The body is a source of wisdom, and the mind plays an important role in interpreting and making sense of what the body communicates.
Somatic work, therefore, cannot simply be about getting out of the mind and into the body.
That reduction is both misleading and deeply disconnected from the complexity of trauma, integration, and human experience.
When we privilege the body over the mind, we risk creating further disconnection between two deeply integrated systems that rely on one another to support a healthy, regulated, and fulfilling life.
One of the things I find important about this conversation is how unintentionally we can create another hierarchy when we position the body as the only source of truth.
But the actual truth I believe is that the mind can’t be separate from our embodied experience.
Our thoughts, interpretations, memories, beliefs, and capacity for reflection are all part of how we experience the world. They influence how we understand what is happening both internally and externally.
The distinction is not between thinking and feeling. It's about having access to our experience without becoming so identified with one aspect of it that we lose access to the others.
When somatic fluency becomes another place we get stuck
This is where even those of us who are highly somatically fluent can get stuck.
For people who have been trained, or conditioned through wellness culture, to orient primarily toward sensation, and who have heightened sensitivity to their internal physiological responses, intentionally bringing awareness back to the mind can be incredibly revealing and healing.
It can uncover the narratives, beliefs, and interpretations operating beneath the surface of our nervous system patterns, including anxiety, unresolved loss, grief, and depression.
Sometimes, we become so accustomed to tracking our internal physiological responses that we overlook the role our thoughts, interpretations, and meaning-making play in shaping our experiences.
We can become highly attuned to what is happening in the body while remaining less curious about the narratives informing how we experience it.
Bringing the mind back into the conversation isn't about abandoning the body or intellectualising our way through difficult experiences. It's about recognising that our cognitive processes are also part of our embodied experience, and that understanding them can open up another layer of awareness.
When the body doesn't feel like a safe place
Another important consideration in trauma work is that not everyone experiences their body as a safe place.
For some people, turning their attention inward can initially increase distress. Sensations may be associated with memories of helplessness, violation, panic, or overwhelming emotional experiences.
In The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel van der Kolk explores how trauma can affect our relationship with bodily sensations, emotional regulation, memory, and our ability to experience safety. His work on trauma-sensitive yoga and other body-oriented approaches highlights the importance of helping people develop a greater sense of safety and agency within their bodies.
This means that simply instructing someone to get out of their head and into their body can be unhelpful and, at times, overwhelming.
The work I do with many of my clients is to establish enough safety, choice, and regulation within our relational dynamic to gradually approach their internal experiences.
And yes, sometimes the mind provides an important entry point. Often, actually.
Language, psychoeducation, understanding attachment patterns, identifying beliefs, and making sense of relational experiences can help someone orient themselves before exploring what is happening somatically.
Sometimes, developing an understanding of what is happening cognitively is precisely what creates enough safety to begin exploring what is happening within the body.
Bringing the whole person into the work
I think we need to move beyond the idea that somatic therapy is about prioritizing the body over the mind.
The body provides information. The mind helps us interpret and contextualise that information. Our lived experiences, relationships, environment, and capacity for reflection all contribute to how we make sense of ourselves.
There is no universal sequence, formula, or single entry point that applies to everyone.
Sometimes the work is about coming into the body.
Sometimes it's about creating enough cognitive understanding to approach the body without becoming overwhelmed.
Sometimes it's about slowing down a thought, questioning an interpretation, or recognising a familiar attachment response.
And sometimes it's about allowing the body to communicate something that the person hasn't yet found the words for.
It's about developing a relationship with the whole self, where the body and mind are no longer working in isolation from one another.
When we stop positioning the body and mind against each other, we create more room for integration. The work becomes less about choosing where to direct our attention and more about developing the capacity to listen to the whole of our experience.
How this informs the work I do
I will never tell you that you need to feel more of yourself, move deeper into your body, stop overthinking, or simply get out of your head.
Maybe I did more of that when I first started this work, but my understanding has evolved.
At the beginning of my practice, I made a promise to myself that I would get in front of as many clients as I could. I believed that repetition, experience, and time in the room were what would help me become better at what I do. I was open to feedback, mistakes, and learning through the process. I still am.
I think that willingness to keep questioning, refining, and expanding my understanding is an important part of being a practitioner.
And this is where my work becomes deeply individualised.
I'm not a one-way kind of gal. I ebb and flow. It comes from a shadow aspect of me that once said, "Who do you need me to be, and I'll be that?" I've just learned to use that adaptability in a way that nourishes rather than depletes me.
My work is personal, relational, and attuned to the individual in front of me. I draw from different frameworks and approaches, and sometimes I don't rely on a framework at all. It depends on the body, heart, and mind in the room with me.
I'm interested in understanding the whole person: their relational history, nervous system responses, cognitive patterns, protective strategies, embodied experiences, and the ways all of these aspects interact.
I don't want to teach you to listen to one part of yourself at the expense of another. I want to help you develop a relationship with all of yourself.
There is no single direction I believe everyone needs to move in to experience healing. I love group work and sometimes wish I did more of it, but it's also why 1:1 work will always be at the heart of my offerings. It gives us the space to slow down, get curious, and respond to what is actually happening between us, rather than following a predetermined sequence of what healing should look like.
Because ultimately, healing isn't about becoming more connected to your body at the expense of your mind, or more connected to your mind at the expense of your body. It's about having the capacity to draw from both, and allowing the whole of you to participate in our sessions together.
