In a goal-oriented culture, we have grown accustomed to treating the body as a tool for achieving ambitions. We focus on outcomes, forgetting that it is the process where character is forged. But what happens when the body — our ally and the foundation of our work — begins to “push us out”? A somatic crisis, manifesting as pain and limitation, is not merely a medical challenge. Above all, it is a profound lesson in truth. It is the moment we must ask: who am I when I can no longer run?
My life has always revolved around movement. When choosing my professional path, I fled the desk — instead of digital design I chose craft, to stay in action. Yoga and dance were my language. My motto was: “May the body never be an obstacle to me.” As a psychologist I chose paths that unite spirit and matter: craniosacral therapy, Reiki, and EFT Cellular. In the latter, reading from the body is foundational. I believe every symptom is a message. I decided to listen — but I did not expect to hear a scream.
By a twist of fate, just as I became a yoga teacher, my body “froze”. Pain in all my joints took away my ability to practise Ashtanga in the form I loved. Yet it was precisely this crisis that forced me back to the roots — to Yoga Chikitsa (yoga therapy). I came to understand that Ashtanga is not only the fluidity of asanas, but above all an eightfold path. When physicality fails, Ahimsa — the principle of non-harming — moves to the foreground. Accepting limitation then becomes the highest form of practice, more important than the most demanding asana.
In working with EFT Cellular, we learn the “biology of acceptance”. Despite pain and a sense of betrayal, the spoken words “I completely and deeply accept myself” carry the power to quiet the limbic system. This radical “yes” to reality allows us to exit the fighting mode that only intensifies inflammation. As Viktor Frankl wrote in the context of logotherapy, meaning is not found in suffering itself, but in how we respond to it. My response was a shift from “doing” yoga to “being” in yoga — even if that now means only guiding yoga nidra and learning to let go.
Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, in his concept of Flow, points out that happiness is a state of complete immersion in process. If my body no longer allows me flow through intense movement, I must find it in stillness, in breath, in presence with another person. This is a redefinition of identity: I am no longer merely a “functioning body” — I am the awareness that inhabits it.
The path through a somatic crisis teaches authenticity. The goal, understood as a return to former capability, becomes secondary to the lesson of humility. Understanding that the path itself holds value allows us to find meaning even in stillness. The body, though limited, remains a teacher. It reminds us that a person’s true worth does not lie in how demanding a sequence they can perform, but in how they treat themselves when the pace of life compels them to stop.
Bibliography
Frankl, V. E., Man’s Search for Meaning.
Kübler-Ross, E., On Death and Dying.
Csíkszentmihályi, M., Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience.
Jung, C. G., Psychology and Religion.
Scott, J., Ashtanga Yoga.
Church, D., Research on the Effectiveness of EFT in Cortisol Reduction.