We think we are meditating.
We sit. We breathe. We scan the body.
We say we are “feeling.”
But often, we are not.
What we are doing, ironically, is not meditation.
Not in the truest sense.
Not if meditation means contacting what is, as it is, without veils.
Not if it means presence in and through the body.
Because here’s the hard truth:
You can sit for hours a day, years on end,
and never once feel your body.
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The Cortex Can’t Touch the Flesh
In states of freeze, collapse, or unresolved shock, the body becomes something like a distant planet — visible through a telescope of attention, but never landed on. The nervous system, wise in its survival strategies, keeps us hovering in orbit.
So we think we are “sensing.”
We label: warmth, tingling, breath.
We track: spine, chest, feet.
But all too often, what we’re sensing is a map. A memory. A model.
The cortex lights up with activity, but the deeper subcortical systems — the places that are the body — remain untouched.
The pelvis, the gut, the throat — they may be noticed, but they are not felt.
Not metabolically. Not in the alive, vulnerable way that only true presence reveals.
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Why This Happens: The Freeze Filter
If you’ve experienced trauma (and who hasn’t?), your system may have learned that feeling too much is unsafe. So when you sit down to meditate, a filter quietly slides in: the freeze state.
In freeze:
• Stillness is not groundedness — it’s bracing without movement.
• Silence is not peace — it’s absence.
• Spaciousness is not openness — it’s detachment.
And yet… it looks like meditation.
It feels “calm.”
It passes as spiritual.
It even gets praised.
But it’s a bypass.
Not because of bad intention, but because of protective intelligence.
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Meditation or Mentalization?
Here’s the paradox: the very practice meant to deepen embodiment may reinforce disembodiment if we’re not careful.
This is what I’ve come to call mentalized meditation:
The body is named, but not known.
The breath is watched, but not welcomed.
The pain is “observed,” but never metabolized.
It’s all presence in name, but distance in practice.
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When Sensing Becomes Real
So what’s different when the body is truly felt?
It’s not always peaceful.
It’s not always pretty.
Sometimes the belly tightens with sadness,
the heart flutters with memory,
the jaw trembles with something unsaid.
The ground comes alive beneath you.
Weight returns.
You might cry.
You might shiver.
You might want to run.
This is not a mistake.
This is meditation.
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Work with a Guide (Maybe)
Sometimes, it’s too much to feel alone.
Relational co-regulation — being with someone who can be with you — can unlock what solitude keeps hidden.
A good guide doesn’t lead you away from yourself, but gently orients you toward what’s already there.
Not as an authority. Not with answers.
But as a presence that helps soften the internal bracing just enough for something new to emerge.
And yet —
Not every guide will feel helpful.
Not every presence will feel safe.
Sometimes the most profound moments come with a practitioner…
Other times, it’s a tree, a dog, a memory, or the simple return of your own breath after years away.
A guide can’t give you anything you don’t already have.
But they can help you find what’s been waiting — just out of reach — until now.
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The Body as Concept, Not Contact
I’ve met many seasoned meditators — 20, 30 years into their practice, some even teachers.
And yet, the way they walk.
The way they talk.
The way their bodies move and their voices land —
it’s clear:
They live in body as concept, not body as contact.
There’s a certain lightness in the feet, a disconnect in the hips, a vocal rhythm that feels lifted and modulated rather than rooted and responsive.
This isn’t a critique. It’s a reflection of something we all do —
The body becomes an idea.
A place to “observe,” rather than inhabit.
But embodiment isn’t a performance.
It’s not the posture or the tone.
It’s the willingness to be with what’s here — messy, beautiful, trembling, true.
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In Closing:
To truly meditate is to meet what’s there — sensations, stories, and survival strategies alike.
To truly sense the body is to be changed by it.
So if you’ve been meditating for years but still feel far from yourself,
know this:
It’s not your fault.
It may not be meditation.
But it’s not failure.
It’s a pause at the edge of return.
And with kindness, curiosity, and a little guidance,
you might finally land.