The Shape of Experience: How the Body Can Rewrite Our Difficult Past

Something I find incredibly fascinating in somatic work is what happens when we get curious and aware to the shapes the body takes, telling its story.

People usually think about their experiences through the narrative: what happened, how it felt, the story with beginning, middle and end, and they tell the same narrative pretty much each time similarly.

But the body is forming its own landscape. The shoulders draw in. The breath turns shallow. The eyes lower. Sometimes we barely notice these shifts because they have been so familiar. They have become part of the way we tell our story.

And this is where things get interesting. What if we can introduce a new way of experiencing ourselves by working with our shapes, raising awareness to how stories are held in the body, and reshaping and redefining ourselves, through awareness, breath, posture, how we carry ourselves, our expressions and nuances in the body.

Dynamic Integration in the Somatic Experience The outcome of the somatic process is not changing the story, instead looking at it through a different lens and retrieving more details, some of which can be resourceful, supportive and empowering. Exploring our shapes through somatic lens allows us to see more than we thought was there.

I particularly like the 'sand dune' metaphor. The dune is built by the elements, layer upon layer. Wind carries sand. The landscape shifts. As the dune takes shape, part of it collapse, but soon a new layer gradually form stronger, more stable. And as the dune rises and small parts give way, it grows solid and eventually gets covered in flora and life.

That image really helps when it comes to visualising what resilience may look like. As we go into a somatic self-enquiry we tap in and build up our resources and gifts. As we go deeper into a process of change we could experience what may at first feel like a collapse, but its only short-lived, because this where other parts come in. The resilient parts we have been building over time: experiences, relationships, skills, resources. When we are challenged or over activated, areas in the mind go offline and we can become overwhelmed by the part that got affected. We may even lose sight and awareness to the resilient parts that continue to hold. In a reactive state we may experience parts in the body that hold or contract, our posture could slump, our breath could be shallow. But along with self-growth and expansion it is the gifted parts that make the mass of the dune. As we become more aware of our protective parts, we can relax them, and we can do so through unwinding and restoring shapes that no longer serve in their current expression.

In integrative somatic counselling, I am interested in how we begin to sense our parts and layers. What regulates us to feel supported enough to be with the difficult place? Where can we find ground while naming what hurts? then tap into the raw place and still go through it with a sense of safety and witnessing, resourced and regulated. Changing the Shape of Mind

I remember exploring feelings about my parents getting older. We live in different continents, and for some time I've been carrying a kind of anxiety that one day I might have to drop everything I had built to go back and care for them.

Of course this story is about love, responsibility and belonging. I would do anything for them. But along with this knowing, I still felt a heavier element, like it would all fall on my shoulders. Like I would have to say goodbye to my friends, my life and leave back to the place I'd chose to leave in the first place. It felt complex and scary. My attention kept returning to what I might lose and whether I could manage it all. The future began to feel like something already pressing against my chest.

When I stayed with the felt sense of it, from the heaviness in the chest, an image appeared: clouds gathering into rain clouds, a heavy storm. I stayed with the image and my breath, just observing and keeping it company, There I felt my shallow breath, my slumped spine and the tightness in my neck. When I was guided to place awareness and the breath and the subtle movements of chest and spine with each inhale and exhale, I began to want to change the posture, release the tension. And through exploring breath and movement sequences I could change the shape of how that story was held in my body. Then the rain began to fall from the storm clouds and washed through my anxiety. As it cleared, I began to see things that were already there: my siblings, other family, friends, and the resources my parents themselves have around them.

None of that took away my care. It did not answer every practical question or remove the uncertainty of all of this. But I realised I wasn't on my own, that responsibility was shared within a wider network of relationships. There were other people, other capacities, other possibilities.

The facts had not changed. The position I was looking from had shifted.

This is what I mean by resourcing. A resource is something we can connect with that offers a sense of support, steadiness or space to breathe. It may be a person, a place, a memory, an object, a sensation or an image. Sometimes its just simple: the warmth of sunshine on our face, the familiar laughter of a close friend, the feeling of an armchair holding you cozy and safe.

For me, nature often appears. I think of my great grandfather gardening, a long beach, or a tree standing on a green hill. These images have a quality I can feel. They offer a place to rest my mind.

What interests me is what happens when we allow that resource to become embodied. If I imagine the tree, how does my body respond? Perhaps my feet settle differently. My spine finds some length. My breathing changes, and my gaze lifts. I might sense the tree roots as a reminder of contact with the ground, or its branches as permission to take up space.

Someone else may feel supported by curling up, wrapping themselves in a blanket, or bringing a hand to their chest and placing it there.

From the embodied exploration of resources and new shapes, we can approach our raw material and notice what becomes possible. Sometimes a new detail comes into view. A person who helped. A moment of resistance. Anger that had little room for expression. Or the simple recognition: here I am now, with new capacities I did not have them.

I hold these discoveries with curiosity. An image or sensation can carry personal meaning without being a literal record of an event. We can explore what it brings to the present without assuming it proves something about the past.

For me, this work is about meeting the story with the body and our resources. A younger version of ourselves may have had few choices. Now we can find voice, a boundary, a supportive relationship, or the ability to make decisions that support change. Feeling those possibilities can change how we relate to what we have lived through, our past experiences.

There is also something valuable in noticing the movements that arise before we have words for them. A hand wants to push away. The head turns towards the door. The shoulders want to soften, or the feet want to move.

We might gently explore a small amount of that movement and pause. How does it feel? Does it offer more choice, or does it feel too much? The response guides the next step. Sometimes the useful movement is simply orienting ourselves while feeling grounded.

In the somatic process we explore posture, movement and orientation alongside focusing on felt sensations as well as talk. They give us additional ways of listening. A story that feels fixed in words may have other qualities when we notice our surroundings, change position, or experience support while speaking.

Over time, we can become more familiar with these choices. We might notice ourselves drawing inward during a difficult conversation and remember that we can feel the chair beneath us. We might recognise a tightening chest and take a moment to look around before deciding what to say.

These are small experiences, but they can become part of daily life. The practice extends into how we meet a demanding day, ask for help, or acknowledge that sometimes it feels too much. We begin to recognise our own signals with more autonomy.

I also think about the difference between finding support and expecting ourselves to feel better immediately. A resource does not have to make the discomfort disappear to be useful. We may still feel sadness while sensing warmth in our belly. We may still feel worried while noticing that someone is beside us. Both experiences can belong in the same moment. This can be a gentle way of widening our attention, allowing difficulty to sit within a landscape that has resourced parts. We can move towards what is challenging, then return to steadiness. Having those choices gives us room to participate in the exploration, to recognise our limits, and to discover what feels possible without having to push ourselves into regions we are not ready for.

An Authentic Connection and Supportive Space to Explore In my Integrative somatic counselling sessions, clients are supported to find space to notice and reflect. We explore through conversation, sensing how certain content feels in the body, focusing and interception techniques, somatic practices, sharing views, discussing ideas and practicing resourcing and nervous system regulation, along movement, core awareness and grounding.

My clients can see me one-on-one in Fremantle and online via Zoom. My Perth location is 130 Hampton Rd, Femantle WA www.elijahforest.com Expand. Thrive.