The next dimension we need to become familiar with is the biological dimension of the human being, the body, since the entire perception of our existence unfolds in and through the body. (Perhaps with the exception of some out-of-body experiences.)
In contrast to emotions, modern medicine has provided us with considerable knowledge about the biological aspects of the body. The flip side is that we rely too heavily on external medical interventions, often forgetting to listen to body signals, including the most acute ones. Then we treat our body as an indestructible machine, and although it has a remarkable capacity for recovery, it nonetheless requires proper care to fully harness this potential. We need to know much more about our body, both to comprehend the general biological perspective and to cultivate individual awareness.
From a medical point of view, the toll of Western medicine’s analytical approach is the loss of a holistic perspective. We already possess so much knowledge about each organ, cell, and molecule that it is impossible for the human brain to retain all the connections. Consequently, we have experts in organs and parts of organs, yet we fail to see the forest for the trees. I still maintain that Western medicine is an amazing tool that explains the science behind the body’s most delicate mechanisms, verging on a revelation of miraculous processes. In practice, we need to zoom out from molecules, cells, organs, and even from the body itself to see the whole human being and approach it holistically. I am pleased to see Western medicine increasingly drawing inspiration from its Eastern counterpart, not only in theory or scientific experiments, but also in medical practice. I perceive that the complete formula for healing lies in integration.
Before we continue, we need to establish a framework for the body within a holistic, metaphysical model. In this context, the body is not merely a biological dimension of the human being, relentlessly used to fulfill our needs. It is a much more intricate, sensitive creation, part of an even more complex unity, while still under our management. It exists in the intimate interplay of mental, social, and spiritual dynamics. These dimensions are not separate. The status of one directly impacts all others, which is why their comprehensive integration is essential for overall quality of life. Ultimately, most expressions of all dimensions are manifested through the body.
Expressions
Similar to emotions, the language of the body is a direct, honest, primal form of communication. It is expressed through emotions and sensations, signs and symptoms, and definitely through actions – conscious, unconscious, and autonomic. Similar to emotions, body language is rooted in raw biology, the only way it can communicate in clear, physical terms, the easiest to understand... yet remains misunderstood. However, understanding the body is naturally more complicated, since it manifests itself while also serving as a channel for the mind and the spirit. It is an incredible system that constantly processes inputs from our internal and external worlds, while simultaneously serving as a transmitter for other dimensions. Moreover, it expresses the present situation, as well as stores and reveals implicit memory and unresolved issues.
I will briefly explain these body expressions in the context of this book and highlight the differences between them. We are already familiar with emotions. Sensations are broader than emotions, as emotions are expressed through sensations, but sensations encompass more than just emotions. They include all perceptions, such as tingling in fingers, hunger, pain, etc. Then there are symptoms, which include everything observed by a person, reaching beyond sensations to encompass sleeping patterns, breathing, or memory issues. Signs include everything that can be objectively observed or measured – body temperature, heart rate, etc. And actions include everything we do consciously (e.g., eating, talking), subconsciously (automatic behaviors), and autonomically (biological processes). These categories sometimes overlap. For example, walking can be conscious or subconscious, or breathing can be all three – conscious, subconscious, and autonomic.
It seems unbelievable that, given this complexity, instead of being overwhelmed by signals from the body, in reality we wake, feel tired, feel hungry, eat, and move through the day relying on nothing but a basic language pack. The constraint lies in our limited ability to process all the information in this Babylonian cacophony. Admittedly, I would expect that most of us have learned little more than the basic language, and that too we often ignore. The body is desperate to express at least the basic biological needs to ensure our survival, and while we are able to perceive and understand most signs and symptoms of various physical conditions and issues, already at this level we are mastering the art of neglecting them. Among bodily sensations, some are more noticeable, others, less so. As we move from simple signals like hunger to expressions of fatigue and onward to emotions, understanding usually becomes increasingly complicated, and with greater complexity, we tend to stop listening. As a result, the mind and, especially, the spirit are very often left unheard.
And so, we are often failing to listen. And if we do not listen, we cannot understand what the body is telling us. And therefore, we cannot take any stance on what is happening, and certainly we cannot act on it.
