We store everything in the body. Joy. Grief. Fear. Love. Things we’ve forgotten consciously live on in tension, in breath, in the way we hold ourselves.

There’s a moment in almost every session when something shifts.

Not dramatically. Not with revelation or release or catharsis.

Just… a softening. A breath that goes deeper. A place that was guarded, suddenly open.

And I wonder: What was held there? What story lived in that tension?

The body remembers what the mind forgets.

A harsh word from childhood. A moment of shame. A time we felt unsafe. A touch that wasn’t welcome.

We don’t consciously carry these things. But the body does. In the jaw. In the hips. In the way we breathe – or don’t.

Tantric massage isn’t about “releasing” these stories. It’s not about digging them up, analyzing them, making sense of them.

It’s about creating space for the body to simply feel safe enough to let go.

When we feel held – truly held, without agenda or expectation – the body exhales.

It doesn’t need to be fixed. It doesn’t need to explain itself. It just needs permission to stop bracing.

I see this in my own practice. I’ve spent years working with materials – paint, stone, sound – trying to understand control and surrender.

But the body taught me something deeper: You can’t think your way into presence. You have to feel your way there.

When someone lies down, they bring everything with them. Their history. Their defenses. Their hopes. Their fears.

My job isn’t to take any of that away. It’s to create a container safe enough that none of it has to be performed or explained or solved.

Just felt.

Just witnessed.

Just allowed to exist.

And in that allowing, something softens. Not because we forced it. But because we stopped forcing anything at all.

The body knows how to heal. It knows how to open. It knows how to return to itself.

We just have to stop getting in its way.

Namaste