We often wish that something within ourselves—or in our way of being—would change. We struggle with difficult feelings, or we notice that we are stuck in patterns that only make things harder. What could help in such a situation?
When we look at our inner world—supported by therapy or otherwise—we easily approach it like engineers solving a technical problem. We aim for change and look for the right methods and suitable steps to get there. We are used to doing, setting goals, and making plans, and this tendency carries over into how we relate to our inner life.
This can be useful up to a point, depending on the methods we find. Often, though, trying to force change—or to plan it in detail—does not really work. The inner world is complex, and it is not easy to know which steps would actually lead to change. Trying to alter something within ourselves, pushing something away, also easily creates an internal battleground.
In my experience, things often begin to open up precisely when we do not try to produce change. This creates more space for what may naturally begin to happen from within. This emphasis runs through much of my work, and I have referred to it in several earlier writings. Now I want to explore the topic more deeply.
Space for natural movements
Letting go of the attempt to change things is central to Focusing, a method close to my heart, in which we allow bodily felt senses to speak about our lives. In Focusing, what matters is the way we are present with our inner world. We meet everything that emerges from bodily sensations with warmth and curiosity. We remain open to hearing more, without trying to change anything. Of course, the desire to push something away or find solutions may sneak in. When that happens, we can notice this desire within us and be present with it as well, in the same warm and curious way.
This kind of presence at the level of bodily felt experience can begin to open many things. We gain new understanding, there is a feeling of fresh air, something inside loosens, and things often also change. A presence that does not try to change anything creates space for things to move in their own way and at their own pace. Often, the steps of change that arise from within are so unexpected that they could not have been planned in advance. It may even have felt as if there was no solution to the inner knot, yet somehow it begins to unravel.
A similar kind of “magic” seems to be present in creative movement. We listen to the body and allow space for something within to begin moving us—with music or without. The mind does not need to know or decide what to do, and all goals can be set aside. This creates space for what wants to emerge naturally from within. In my experience, such movement often affects my state of being far more profoundly than anything pre-planned or goal-oriented. Something may open and settle into place both in body and mind. Sometimes the body also seems able to process difficult experiences in its own way—for example, releasing something through trembling when this is simply allowed to happen.
There may be no exhaustive explanation for what these natural shifts are. One way to understand them is to think that there is some kind of inner wisdom in us—something that knows how to guide when given space. Perhaps humans have a natural direction toward growth, healing, and well-being. Eugene Gendlin, the developer of Focusing, might describe it by saying that all of life is a process. Change is the natural state, but sometimes something gets stuck. When we meet our experience with presence and without trying to change it, these stuck places may gradually loosen. Then the natural flow can begin to move again.
Why not try to force inner change?
Next, I will look more closely at why trying to force change can be problematic. One key question is from what inner place we approach change. It may be difficult for us to accept ourselves as we are, or to feel that we are okay in the eyes of others. Perhaps an inner voice pushes us to improve ourselves or become a “better version” of who we are. In that case, the real direction may not be change itself, but finding gentleness and giving ourselves permission to be as we are. It makes a difference whether the wish for change arises from self-criticism or from a genuine wish for our own well-being.
It may also be important to open up to accepting not only ourselves but also our experience—what is happening within us and how we feel. Often, it is precisely the inner struggle, the attempt to control or change experience, that contributes significantly to difficulty. A painful feeling may already be heavy on its own, but suffering is often increased by tightening around it, trying to push it away, or avoiding it. In meditation, for example, one may notice that when the inner struggle eases, things begin to feel lighter. Space opens up, and it becomes easier to be with what is present. Sometimes something surprising also happens: what we no longer try to change begins to change on its own.
The pursuit of change can also set different parts of us against each other. One part of me may want to be more courageous, but if I push myself in that direction, I may also be trying to get rid of the part that feels afraid. Instead of struggle, it may be more important to listen to all inner parts and allow them to be seen as they are.
Often we carry within us something we have never truly met—something no one else may have met with presence either. Most of us long primarily for others to truly listen and be present with us, rather than try to change who we are. We can offer the same to ourselves. When even the fearful part is listened to, something may begin to shift in its own way. Perhaps an inner timid child begins to feel safer, or steps toward courage emerge that do not feel like they are too much.
