Sensation — The Language of the Body
For a long time, I was disconnected from my body.
I had found that sensation had become too much for me to experience. I didn’t have the tools to understand what I was feeling, or the language to name it. So I did what many of us do: I tuned out. I lived in my head. I tried to manage, interpret, and override what was happening inside me.
But the body never stops speaking, even if you stop listening.
I remember the moment when I could no longer ignore it, it was like my body was waving a big red flag. At the time, I didn’t know I was pregnant, but I knew something inside me had shifted. I felt it—not in thought, but in an unmistakable sensation: a flood of fear, pain, and death. I kept losing consciousness, unable to explain why, until I learned that my unborn child no longer had a heartbeat.
It wasn’t just physical pain I was feeling—it was something deeper. Pain that wasn’t entirely mine. Of course, it was medically classified as a missed miscarriage. My body had become a tomb, a place where death lay quietly. And I was told I have a “deeply sensitive vagus nerve” when I demanded to know why I lost consciousness repeatedly during what was supposed to be a quiet, unassuming experience.
In the aftermath, I realized I had not only been feeling my own body’s messages—I had been absorbing the energy from others my entire life. What I once dismissed as hypersensitivity was actually an innate form of communication.
This is the wisdom of sensation.
What Is Sensation, Really?
We often think of sensation as something strictly physical—pressure, pain, temperature, touch, but sensation is more than a biological process. It is the first language we learn. The most primal form of communication our body offers us and often, the one we are taught to ignore.
From the moment we are born, our bodies begin translating the world around us: warmth means safety, hunger signals need, and touch becomes either comfort or harm. These early sensations teach us how to respond, how to relate, and how to survive in the world around us.
But as we grow older, we’re taught to override these cues:
“Calm down.”
“You’re too sensitive.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“You’re overreacting.”
Over time, we learn to question our own signals. We begin to mistrust our bodies. We stop noticing the subtle tension in our chest before anxiety spirals. We ignore the tightness in our stomach around certain people. We live from the neck up—until something breaks.
Eventually, we lose fluency in the very language we were born speaking.
The Consequences of Disconnection
When we silence the body, we don’t just quiet the messages—we lose a vital source of guidance. We stop noticing the tension in our jaw during bouts of grief or just before anger rises (TMJ anyone?). We ignore the constriction in our chest before anxiety spirals. We miss the subtle pulse of discomfort when we’re in unsafe environments.
The body holds what we don’t process and often the pressure becomes too much to bear, and the body will scream at us with illness and injury because we’ve ignored it for too long.
Sensation as a Sacred Messenger
Sensation hums beneath every experience. It’s always offering us real-time information about how we are doing in relation to the world around us.
It tells us when we are grounded—or unmoored.
When we are in harmony—or in conflict.
When we need to rest, to move, to pause, or to protect.
Sensation is the body’s way of saying: “Pay attention. Be present.”
When we listen to our sensations, we learn to let go of the need to control the body and begin to return to relationship with it. We begin to see the body an instrument of sacred knowing.
Relearning How to Listen
You don’t need to reconnect to your body and its sensations through grand rituals or exhaustive practices, it begins with simple noticing.
Try asking yourself:
Where does my body tighten when I’m overwhelmed?
What happens to my breath when I feel safe?
What is this sensation trying to tell me—without words?
What does this room feel like to me?
What do I feel in my body right now?
It is easy to overthink this, try not to worry about analysis or getting this right or wrong. You are attuning to presence and a message. If a message doesn’t come, don’t force it, but if there is a message—however subtle—slow down, take note, and be aware and present.
When we begin to listen—not just occasionally, but consistently—we realize the body is trying to protect us and help us navigate an uncertain world with a bit more clarity.
A Final Note on Coherence
The language of sensation may seem abstract to some, but it’s physical, emotional, and spiritual all at once. And when we allow it to speak, it softens us into coherence with ourselves, with others, and with the world around us. It returns us to the present moment, where the body no longer has to scream to be heard.
Because your body has always known, this is about more than survival, this has always been about connection.
Up next: Feeling – The Language of Relationship
The energy between you and the world.