The Body as an Impermanent, Imprinted, and Improvisational Instrument
“Embodiment” has become something of a buzzword these days. I'm not always sure what we mean when we say it, but it's got me thinking about what it means to inhabit a body that's constantly changing, shaped by circumstances, and adapting to keep us alive.
To explore embodiment, I want to consider the body as an instrument requiring care, maintenance, and attunement. I've been thinking about three qualities of this instrument: its impermanence, its imprints, and its capacity to improvise.
Impermanence: Our relationship with time/mortality
Our bodies are the instruments through which we learn to make life’s music, from our earliest beginnings until our inevitable death. We may try to resist, delay, or avoid thinking about our impermanence, but no matter how well we care for ourselves, our time here is finite.
How might accepting our bodies as temporary structures change the way we care for ourselves and our time here? Perhaps we'd resist aging less and become more responsive to our evolving needs and desires. Perhaps we'd recognize that reverence for our bodies doesn't require preserving the appearance of youth. Maybe then we'd focus on nurturing the qualities we associate with youthfulness, like vitality, playfulness, and openness to possibility. Maybe we'd be gentler with ourselves through life's transitions, reframing a midlife crisis and an empty nest as time for reconsideration.
In accepting impermanence, care for our bodies becomes about tending to the lives we’re able to live through them.
Imprinted: Our relationship with context
We enter the world shaped by far more than genetics. We inherit biological, socioeconomic, environmental, cultural, historical, and relational conditions that influence how we live and age. Some of us inherit predispositions to certain health conditions. Our access to financial security, nutritious food, safe environments, healthcare, and legal protections is shaped by the social conditions we're born into. Even our beliefs about what we're entitled to expect from life are influenced by the cultures and communities around us. Our bodies carry histories that extend beyond our individual choices. They reflect the conditions we've lived within, the resources we've had access to, and the ways we've learned to respond to our environments. This complicates the idea that health is simply a matter of personal responsibility. Many of these collective influences exist beyond our individual control.
We have influence over certain aspects of our well-being, but we don’t all start out with the same resources, and not everyone has the same opportunities to make changes. To understand a body, we have to consider the context in which it exists. Perhaps recognizing these imprints allows us to approach ourselves and others with greater curiosity and less judgment. Rather than asking only what someone is doing to maintain their health, we might also ask what conditions have shaped their capacity to do so.
Improvisational: Our relationship with adaptation
The sheer complexity of functions our bodies must coordinate to keep us alive requires constant improvisation.
Without our conscious direction, our hearts beat, our lungs exchange oxygen, our cells repair themselves, and our nervous systems respond to changing conditions. Countless processes are unfolding simultaneously, adjusting and recalibrating as circumstances shift.
When certain rhythms fall out of sync or conditions become less than ideal, our bodies compensate to maintain functioning. They redistribute resources, adjust their functioning, and respond to the demands of their environments. Some adaptations support us in the short term but become costly over time.
We often evaluate our bodies according to how reliably they perform. We notice when something hurts, slows down, or stops working as expected. But we rarely consider the extraordinary coordination required to keep us functioning in the first place.
What if we appreciated our bodies not only for what they're capable of doing, but for the constant adjustments they make on our behalf?
Improvisation doesn't guarantee success. Our bodies have limits, and sometimes their attempts to compensate aren't enough. Rather than immediately viewing these experiences as failures, we might become curious about what our bodies are responding to and what they need from us.
Learning to inhabit the instrument
Impermanence, imprinting, and improvisation are interconnected. If this is the nature of our bodies, why do we so often hold them to standards of permanence, perfection, and predictability?
Perhaps embodiment begins with recognizing that we aren't inhabiting fixed structures. We're living through bodies that have histories, limitations, and remarkable capacities for adaptation.
To care for them requires more than maintenance. It asks us to pay attention, to recognize when our needs have changed, and to reconsider the expectations we place upon ourselves.
An instrument needs attunement, but attunement isn't a one-time event. What sounded right yesterday may need adjusting today.
This framework, noticing what we’ve inherited, how you’ve adapted, and who you’re becoming is how I facilitate therapy sessions. I currently offer 1:1 sessions as well as relational sessions for non-romantic partnerships.
Molly Roklen
Narrative Therapist
