How Breath, Movement, and Stillness Unlock Deeper Stories

For a long time, I didn't understand these practices—breath, movement, stillness. Not truly. I would often feel a quiet resistance rise within me, especially when others spoke of how essential stillness was, or how movement could connect us to our stories. Their words felt distant, like a language I hadn’t yet learned.

When I began exploring somatic movement, I struggled to link it to creativity or storytelling. While my body moved, my thoughts would spiral—fast, chaotic, relentless. When prompted to create afterward, to draw or express what had emerged, it felt forced.

I often found myself imitating outcomes I had seen before, chasing catharsis without truly arriving anywhere. Nothing felt significant. But I realize now, that was just the surface.

Beneath all of it, something subtle had begun to shift.

The Dance of Words and Motion: Creating My Own Practice

Without fully realizing, I was learning to tune in. To listen to my body in a way I never had before. I was uncovering the quiet truth: that breath, movement, and stillness are not separate—they are lovers in an intricate dance.

Expression is not linear. It is a spiral, a slow blooming, layered and alive. It asks for patience. And I was learning, ever so gently, how to offer it.

What I discovered along this path was reverence. Reverence for my own rhythm. For the personal pace at which healing unfolds. These are not skills to master overnight. They are tools to be returned to again and again, in our own way, in our own time.

We can borrow from others, yes. We can share practices and insights. But how deeply we choose to practice, how softly we can listen, and how often we turn inward—that is ours alone.

I did not know how many stories lived within my body. But as I began to move with awareness, I could feel them stirring.

One of the most consistent practices that helped me was a chakra-based body meditation—lying down, breathing deeply, journeying through each energy center. I would alternate slow and fast breaths, letting my awareness dance between root and crown, guided by mantras and intention.

There’s growing research exploring this subtle field—such as in paper Is There Scientific Evidence for Chakras? (Matos et al., 2021), which notes:

“Overall, it appears that radiations are detectable at chakra sites, which is consistent with the emerging field of energy medicine and biofield therapies (Matos et al., 2021).” (Moga, 2022)

This article is not about dissecting the chakras from scientific perspective—perhaps that is for another day. What matters is how this work felt in my body, how it spoke to my stories.

A Moving Meditation on Confusion

This morning, I returned to that practice.

Breath. Intention. A visit through all seven chakras. Then movement. Then stillness. And in the stillness… I listened.

I noticed a gentle itch between my eyes—my third eye. Tension in the lower belly. Warmth in the neck. A small twitch in my right thigh. I stayed with it all. Not analyzing. Not labeling. Just being with it—an open-hearted witness to my own sensations.

Then I asked: Body, what story do you want to tell me today? What word lives in you?

One word came. Confusion.

I didn’t push it away. I didn’t search for meaning. I simply accepted it, and began to draw. Not with a plan, but with presence. Mixed media fragments emerged—raw, honest, unresolved:

Then I asked my camera to join the conversation. Again, not thinking, just feeling. I let intuition lead. I filmed my art, captured textures, reflections, old collages and forgotten pieces. I let the lens speak.

The result? A short video—a moving meditation on confusion:

And it all began with the body.

Here, Even When Unclear

Only later, as I reflected, did the threads begin to make sense. I am currently in the midst of deep transitions. I moved to another country just months ago.

The university I worked for is unraveling. Dear friends have moved far away. Life feels uncertain, unrooted.

Of course confusion would rise. Of course I would ask: Where do I go from here? Who am I becoming?

Through this practice, confusion was no longer a shadow to avoid. It became a companion—an honored part of the whole.

This is the gift of breath, movement, and stillness. They return us to the body, the heart, the here. They help us shape our feelings into form. They let us listen. They let us love what is.

Even when what is… feels unclear.

Reference:

Moga, Margaret (2022) Is there scientific evidence for chakras? Available at: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/359774235_Is_there_scientific_evidence_for_chakras (Accessed: 28 May 2025)