In the Mountain’s Shadow, I Remember Where I Belong.
In the Mountain’s Shadow, I Remember Where I Belong"
Bridging Somatic Medicine with the Quiet Teachings of Earth
There are places the body remembers long before the mind catches up.
The cool hush of morning mist clinging to rock.
The way the air stills at the base of something ancient.
The way your breath slows when you’re in the presence of something bigger than you—but not threatening. Just true.
Mountains hold that kind of truth.
Not the kind you argue about or try to prove.
But the kind your nervous system feels and exhales into.
This is what somatic medicine points us toward—
A way of returning to the truth of the body,
the place before performance,
before expectation,
before we believed we had to earn our right to be.
The mountain never rushes.
It rises at its own pace.
It doesn’t shrink to make others comfortable, and it doesn’t stretch to prove anything.
It simply is—and in its shadow, we are invited to remember that we are, too.
Somatic healing often begins here:
In the quiet.
In the slowing down.
In the moment where we finally stop trying to be somewhere else,
and let ourselves belong to this moment, this body, this breath.
The mountain teaches us that groundedness is not rigidity.
It is rootedness.
It is a deep relationship with the land beneath you, the breath within you, and the rhythm that moves through all things.
Sometimes healing looks like climbing.
But more often, it looks like leaning back.
Like resting against the strength of something older than our fear.
Like remembering that we don’t have to carry it all alone.
In somatic work, we orient to safety.
We learn to come home to our sensations, to find presence in our bodies again.
And the mountain shows us:
Safety is not the absence of challenge.
It is the presence of something solid, something dependable,
something that reminds us we are already held.
You don’t have to be the tallest peak.
You don’t have to be unshakable.
But you can be steady.
You can be present.
You can let the mountain show you how to soften without collapsing,
how to rise without efforting,
how to belong to the earth without needing to prove your place.
So when you forget who you are—
when the noise is too loud or the climb feels endless—
find a mountain.
Stand in its shadow.
And let your body remember:
You belong here.
Just as you are.