Vital communication

The first time I visited a country where I didn’t speak the language was during a short trip to Israel with my family. The next place I was completely clueless was India. In these places—unlike Germany, Italy, or Mexico—the languages were so far beyond my comprehension that I didn’t even try to decode what I heard.
Portugal was different. The past two weeks there were eye-opening, especially around communication (and in many other ways, too). I had studied a bit of basic Portuguese beforehand, and my background in Spanish ended up being both a bridge and a barrier. Sometimes it helped me crack open conversations; other times, it led me straight into confusion—especially with those sneaky false cognates that seem familiar but mean entirely different things.
When I needed to express anything complex (more than three words), I defaulted to Spanish. It wasn’t intentional—I would have rather tried to stutter out something in Portuguese, because that’s where I was—but Spanish is the most worn path in my brain after English. Still, we got by. Pantomime, facial expressions, and pointing carried us through. But it was never full communication. Something essential, of course, was always missing.
And that brings me to what I really want to ask:
How fully are you communicating with yourself?
Are you tuned in to all the ways your being speaks to you?
Can you engage in a full conversation with your body, energy, and spirit?
Messages are likely coming your way—but if they don't arrive in the “language” you're used to (words, logic, familiar sensations), you might miss them. The subtle body is always communicating, and what it has to say is often more impactful than whatever story your mind is spinning.
But we’re not really taught how to listen. We brush off this inner voice with phrases like “I had a gut feeling” or “a little voice told me,” as if those insights are rare or magical—when in truth, they’re natural, frequent, and should be a well-worn pathway in your brain.
Here’s an example:
I was recently working with a longtime client using some of the new fascia release techniques. He liked the work, sensed it was helping, but couldn’t explain why. At one point, I mentioned he should be “looking for the release,” and he said, “I don’t know what that means—I’m no good at this stuff. I’m too dense. What are you talking about?”
So I asked him to place his hands on my head the same way I was working on his. I guided him to notice what he felt.
“A pulse,” he said—certain it was the same pulse you’d feel on your wrist.
I asked: Is it even on both sides? Is it changing?
Soon, he realized it wasn’t a heartbeat—it shifted too easily and changed rhythm unpredictably. There was a different quality to it, something not easy to put into words.
I gently suggested: Maybe you’re feeling the fascia move. Maybe that’s the release. Could the pulsation you're feeling be something other than the heart?
Then I worked on him again. Remember, the only thing that had changed was his thinking—“pulse” had become “pulsation.” It shifted from a measurable medical event to an energetic experience that could now be felt and observed.
And the result? Here’s how he described his experience while we worked:
“I feel my head expanding... I’m seeing blue spheres with white lights surrounding them... so many colors... warmth... openness… aliveness…”
All from a shift in perception.
All from a willingness to listen to—and use—a new way of communicating that goes far deeper than any spoken language.

We can all learn this, and we can all begin to decode what our subtle anatomy is saying.