When Bodies Decide

In 2020, in the midst of the pandemic lockdown and acutely aware of the collective trauma we were all experiencing in real time, I made the decision to get trauma certified. For a licensed therapist, getting trauma certified largely means learning to speak the language of the body—learning to discern between how the body speaks in situations of safety and how it speaks in situations of threat. Although I didn’t get much practice with this back then—since I seldom interacted with other humans—I’ve gotten plenty of it since then. 

And one of the most striking insights from my deepening somatic awareness is this: everywhere I go lately, I notice how our bodies seem to be coding each other as unsafe. I see how quickly we stiffen, turn away, or brace for impact in the presence of others. I notice how common it’s become to seek safety through dissociation, numbing, and hyper-individualization. 

We come by it honestly, of course. In a world that’s increasingly complex and feels persistently dangerous, our nervous systems do what they must do to cope. Turning inward, pulling away—it’s a safety-seeking behavior that’s become endemic to our culture. Modern life has trained us to view each other as threats. We’re conditioned to be suspicious, to prepare for battle, or to freeze and disconnect. 

While this response is understandable, it’s also tragic—because we’ve never needed to lean into each other more than we do now. Nobody can claim to have clear solutions for the many problems that plague our species. But I think it’s fair to say that no matter how we move forward, we’ll be far more successful if we do it together. We’ve never been more disconnected, yet we’ve never needed each other more. At a time when community care is essential, this tendency to tense up around each other is a barrier in the way of necessary change.

So, how do we correct course? How do we begin to turn back toward each other?

It starts with re-training our bodies. When our bodies can relax around one another, we can begin to engage. Get curious. Open up. Lean in. We can begin to see each other as safe rather than dangerous—as same rather than Other. This isn’t some flighty kumbaya fantasy; it’s fundamental to the changes our world needs. It’s a matter of survival. None of us are well until all of us are well. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Of course, we must acknowledge that for many people, hypervigilance isn’t just a conditioned habit; it’s a justified response. Marginalized communities, those who have experienced oppression or violence, people whose bodies have been historically targeted—their nervous systems may be accurately reading real danger in certain contexts. The work of collective healing requires both individual nervous system regulation and the dismantling of systems that make some bodies genuinely unsafe. We need both personal practice and structural change. And change in both of those directions starts at the same point. 

It starts with each of us being with our own bodies in ways that create the conditions for connection. And it starts very simply. When you’re around other people, practice breathing into your belly; dropping your shoulders; releasing your jaw; opening and relaxing your hands; feeling your feet on the ground. Feel your chest open, like your body is ready to face the world and welcome connection. Look up. Look around. Make eye contact. Smile.

Just as our distrust and disconnection start in the body, so does the opposite. As each of us comes into deep presence with our own bodies, we start creating the conditions for us to be deeply present with each other. And with that, we begin turning the tide—toward healing, toward connection, toward walking forward together.

 

Facing Our Shadows, Finding Ourselves

In the early 1900s, psychoanalyst Carl Jung introduced an idea that has since become central to our modern understanding of human psychology: the shadow. According to Jung, the shadow represents the parts of ourselves we are unwilling to look at, own, or accept. It consists of unconscious material that holds the darkest aspects of who we are, while also containing a form of intelligence that can be highly beneficial and instructive as we navigate our lives.

As a therapist, the concept of the shadow is essential to the conversations I have every day. It works consistently behind the scenes in my mind, shaping how I understand the choices, struggles, and patterns my clients bring into our therapeutic conversations. And often, it shows up more overtly in our work together, as we deliberately explore shadow material to deepen their self-understanding and unravel ways of thinking and behaving that are no longer serving them.

On a personal level, shadow work has been a foundational part of my own self-inquiry and transformation. It has taken me on a decades-long journey of learning to shine light on my psychological blind spots and integrate the parts of myself I had suppressed, shunned, or cast into darkness. Through shadow work, I’ve learned to love myself in a fuller, truer way—and to move beyond the deep shame that once ruled my life and shaped my decisions.

As someone who regularly does this work and facilitates it for others, I can attest to both the power and the demands of shadow work. It requires emotional courage to face what has long been hidden from view. It takes strength to hold up the mirror and see the darkness that lives within. But the brave act of shining the light of awareness into the shadows can be profoundly transformative. Among many things, shadow work can help us:

  • Become more self-aware
  • Identify repressed emotions
  • Reveal unconscious beliefs
  • Reclaim disowned parts of ourselves
  • Tap into intuition and inner creativity
  • Break unhelpful patterns of thinking, behaving, and relating
  • Reduce inner conflict
  • Deepen our relationships
  • Expand our emotional capacity
  • Grow self-confidence and self-love
  • Integrate painful or traumatic past experiences

If the idea of shadow work intrigues you, you might begin by exploring a few questions like these:

  • What emotions do I have the hardest time sitting with?
  • What traits or qualities in others do I most strongly reject?
  • What do I have the hardest time forgiving myself for?
  • How would I rate my self-esteem, based on how I behave in my life and relationships?
  • What are my core values—and do my actions, relationships, and environment reflect them?

There are many ways to engage with your shadow. And now that shadow work has entered the mainstream, you’ll find no shortage of books, journals, and tools to support your exploration. Still, working with a therapist or guide can be invaluable—someone who can help you see what you might not be able to on your own. That’s how the shadow works, after all.

However you choose to begin, if you commit to this journey, you’ll discover not only clarity and growth—but also a deeper, more integrated version of yourself waiting on the other side.