Listening and Understanding
The expressions of the body itself are quite straightforward and the easiest to understand, as they are the most obvious, observable and socially acceptable. Rarely does someone tell us that we are not hungry or tired. On the other hand, all too often, we do push our own bodily needs aside, insisting that it is not the “right time” to eat or sleep. As a result, we suppress our body’s expressions, and it learns to speak less – much like a friend who notices we are not listening. But if we are failing the simplest, basic, primal language of biological needs, we are cutting off the further, more subtle language of the mind and the spirit. We cannot hear whispers if we refuse to hear the shouting. I am not saying it is impossible, only that it is improbable and not in the natural sequence.
The mind’s more subtle language is mainly expressed through emotions. Already now, it is becoming rather chaotic, because if we fail to sensitively understand which signals belong to the body itself, the mind’s needs can be totally misinterpreted – thrown into the mess of bodily needs, where they inherently would not make any sense. If not understood at the subtle emotional level, the mind will begin communicating in a more intense physical manner – headaches, tight muscles, digestion issues.
Now, being untuned, interpreting everything as bodily issues – what we do: we go to a doctor and take pills. Simple, usually effective, and addictive with side effects – because we do not address the underlying cause; and whenever treatment stops, the consequences resurface.
I do not propose to suffer through headaches. I just think that even while taking pills, we should be able to distinguish the real source of the pain and solve it. To distinguish whether it is fatigue, stress, or whether we actually hit our head. But it is very difficult to untangle the mind’s voice if we do not first listen to the body and prioritize our biological needs (not always possible, but at least strive to follow them as much as we can). Only then can we distinguish the mind’s expressions and begin the next level of the language lesson.
And the poor spirit, where is the space for its voice. Well...
The body seems to be the final, overwhelmed destination, where everything funnels. To make it further complicated, all communication and influences flow both ways. The body affects the mind (we are tired, emotions take over), the body affects the spirit (difficult to meditate during acute back pain), the mind affects the body (stress expressed as headaches), the mind affects the spirit (desires create enslavement), the spirit affects the body (spiritual healing), the spirit affects the mind (profound spiritual peace). And in the end, each interaction and its outcome are ultimately expressed through the body alone.
As everything we can grasp and understand unfolds through the body – our life flows through the body, our mind is in the body, our spirit manifests through the body, even the social dimension is mirrored within the body – the body becomes the ultimate sanctuary to respect and love.
Here we return to the beginning of this chapter to listen to all the basic needs of our body, for it truly deserves our attention. We deserve it.
Listening is not a passive act. It requires conscious, deliberate turning inward, a commitment to honor the body’s messages as important and valid data. Listening first means that when fatigue descends, we do not push it away with caffeine (I love coffee). Instead, we get curious and we ask: “What is this feeling telling me?” Is it simple tiredness, or is it some deeper exhaustion? Is it actually related to the body, or is it the expression of an emotional drain or an unrecognized stressor? Or is it the spirit guiding me to lie down and listen?
Understanding requires us to become sensitive, connecting a physical sensation to its deeper source. As already mentioned, it starts with rigorously listening to bodily needs. It does not mean only the raw biological sensations, like hunger or thirst, but extends to the emotions that accompany these needs. It also means observing our signs and symptoms, so we see how our body naturally reacts in different inner or outer conditions – to distinguish them from situations when our body is under more serious stress, like the onset of illness. When we can distinguish them well (which should not be so difficult, but it requires discipline), we will be naturally ready to get more familiar with the mind.
The simplest technique I have used is asking questions and trying to find answers. Talking to my mind, understanding the message and then trying to act accordingly. At first it was pure trial and error, like a child learning a new language – starting with basic emotions and mind processes, later moving to deeper and more complex ones. Certainly, psychotherapy is a valuable tool; it is not necessary to learn this alone. And with increased sensitivity, the spirit started to whisper in its own language.
Acting
Ultimately, listening and understanding are meaningless without action. If we are able to treat the body’s language with respect, the only remaining step is dedication. The problem is that most of us are too lazy to properly care for themselves, having a terrible memory once the physical problem is resolved. I would recommend minimizing medical treatment, allowing the body to signal everything and following its guidance, even if uncomfortable or painful. (While ensuring necessary medications are not omitted!)
As I already said, we cannot progress if we cannot distinguish the basics of our body’s needs. So the baby steps might start with guilt-free rest whenever the body signals exhaustion. Or with pausing to understand when the signal is less clear – investigating and learning. It is a fundamental shift from a relationship of control to one of respect, trust, and proper gratitude, where the common question shifts from “How can I get rid of this feeling” to “I wonder what this feeling is telling me.” This is a rather radical and transformative approach to our body, inevitably requiring, at least in the beginning, considerable effort and focus.
