Language is not native to the body.
Ah, the irony of words in sharing this knowing!
We evolved spoken communication to heighten the visceral, energetic sensation of being alive, enhancing the electric spark by creating ionic points in the pure etheric flow through which experiences can be conducted and expanded.
In further evolution, our grown insecurity of being misunderstood compels us to bind the fluidity and kill the essence of what we are expressing. To a degree, we do this on purpose. We grapple for the sterilizing precision that will lock our ineffable, subjective experience into an indisputable, objective one that cannot be misinterpreted by a listener. It is hope constantly dashed because the “solid” particle of an idea is an abstract that is always available to interpretation via innumerable connotations independent of the speaker’s intent.
But you keep trying. Strangle holding the energy of your feelings in the effort to understand and be understood.
Instead of letting it flow.
It is petrifying.
A named thing is a tamed thing is a claimed thing. It is also a caged and a killed thing.
This is the reason the first popularly lauded step in managing emotions and other body sensations is to name them - freeze them in place so they can be captured, dissected and culled.
When the feeling is dead, no longer responsive and dynamic, it is no longer threatening. Or so is the desperate hope.
The actual outcome: reversing the cycle of creation by endeavouring to stifle the bad-wrong-uncomfortable within you, effectively creating zombies that respawn in ever larger, ever generalizing iterations. Rather than fully feel the moment and then expound it into words, you name the sensation based on the first few tingles, calling them what you expect. Depressed - instead of tired. Afraid - instead of excited. Uncertain - instead of exploring possibilities. Repetition of the remembered past that defies growth through continual neuronal access. More pain. More confusion. More lack. More suffering. Artifacts of our past selves holding perpetual relevance - approximating quantum calculations on an abacus, attempting “Starry Night” in cuneiform.
It is a spiral that inspires more of the same as you further and forever and fruitlessly convince yourself that understanding is the key to changing your life. That there can be no correcting course without intense, unrelenting analysis.
It is the healing cycle: a labyrinth dressed as freedom, full of shiny, illusory allure.
Antithesis to Wholeness.
The answer you seek lies in Poetry, a nonsense that makes sense and allows visceral, energetic, true meaning to blaze through and be Felt, requiring no immediate understanding.
The answer rests in Movement unlimited by anticipated forms.
The answer is in reconnecting to Vocalization without obsessive verbalization.
It is in allowing the amorphis to remain in intangible, highly sensational flow without the judgemental attachment that disconnects you from the full range of your experiences, makes them other, and marks a schism between what “is” and what “should be” in your bodymind.
Pain is mistranslated pleasure. What you want, you have. You are already Whole.
Here is where you step into a new experience beyond your comprehension - an experience of You.
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