What the Body Reveals in Stillness

I was standing still this morning. I love doing this, and I practice it often. I get lost in it — standing, breathing, just resting in Mountain Pose.

I’m continually amazed by how much is revealed when I stop moving. How much I’m bracing, without even realizing it.

As I stand, I begin to feel how much tension is contorting me — in my torso, my legs, my shoulders, my neck. It’s not dramatic or obvious at first. It’s subtle. Layered. Quiet. And it makes me wonder: How long have I been ignoring this?

I’ve always known I carry tension. Pain. But for a long time, I resisted simply being here with it. I practice stillness in many ways, but something about standing reveals so much more. When I allow myself to pause, time seems to soften. My breathing lightens. My attention sharpens. I become deeply interested in sensation — every ripple, every pull, every holding pattern.

Standing still becomes anything but still — a complex story of the past woven into unconscious contractions, ebbing and flowing.

The Body Tells Its Story

As awareness deepens, I can feel layers of contraction spiraling through my body, subtly bending and twisting me into awkward shapes. When you pause long enough, you begin to sense that every tissue carries a story — a history written into muscle, fascia, breath, and bone.

This morning, my body began to draw forward and twist — a familiar cringing, protective shape. I noticed a leftward pull, a subtle leaning and rotation. I didn’t resist it. I didn’t try to correct it. I followed it with curiosity.

The pathway felt magnetic — like every fiber knew exactly how to take that shape. It was powerful. Natural.

And suddenly, I wasn’t just in my body.
I wasn’t in an accident or out of surgery.

I was back in the kitchen.

How Work Shapes the Body

I could feel it clearly — I was working at our family restaurant, Mr. Pizza in Rochester, Minnesota. I could sense everything: the sounds, the smells, the intensity, the pace. My body subtly adjusted as if reaching across the counter, pivoting, turning.

My mind whirled through memories of throwing pizzas into the oven, pivoting back and forth. Pivoting again. Cutting. Boxing. Moving.

Over and over.
The same pattern.
The same posture.
Year after year.

I had shaped my body to be efficient.

Leaning forward.
Twisting.
Reaching.
Reacting.

My nervous system learned every detail of that environment — how to move quickly, how to respond instantly, how to stay in overdrive. Add in past injuries, illness, stress, and exhaustion, and over time pain became normal. Burnout became normal. Drinking became normal — a way to cope with pain I didn’t yet understand.

I stretched. I exercised. I rested. I sought help.
But the pain always came back.

Because I was never addressing the pattern beneath it all.

Learning to Feel What Was Hidden

It wasn’t until I discovered somatic yoga and breathwork that I began to understand what was actually happening inside me. And even then, I had no idea how thick the layer of resistance was — the resistance that prevented my mind from seeing the tension that was holding me so tightly.

It’s so difficult to sense our own body. Profoundly difficult.

Somatic practice taught me something humbling:

I didn’t know myself nearly as well as I thought I did.

Six years later, I can honestly say something surprising — I feel like I know even less now. Not because I’ve gone backward, but because awareness has expanded. The deeper you look, the more complexity you discover.

Life is like that.

A leaf looks simple… until you study it.
An ant seems small… until you observe it closely.
Everything unravels into infinite detail.

Turning inward is no different.

The body is like that.
The breath is like that.
The mind is like that.

The more subtle the awareness, the more layers reveal themselves.

A Universe Within

That’s why Mountain Pose continues to feel so fresh and alive for me. The stiller I am — the longer I stay — the more truth reveals itself: there is an entire universe within.

And the more I unravel it, the better I feel — not because I’ve “fixed” anything, but because I’m getting out of the way… because I am finally listening.

There is always more to discover.
Always more to refine.
Always more to feel.

And instead of that being discouraging, I find it deeply exciting.

A Mirror for You

If you’ve ever felt stuck in one posture, one pattern, one way of holding yourself — physically or emotionally — your body may be telling a story too.

You don’t have to fix it.
You don’t have to stretch it away.
You don’t have to force change.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is pause… stand still… and listen.

We are not meant to break down as we age.
We are meant to refine, enhance, and deepen ourselves.

That is the heart of this work.
That is the dedication behind Pneuma Yoga.

Simple practices.
Honest awareness.
Turning inward.
Reshaping health and vitality — not by force, but by presence.

Sometimes, all it takes…
is standing still.