Inner change and trying in therapy
What should we think about attempting change in the context of therapy? In my therapeutic work, a central aspect is the kind of presence in which nothing needs to be pushed away and everything can be met as it is. In a sense, the quality of not trying to change anything is present in each moment. At the same time, therapy involves awareness of the challenges and of what one hopes to change. We can move toward what feels important and see whether the work supports that direction. I would describe my approach as one in which possibilities for change are opened in different ways, but change is not forced.
I find it especially valuable in therapy that space is left for natural movements—something that could not have been planned in advance. This space is created by attending to bodily felt experience and meeting it with presence. As in Focusing, directions may begin to arise from within. We are in a situation where neither of us knows in advance how things might open up. We sense, experiment, and tune into what is present right now. If the client wishes, we can also sometimes allow space for movement emerging from the body.
In my experience, it is often good also to allow the therapy process as a whole to find its own directions. What is ready to emerge or be met right now? What is coming to the surface through presence? What is important to stay with? My role is to follow, support, and sometimes intuit the directions the process seems to take. Meaningful directions may arise, for example, when the client pauses to sense what is present in them or where it feels right to begin. So there is no need to plan in advance, although of course it is also possible to simply say: “Today I want to talk about this.”
Sensing into natural directions does not mean therapy is only passive observation. I may also suggest themes, bring up topics, or temporarily guide attention in a certain direction. We may also think together about new ways of acting, explore setting boundaries, or wonder what might help the client to be safely present with themselves. These directions, too, usually arise from what feels alive in the moment rather than from a pre-made plan.
Regulating inner states—or not?
Although I have emphasized the importance of a presence that does not try to change anything, various methods for regulating one’s inner state are also important. It is good to find ways to calm oneself, direct attention toward something pleasant, or develop the ability to stay with difficult feelings without being overwhelmed by them. We can learn to be like a supportive adult presence to ourselves. For example, traumatic experiences are best approached in a way that also includes a sense of safety.
On the other hand, it is important to notice when regulating one’s inner state turns into a task. There may be fear that a certain state cannot be tolerated, or a need to get rid of something. In such moments, an important direction may be to pause and be present with what is, perhaps also with the part that is afraid of one’s inner states.
Regulating one’s inner state can also become almost automatic. When tension is noticed in the body, we immediately try to relax it. When breathing feels shallow, we instantly try to deepen it. It is good to have such skills, but sometimes it is equally important to stay with the experience as it is. There can be valuable messages in bodily states and sensations. They begin to open when we do not rush to control or change our experience.
It may also be good to notice the inner place from which regulation or attempts to change arise. My meditation teacher Jaya Ashmore uses the term “place of lack.” It is an inner state dominated by a sense of deficiency. It feels as if something absolutely has to be different in order for us to be okay—either we need to obtain something we do not have, or something needs to be pushed away. When we act from such a place, things easily become more difficult. There is often anxiety and a sense of compulsion, and the body tightens. There is no space left for anything to shift or move naturally.
Another kind of inner place might be like the way one might, half-asleep, adjust a pillow into a more comfortable position. The movement does not arise from anxiety or compulsion. It simply happens because something feels naturally right. In the same way, we can take care of ourselves—put on more clothing when cold, or use methods to regulate our inner state. The difference lies in the inner place from which we act. When action does not arise from lack or pressure, it tends to feel more fluid and free.
I have also noticed this difference in using movement to process emotions. If the starting point is an attempt to get rid of a difficult feeling, or the sense that one cannot tolerate it, movement rarely helps very deeply. The body may only tense further. Natural shifts arise more easily when one is present with what is, while also being open to whatever movement impulses arise from the experience itself. When, for example, the act of stamping one’s foot arises spontaneously from the feeling, it can feel far more appropriate and liberating than deliberately forcing the movement.
In conclusion
It is natural to wish for change, growth, and inner shifts. In many ways, being human is just that: continuous movement and transformation. It may be important to seek contexts that support change—whether in therapy or elsewhere. However, it is often beneficial to let go of the attempt to force change or the belief that we can precisely plan or produce it ourselves. Our inner world is a remarkable, complex whole, and gentle, spacious ways of meeting it are often the most fruitful.
There is something almost magical in a presence that does not try to change anything, and in openness to what gradually begins to emerge. Sometimes, precisely when we stop forcing things in a certain direction, something begins to move in its own way—from within.