Therapy used to be called “the talking cure.” But we have learned that talking is not the only way experience makes itself known. Much of what we experience is beyond the reach of words and is expressed through the body.
This is very much the case in trauma. But, even in circumstances that are much less dramatic, we find that paying attention to a body felt sense allows us to process much more deeply than using words alone.
So, having found this amazing, almost magical tool, we are very discomfited when it doesn’t seem to work.
Where do you feel it in your body?
Let me give you an example. In a session, I want to invite embodied awareness, and I ask something like, “What do you feel right now?” or “Where do you feel that in your body?”
The client looks at me and says, “I don’t know.” Or: “Nothing special.” Or, sometimes: “I don’t feel anything.”
In that moment, it is easy for me to begin experiencing the client as resistant, uncooperative, or simply not very good at getting in touch with their body. I might notice a subtle frustration in myself, or a quiet sense that we are no longer collaborating. It’s as if there were suddenly a big gap opening up in the room, a sense of distance between the client and me.
The distance is information
Over time, I have learned that distance is important clinical information. It is not telling me about a deficit in the client; it is telling me about what is happening between us in that exact moment.
Therapy is fundamentally relational. When direct somatic access is unavailable, my role is not to double down on technique or demand that the client meet me where I think they should be. My job is to build a bridge that connects me to where the client actually is right now.
When I hold that relational perspective, my own emotional posture shifts. I become more aligned with the difficulty the client is having. It’s useful to remember that accessing internal bodily sensations is not always easy, familiar, or tolerable.
There’s often something more floating in the room, if only I as the therapist have the flexibility to become aware of it. There can be so many things behind an “I don’t know.”
Of course, it could just be a simple, honest statement of current experience. But it could also be an anxious attempt to find the “right” answer to perform well for the therapist. Or it could be a protective freeze response, where bringing attention inward feels overwhelming. Or, who knows what else?
So, that “I don’t know” is not an obstacle blocking the road. It may be more like the tip of an iceberg, hinting at the possible presence of so much more below the surface. This realization brings me right back to what I love to do: exploring with the client what is present but not necessarily visible yet. For that, I need to stay connected with them right where they are.
Embodiment is there even when we don’t feel it
Approaching things from this perspective also changes how I think about embodiment. It’s not something that I have to make happen.
Experience is embodied whether or not we consciously register it as an internal sensation. A client may not be able to identify a feeling in their chest or stomach, but embodiment is still fully present.
It shows up in body language, facial expressions, posture, muscular tension, micro-movements, breathing patterns, or the changing quality and rhythm of speech. All of these manifestations are there for me to notice, if only I pay attention to them instead of feeling that we have hit a wall.
Noticing what is happening bodily with the client does not give me a diagnostic reading of their internal world. I do not assume, for example, that a tightened jaw means the client is anxious or holding back anger. But what I observe gives me a concrete entry point for further exploration.
Building a relational bridge
And so, I no longer need to focus on “Where do you feel it?” or search for a better somatic question. I now have something to start with, based on what I observed.
I might say, “I notice your shoulders just came up toward your ears as you said that. What’s happening right now?” Or, if it’s my own breath that shifts, I might just say, “I notice we both just took a deep breath. Let’s sit with that for a second.”
The goal is not to tell the client what they are feeling. The goal is to bring an observable detail into the shared relational space so that both of us can become curious about it together. I am moving away from demanding an internal report and moving toward exploring a shared observation.
There is no magic formula for transforming such observations into insightful comments or questions. We are in an intersubjective space. What I have are informed guesses, but guesses nonetheless. They are not an answer, but an entry point into a process.
What do I have to guide me through this process of exploration? Remembering that the client is constantly giving me feedback. It could be just a faint smile of relief that we seem to be moving from a stuck place, and that faint smile may not even be fully conscious.
It could also be that what I notice is a slight wince, or some other indication that this is not going in a pleasant direction for the client. This, too, is great information, bringing us further into the reality of the situation, and implying possible directions that the process can take.
Two bodies in the room
We are two people in the room. Two bodies in the room. So I am not just paying attention to the client’s body. I pay attention to my own embodiment as well. I notice what it feels like for me to sit in my chair. I track my own breathing, shifts in posture, or the particular quality of my voice.
I might notice myself tightening, or pulling back, or leaning forward, or feeling an urge to steer the conversation toward a result. That internal impulse may not just be about me;it may also give me some information about the relational pressure in the room.
My internal experience does not reveal what is happening inside the client, but it keeps me grounded in what is occurring between us. We are always two embodied people sitting in a room together.
This is where relationality and embodiment deepen each other. Remembering relationality prevents somatic work from becoming a subtle demand for the client to produce the “right” kind of internal experience.
We now that paying attention to embodiment gives the relationship far more dimensions to work with. But valuing the body does not give me a free pass on relationality. It still requires my full attention, right here, in what is happening between us. This is when embodied exploration can really begin.
How this works in practice
I explore these relational and somatic dynamics in depth through my 6-month experiential training for clinicians: The Embodied & Relational Edge of Focusing-Oriented Therapy.
Each month combines conceptual self-study with live clinical practice and peer group sessions between meetings, ensuring this becomes a natural part of how you practice rather than just a theory you understand.
The small cohort meets monthly starting October 8, 2026. You can explore the full curriculum and application details on the course page.
Podcast: Download (9.4MB)
For more on this topic, see: When embodied experience is missing from somatic therapy.
