Body-based therapies and treatments come in many forms—each valuable in its own way—so I want to clarify the role of the body in my therapeutic work. This is not a body treatment based on massage or other forms of touch, nor does it focus on movement in the same way as, for example, dance or movement therapy. So, what does it mean to incorporate the body as part of therapy that is fundamentally also conversational?
Sensing the body amidst words
Most visibly, I incorporate the body by periodically pausing to tune into bodily sensations: the state of the body when we are focused on a particular topic, the messages that arise from the body, how we are present in our bodies, or how we might disconnect from them. As I previously wrote, sensing the body opens essential pathways in therapy for things to come to the surface and shift.
On the other hand, there is also space for “more classical therapy”: sharing experiences and making sense of things through conversation. What can be achieved through talking alone often has its limits – but when we remember to involve the body, talking can also have great value. We can explore and notice things. We can find words for something within and allow it to be seen. There is the opportunity to share one’s inner world, to be met not both on the level of speech and through what is conveyed nonverbally.
Therapy is typically quite long-term and regular. In this way, a gradually deepening relationship is formed, offering safety and trust. Regular meetings create a space for things to begin to surface. There is time for things to gradually open up and shift. I get to know your situation and your inner world – also through conversation. We embark on a journey of exploring them together.
The living body is welcome to be present
In addition to occasionally tuning into bodily sensations, I find it essential that the living body is allowed to be present in therapy. Embodiment is included. There is space to be fully in one’s body, and permission for bodily movements, gestures, and expressions – as well as a permission not to move. If wished, there is also room for more lively use of voice, though within certain limits, so as not to badly shock those in adjacent rooms.
Embodiment is also present in the permission to explore what might be needed in the moment. Might it feel better to sit farther away or closer? To ask me to turn so that I am not looking directly at you? To curl up in a comfortable position, pull a blanket over yourself, or hug yourself? Often in therapy, it works best to sit facing each other in armchairs, but there is of course also the permission to sit or even lie down on the floor. Or to stand up, feel the body in that posture, and perhaps make space for even larger movements.
I have learned to trust a lot in what arises naturally from the body. It can be beneficial to give space for the body to find its own posture or to follow the movement impulses that emerge from it. The body somehow knows how to get forward. It could be helpful to place a hand on one’s own chest to offer warmth. Sometimes the body might need to shake. Sometimes there is a need to express something more strongly, to take up more space to be fully in yourself. At other times, one could experiment more deliberately: What if I give small movement to a part of the body that feels frozen in place? Or if I notice the body wants to collapse, what if I let it do so? Or if I try to straighten up, what happens then?
A crucial ingredient in embodiment is presence. It involves sensing what is happening in the body, what arises from it, and staying present to experience what happens if, for example, one makes a movement. Sometimes it is important just to let go, give space, and throw control out the window. Often, however, even a small, slow, and consciously performed movement can be quite significant. For instance, if feeling in the body that one wants to push something away, just imagining that movement or making a single slow and precise push, sensing with presence, might bring about greater internal shifts than vigorous thrashing. I experienced this firsthand a few years ago while recovering from a broken wrist.
About touch
Although this is not bodywork, touch is not entirely ruled out in therapy. For many people, it may work best to do therapy completely without touch. For some, it could be helpful to occasionally give some space for it, too. Touch is a part of being human and having a body. Sometimes contact with another person, e.g. holding hands, can provide the needed support to stay present in the moment. A possibility could also be, for example, to explore what it is like to perform a pushing movement when another person provides resistance. If touch is ever incorporated, it is always deliberated and agreed upon together. At each moment, it is important to ensure what feels right.
This was the last one of my three writings about embodiment in therapy. Read also the other two:
Embodiment in therapy – Part 1: Sensing into the body
Embodiment in therapy – Part 2: The significance of the body