What does it mean to be ‘in my body?’
We are in the wellness age of embodiment. Wellness practitioners (myself included) enthusiastically guide people out of their heads and ‘into their bodies’. It’s a worthwhile goal. Healing the rift of the mind body split, honouring the pulsating organic matter of our bodies rather turning our gaze to the skies for salvation. It’s important work, but does it go far enough?
Embodiment narrative tends to the inward looking, a solitary pursuit towards individual healing. Being in MY body. What even is ‘my body’? The muscle, organs and bone contained within the boundary of your skin? Your body contains 100 trillion microbial cells that are not human (1). The bacteria and fungi that live within your skin boundary means the more-that-human lives within you. Your body is not just yours, it’s habitat for a teeming ecosystem of co-dependent entities, ‘How well tricked we have been into ideas of solidity by the skin silhouettes we call the human self’ (2)
The boundary of what is ‘my body’ collapses when you look in, but also dissolves as you turn out. Our nervous systems developed with nature. We only function in relationship to kin and ecosystem. The sound of birdsong brings a sense of joy and wellbeing because it signals, subconsciously to our modern ears, the signal of a varied and thriving ecosystem. Nature is our ally in co-regulation and asks, is there even such thing a self-regulation? We can’t deep breath and hum our way into regulation when what we really need is to be held by community and land.
Embodiment then becomes a practice of connection. Dropping out of the mind, into the body, then dispersing out into the web of intraconnected ecology. Where did the boundary go? The water in our bodies once dripped though canopy of cloud forest, allowed a tomato to grow, lived in the body of a fish. The calcium and iron that make up our blood and bones were forges in the hearts of stars before the earth was born. Our body exists beyond place and time. We have been everywhere, been everything. Experiencing embodiment is to experience dissolving into connection, ‘embodiment is as vast as the vast body of the universe’ (3).
If we relinquish our edges, we maybe have to ease our grip on the idea that we are in control our bodies. The rhythms that live in our bodies are fractals of the whole. Our endocrine systems inextricably bind us to each other as they bind us to the sun and moon. The seasons live within us, as we shift at the equinox, denying the change in your body is denying your connection. Embodiment is living in rhythm, not against.
So as the idea of embodiment as a self-contained practice starts to creak and strain, do we also need to question the idea that becoming embodied is a warm, fuzzy, satisfying journey to calm? What if the realization that we are not separate from the world is actually terrifying? “We are not floating above this Earth. We are intimately, materially, metabolically linked with every plant, animal and ecology that is grappling with unimaginable pain and destruction” (3). However uncomfortable, it is facing the truth that there is only one health, we can’t be well individuals in a dysfunctional community on a sick planet.
So does modern embodiment practice go far enough? It seems not, we could think beyond the mind-body split and start healing the mind-body-community-earth-spirit split. We could think of the body as a fractal of the earthly and cosmic whole, so reframe embodiment as a collective, ecological and cosmic act. Maybe we don’t want to get back into our bodies at all, but our deeper, unrealised desire is to be remember our connection to everything.
If you’re interested in the porous edges of embodiment and ecology, you’re in the right place. If you’d like to join our events we’ll be sharing some new dates soon, here and on our Instagram. Happy Equinox friends.
Inspiration & Quotes
Alanna Collen, 10% Human
Sophie Strand, The Body is a Doorway
Joshua Schrei, The Emerald, Embodiment means being torn apart and flying away
