Ancestors... where did the body go?

This morning I'm sitting on my wicker sofa, tucked into the corner of my porch on one of those rare perfect summer mornings in Wilmington. If you're local, you know the kind. The sun is out, a cool breeze cuts through the lingering memory of this week's humidity, and for the first time in days the air feels spacious.

I've been sitting here for the better part of half an hour, feeling into what I want to do with the rest of my day. There are several pieces of writing waiting in my drafts folder, but instead I keep returning to a conversation I had yesterday with a woman who has spent years in the alternative health space.

Both of us have found ourselves navigating the aftermath of recent collapse — the strange terrain of rebuilding after something significant falls apart. Somewhere in our conversation, we landed on a topic that has been lingering in my mind ever since.

I shared with her one of the things I've struggled to reconcile since moving deeper into somatic work and away from practices focused primarily on regulation or coping techniques. What I've become increasingly interested in is not simply managing difficult moments but exploring what creates an entirely new baseline of experience.

And yet, as I've practiced and reflected on many spiritual and Shamanic traditions, I've noticed a contradiction I can't seem to shake.

We're taught that everything is sacred. The earth is sacred. The trees are sacred. The animals are sacred. The elements are sacred. Spirit exists in all things. Interconnectedness is the foundation.

And yet, in my own experience, accessing altered states often seemed to require moving away from the fullness of being human.

When I practiced remote viewing and Shamanic journeying, there was often a subtle shift that occurred. I wouldn't describe it as leaving my body entirely, but there was a stepping back from emotion — a flattening, a detachment, a getting out of the way.

I've noticed similar dynamics in other professions. Doctors, nurses, therapists, and caregivers are often expected to compartmentalize their emotional experience in order to function effectively.

I've begun to wonder... is that actually necessary?

Or is it a consequence of systems that don't provide enough support for people to remain connected to themselves while caring for others?

And how does this impact the quality of care provided?

The same question keeps arising when I think about spirituality and more specifically, Shamanism.

If these traditions are rooted in reverence for life, why does it so often feel as though the body takes the back seat?

Where did the body go?

Or as my friend and I expressed in revelatory unison, gesturing to our bodies, "Where did the reverence for the Earth (as body) go in Shamanism?"

The question becomes even more interesting when we look historically. Many accounts suggest that women were among the earliest practitioners of Shamanic traditions. And while I hesitate to reduce every conversation to discussions of patriarchy, I do find myself wondering whether certain adaptations occurred over time.

Were they modified to fit the structures through which they had to survive?

Were practices shaped in ways that made them more acceptable within male-dominated social structures?

Was there ever a point when embodied wisdom became less emphasized because it was safer — or more culturally acceptable — to prioritize transcendent experience instead?

Missed in translation?

Or am I missing something entirely?

Because what I've learned through somatic work is that the body itself is alive with intelligence.

Intuition does not live exclusively in the third eye, or some distant spiritual realm. The body itself is constantly communicating. It carries information, perception, memory, and knowing. Though visions. Through sensation. Through emotion. Through the subtle signals constantly moving through us.

Yet when I speak with mediums, psychics, remote viewers, and other practitioners, there is often a common description: a feeling of stepping aside.

I understand what they mean.

I experienced it too.

But increasingly, I'm interested in a different possibility.

What if we didn't have to step aside?

What if we could remain fully connected to our bodies, our emotions, and our humanity while accessing whatever intelligence exists beyond ordinary awareness?

Would the experience change?

Would the information change?

Would we?

I don't have answers.

The older I get, the less interested I become in certainty anyway. Every insight we receive — whether through meditation, journeying, intuition, or ordinary life — is filtered through our conditioning, beliefs, and way of perceiving reality.