Not always familiar. Not always tolerable.
It's not just that. There is often something more floating in the room, if only I, as the therapist, have the flexibility to become aware of it. There can be so many things behind an "I do not know."
It could be a simple, honest statement of what the client actually feels, or doesn't feel.. It could also be an anxious attempt to find the "right" answer. To perform well for me, the therapist. It could be a protective freeze response, where bringing attention inward feels overwhelming. Or who knows what else.
That "I do not know" is not an obstacle blocking the road. It may be more like the tip of an iceberg. Hinting at so much more, below the surface.
This brings me right back to what I love to do. Exploring with the client what is present but not yet visible. For that, I need to stay connected with them, right where they
This perspective also changes how I think about embodiment. It is not something I have to make happen.
Experience is embodied, whether or not we consciously register it as sensation. A client may not identify a feeling in their chest, or their stomach. But embodiment is still fully present.
It shows up in body language. Facial expressions. Posture. Muscular tension. Micro-movements. Breathing patterns. The changing quality and rhythm of speech. All of it is there for me to notice. If only I pay attention, instead of feeling that we have hit a wall.
Noticing what is happening bodily does not give me a diagnostic reading of the client's internal world. I do not assume a tightened jaw means the client is anxious. Or holding back anger. But what I observe gives me a concrete entry point. An entry point for more exploration.
From there, something becomes possible.
I no longer need to focus on "Where do you feel it." Or search for a better somatic question. I now have something to start with, based on what I observed.
I might say, "I notice your shoulders just came up toward your ears. What is happening right now?" Or, "I noticed you became very still just now. Did you notice that?" Or, "I notice we both just took a deep breath. Let us just sit here with that, for a second."
The goal is not to tell the client what they are feeling. The goal is to bring an observable detail into the shared relational space. So both of us can become curious about it together.
I am moving away from demanding an internal report. And moving toward exploring a shared observation.
There is no magic formula for turning an observation into an insightful comment. We are in an intersubjective space. What I have are informed guesses. Guesses, nonetheless. Not an answer. An entry point into a process.
The client is constantly giving me feedback. It could be a faint smile of relief, as we move from a stuck place. A smile that may not even be fully conscious.
It could be a slight wince. Some other sign that this is not going in a pleasant direction. That, too, is great information. It brings us further into the reality of the situation. And implies possible directions the process can take.
We are two people in the room. Two bodies in the room. I am not just paying attention to the client's body. I pay attention to my own embodiment, as well. I notice what it feels like to sit in my chair. I track my own breathing. Shifts in posture. The particular quality of my voice.
I might notice myself tightening. Pulling back. Or leaning forward. Feeling an urge to steer the conversation toward a result. That internal impulse may not just be about me. It may also tell me something about the relational pressure in the room.
My internal experience does not necessarily reveal what is happening inside the client. But it keeps me grounded in what is happening between us. We are always two embodied people, sitting in a room together.
This is where relationality and embodiment deepen each other. Remembering relationality prevents somatic work from becoming a subtle demand. A demand for the client to produce the "right" kind of internal experience.
We know that paying attention to embodiment gives the relationship far more dimensions to work with. But valuing the body does not give me a free pass on relationality. It still requires my full attention, right here, in what is happening between us. This is when embodied exploration can really begin.
If this is a way of working that resonates with you, and you want more hands-on practice with it, I run a training on it. See the link in the show notes.
Copyright 2026 ProactiveMindfulness.com. All rights reserved.