On the other hand, the natural result is a move from being defensive, clueless victims of our bodies to becoming co-creators of our own experience. I believe this is worth the effort.
Bottom-up Methods
Many psychological and psychiatric issues can benefit from a guided engagement with bodily mechanisms and exercises. Caring for the body in ways that influence emotions and psychosomatic processes is referred to as the bottom-up method. Seemingly counterintuitive, it complements the top-down method, where the approach primarily engages the mind (such as psychotherapies or meditation). Especially under chronic stress of various origins, the body often keeps the entire system locked-in, making the somatic approach an essential part of effective healing – conceptualized as neuro-muscular system repair. Bottom-up methods utilize the possibility of boosting parasympathetic tone through engagement of the vagus nerve – the main parasympathetic nerve. It runs from the brainstem, passes around the vocal cords, down through the chest and diaphragm, and reaches the abdomen, facilitating the relaxation – “rest and digest” – state of the body. They further deepen embodiment and increase interoceptive safety.
For me, the most effective (and easy) practice is breathing with extended exhalation. It can be connected to meditation, yet it is also easily applied – and indeed beneficial to focus on – throughout the day. Keeping a smooth breath into the belly with passive, slow exhalation not only calms me and provides a grounding effect, but also helps me soothe pain (especially tension headaches). Another method is humming – the vibration of the vocal cords (imagine “Om”) – which activates the vagus nerve, while sharpening the sense of the body’s internal state. Singing, especially prolonged notes, has a similar effect. I am also an enthusiast of meditation (there will be a whole chapter about meditation) and yoga.
Yoga and other exercises not only help maintain high endorphin levels and provide grounding; we also need a healthy body to approach ourselves holistically. Starting regular exercise was recently the last missing piece of the puzzle my body was craving – after a year primarily engaged in internal dynamics. Not to mention performing all daily necessities with sacred pleasure – eating, showering, even drinking water – and sensing how the body absorbs the beauty of our caring. I already mentioned it, and I mean it – the body is the sacred temple of the spirit. I am certain that willingly neglecting our body is equivalent to willingly harming someone. Much as we distinguish between active and passive abuse, this would represent the passive one.
Healing
While the body is one of the arbiters of our general capacities and life pace, it also serves as a precise barometer of the healing journey. I never realized how vast the variety of feelings, sensations, body signals, and possible changes was until last year. I had days of dozens of flashbacks, I had weeks of constant, releasing yawns, I sighed so deeply I never thought it could be such a pleasure. I experienced weeks of whole-body electric shocks, random muscle tics, and waking up laughing – all functioning as a discharge mechanism for accumulated nervous energy. For the first time in my life, I have proper digestion, I can breathe smoothly and so deeply that the very tension in the chest (the feeling of “the potato in the chest”) dissolves, I wake up early in the morning refreshed, without the need for afternoon naps, and I can laugh spontaneously. These are all the body’s positive indicators that the mind is finding a place where it can finally let go.
For most of my life, I was functionally deaf to the language of my body. I am a perfect case study of what happens when the body’s signals are overridden. For fourteen years, a suffocating pressure was a permanent resident in my chest, absurdly accepted because I never made space to consider it. For years, a tense constriction in my insides was a ludicrous daily reality. These were not subtle whispers of the body – these were screams. And yet, I did not listen. I became an expert in humanitarian aid, in medicine, in analyzing complex external systems, yet I was an absolute simpleton in understanding my own. I traded extreme stress in one environment for another – from humanitarian fields to grueling medical studies, I responded to chronic fatigue and heart issues with another deployment, another project, another layer of pressure. The result was not strength or resilience, but a complete and inevitable neurological collapse.
My healing only began when I was finally nailed to my bed, literally paralyzed, and had no choice but to listen to the body I had ignored for forty-four years. The journey of understanding myself has been slow. As much as I am impatient, it now serves no purpose, since the pace is conducted solely by the capacities of my body. It has been a precious process of learning, word by word, the language each of us is meant to master, but which is systematically taught to be ignored. It is a language of truth, and listening to it is the ultimate act of coming back to ourselves.