Those who live untethered from their bodies often experience panic attacks - a natural physiological response when body, mind, and spirit become splintered. The body will always act in the name of survival - for it carries an innate wisdom. Panic attacks are the body's way of calling the soul back from exile when spirit drifts too far from flesh. It is rupture - the moment the soma revolts against sustained neglect, rising to reclaim its throne as the sovereign seat of emotion and intuition. Like plaque, neglect accumulates - yet some never do the emotional flossing required.
For the disembodied, panic can crescendo into a dizzying spin, mimicking death itself - a tight chest, shortness of breath, and a sense of violent collapse. The body enacts the threat of death to remind us to live within it. Those who have never known this may dismiss it as indulgence - dramatic stress draped in baroque adornments, a performative cry for attention. But those who know, know.
Healing begins as a subtle return - a quiet reconnection, or perhaps a gradual reunion of the logical mind with the physical body - learning to reinhabit its home once more, barefoot. The first sign of healing is interoception - the slow, sacred art of noticing. The body becomes not just flesh, but a resonant realm of sensation, signal, and sensitivity. Present-tense living begins not in thought, but in skin.
Interoception grounds the psyche. With it comes the flow of emotion - not as narrative, but as presence. For feelings do not originate in the mind - they land in muscle, pool in tissue, and settle in the gut. They are not abstractions, but incarnations - to feel is to return, and to return is to live.
Stunning: say more.