UNION

At the centre of many ancient wisdom traditions sits the heart, not only as a physical organ, but as a bridge. A connector. The meeting place between mind and body, inner world and outer world. In yogic philosophy, this energetically, is the space where union becomes possible.

Union is not something we need to force or manufacture. It already exists. Our physical body and subtle body are in constant conversation, resonating with and shaping one another moment by moment. Sensation, emotion, thought, posture, breath. None of this happens in isolation. They arise together as one living system.

Yet much of modern movement and bodywork culture approaches the body as if it were a collection of separate parts to be fixed. A tight hamstring. A weak core. A stiff hip. We zoom in on one area, assuming it functions independently from the rest of the body, and from the rest of our lives. But the body doesn’t work like that.

As yoga teacher Pete Blackaby so clearly names:

“If an area of the body appears tight or weak or stiff, it is generally because of the way a person acts and responds in the world as a whole. If we want to engage with the problems a person presents, we need instead to look at the whole situation, not just where the symptom emerges.”

This perspective invites a radical shift away from fragmentation and towards compassion. When we stop treating the body as a problem to solve, we begin to listen. Tightness becomes information. Pain becomes communication. Patterns in movement reflect patterns in how we orient to the world: how we protect ourselves, reach out, hold back, brace, soften, connect.

The heart, both physically and symbolically sits right at the centre of this inquiry. Anatomically, it mediates between upper and lower body, breath and circulation. Energetically, it bridges instinct and intellect, sensation and meaning. When the heart space is involved, movement becomes less about correction and more about relationships.

This is especially vital in a world that increasingly reinforces the illusion of separation. Fear, polarisation, and disconnection encourage us to see ourselves as isolated from our bodies, from one another, and from the environment we live within. The same mindset that divides communities also fragments the self.

Practices rooted in union gently undo this illusion.

When we move with awareness, when we sense rather than force, when we include the whole body, and the whole person, something shifts. We remember that nothing is truly separate. We remember that healing is not about fixing parts, but about restoring connection. That compassion is not a moral ideal, but a biological and relational necessity.

Union begins in the body. It lives in the heart. The compassion from this flows in towards ourselves and out towards others.

A compassionate enquiry practice for union (to weave through your day)

Rather than a practice to complete, this is something to return to again and again as you move through ordinary moments of the day.

You might begin in the morning, while brushing your teeth or making a cup of tea, by asking:

• What am I noticing in my body right now?

• Where do I feel connected? Where do I feel separate or braced?

  
  

There’s no need to change anything. Just notice.

As the day unfolds, maybe during work, movement, conversations, or moments of pause, you might explore:

• If this sensation could speak, what might it want me to know?

• What happens if I meet this experience with curiosity rather than judgement?

  
  

When something feels tight, uncomfortable, or emotionally charged, see if you can gently ask:

• What is present here beneath the surface?

• What does this part of me need right now, not to be fixed, but to be included?

  
  

You might notice how the body responds when it is listened to… how breath shifts, how posture subtly changes, maybe begin to soften.

At moments of transition, when we are finishing work, preparing for rest, can you return to the heart space and with curiosity ask:

• How am I holding myself in this moment?

• What would it be like to let the heart act as a bridge right now between thinking and feeling, doing and being?
  

There are no right answers here. Compassionate inquiry is not about analysis; it is about relationship. About staying close to experience with friendliness. 

Over time, these questions help reveal the body not as a collection of parts, but as a coherent, responsive whole, shaped by life, and always moving toward connection.

This is union in practice. Not something to achieve. But something to remember and return to.