“I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular when I stood by the window looking down on the street; I wasn’t reminiscing or contemplating the future. In fact, it was one of the rare moments when the mind is quiet, able to enjoy what the eyes see without interpreting or destroying the moment with unnecessary speculation, when the eyes capture a ray of sunlight on a wall and direct it into the soul.”

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—Olaf Olafsson, Touch

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We all have those moments when the mind is quiet and we can simply see a ray of sunlight, hear the call of a red-winged blackbird, smell star jasmine climbing a wall, taste the burst of flavor in a bite of a warm chocolate-chip cookie, or feel the skin of a beloved beneath our fingers.

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We also have the ability to sense what is happening inside ourselves: our heart rate, the movement of breath through the body, and the many sensations that arise within us—energy, vibration, fluttering, pressure, weight, tingling, and more.

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Last week, in a workshop for a governmental agency, I was briefly introducing the idea of “fields” in the context of engaging communities in constructive interaction. One of the leaders asked:

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“How do we perceive them?”

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Such a good question—with a simple and yet complex answer.

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Through the body, I replied. Especially when the mind is quiet.

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But how do we quiet the mind, particularly in a meeting filled with words, tones of voice, body language, competing perspectives, and the task at hand?

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It’s Simple: Our Bodies

Our bodies can be both the source of emotional and cognitive hijacking and the antidote to it.

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When we notice our minds spinning, we can take a first step toward quieting them by noticing our feet on the ground, our bodies supported by a chair, and the breath moving through us. By gently extending our exhales for several breaths, we can help shift our nervous system toward greater balance between sympathetic and parasympathetic activation.

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The next step is to notice what is happening inside—to sense what Eugene Gendlin called the “felt sense.”

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A felt sense is often a web of unclear, nuanced, subtle sensations in the body that usually go unnoticed. Yet we are not entirely unconscious of them.

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When we bring a gentle, kind curiosity to these sensations, they often become clearer. We begin to notice what our bodies know holistically about what is happening—not only within us, but also in the situation and relationships around us.

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Our bodies can know something about our lived reality before our conscious minds do. In fact, when our minds are spinning with thoughts and emotions, that activity can make it difficult to perceive the whole.

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As David I. Rome writes in Your Body Knows the Answer: Using Your Felt Sense to Solve Problems, Effect Change, and Liberate Creativity:

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“Felt senses are both bodily experienced and meaningful. They embody the unique reality of our individual lives in ways that can’t yet be put into words.”

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Felt senses offer us a direct experience of our living reality—both within ourselves and in the fields around us, including the personal and social fields.

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It’s Complex: Practice. Practice. Practice.

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It is much easier to write about connecting with and listening to bodily sensations than it is to actually do it—especially without the interpreting and unnecessary speculation that Olafsson describes.

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Our internal worlds are made up of multiple, interrelated parts whose relationships to one another are often unknown and sometimes unknowable. This is where the brilliant work of Eugene Gendlin and the practice of Focusing, along with meditative traditions developed over millennia, can be so valuable.

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Both offer ways to move beneath the surface—to sense moredeeply into what is happening rather than simply reacting to what appears to be happening.

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So there I am, facilitating a group of scientists and engineers investigating ways to address nuclear waste.

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Not a simple problem. In fact, an extraordinarily complex one.

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I notice that they are talking faster. They begin interrupting one another. Some looked frustrated with furrowed brows. I notice that my own internal state is becoming jumpy. I feel rushed.

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I ask them to pause and notice the change in how they are talking with one another. “What’s going on?” I ask. The room becomes quiet.

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After a few moments, one of the scientists quips: "We don’t want to do anything stupid!”

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Everyone cracks up. And in that moment, something becomes visible.

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Despite their honorable intentions and substantial expertise, they realize they are scared. None of them wants to “do anything stupid” that could cause harm.

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The scientist’s quip shifts the field in the room. The tension softens. They can see and acknowledge something that had been operating beneath the surface.

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And they continue their investigation in a more constructive way.

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We Don’t Want to Do Anything Stupid

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Field awareness is not about having all the answers. It is about becoming more aware of what is happening—within ourselves, between us, and around us.

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Sometimes that awareness begins with something as simple as noticing our feet on the ground and the breath moving through our bodies. Sometimes it means pausing long enough to notice the felt sense of a situation.

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And sometimes, when we quiet the mind enough to perceive what is already there, we capture a ray of sunlight.

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How might developing your field awareness support you—and those around you—in not doing anything stupid or harmful?

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How might tuning into your bodily sensations and overall felt sense quiet your mind enough for you to perceive more of what is happening?

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Perhaps, in those moments, the eyes can capture a ray of sunlight—and direct it into the wise soul.