The Body Holds What the Mind Tries to Forget

It carries the things we’ve moved too fast to feel, the truths we’ve pushed down, the parts of us that were never given space to speak.

Tight shoulders.

A clenched jaw.

A sudden wave of exhaustion.

These are rarely random.

They’re reminders—whispers from within.

In a world that values thought over feeling, it’s easy to become detached from the body.

To treat it as something to manage, fix, or control.

But the body is not a machine.

It’s a landscape.

And it speaks.

It remembers the pauses we didn’t take.

The things we never said.

The way we shaped ourselves to be acceptable—quiet, good, productive, agreeable.

The body keeps the score in the subtlest of ways:

A breath that never quite fills the lungs.

A tiredness that lingers.

A knowing that waits beneath the surface, asking to be honoured.

To live in rhythm with the body is not to master it.

It is to return.

To notice.

To listen.

There is a kind of healing that doesn’t come from doing more—but from doing less.

From slowing down enough to hear what’s already being said.

This isn’t about perfection.

It’s about presence.

The body doesn’t ask us to be healed.

Only to be here.

What is your body asking for in this moment?