Reclaiming our sensory and creative selves

Anaesthesia in everyday life

Our bodies are in constant exchange with the world, and many sensations are happening as you read this: the warmth of sunlight on your skin, the rhythm of your breath, the moisture of saliva in your mouth, the sound of your heartbeat, the pull of gravity. Even when we are absorbed in thought, sensory experiences keep arising — the exchange with life, life itself moving through us.

To some degree, we live in a quiet state of anaesthesia (without sensation) — not the kind used in hospitals, but an everyday numbness. We move through our routines, we scroll, we perform, we stay busy. Our ability to perceive sensory information gradually becomes muted. We get disconnected from our lived experience. It's not only about ignoring the tension in our shoulders after sitting the whole day at the desk. The kind of sensitivity I’m talking about is subtler. We become numb to the feeling of our feet on the ground, the touch of air on our skin, the temperature of the room, the connection with nature and the beauty around us. We lose touch with ourselves and our surroundings, often without realising it.

Sensory experience is our primary way of knowing and being in the world

I see sensory experience as a dynamic embodied relationship. Our senses aren’t just tools; they’re how we meet ourselves and the world.

Imagine you're walking through a park and come across a tree. What is that moment like? You don’t just see the tree — you immediately sense how far it is, notice its movement, smell its leaves, and hear them rustle. In an instant, you take in the whole feeling of the tree.

In lived experience, our perception seems to be amodal. It arises from multiple qualities like visual, rhythm, space, texture, smell, intensity, etc., not from any one sense alone. All senses work together, constantly interacting and dynamically shaping our reality.

Sensing is also a way of attuning to a world that is alive and responsive. Your experience of the tree is very different from mine. Our senses shape the felt texture of experience and give us direct knowledge — what philosophers call "qualia": the subjective qualities of conscious experience. It’s the feeling of what it’s like to experience something, which is different from knowing about something.

For example, I can tell you what an orange tastes like, so you know about it. But to truly know its flavour, you have to taste it yourself. To experience an orange, you have to come into direct contact with it.

Our sensitivity shapes how present we are in life and the intensity of our aliveness.

Listen for it, feel it move in you, and let it emerge

Receptivity is participatory. It requires attention — stretching your awareness toward sensations, thoughts, feelings, and the environment. It is an active openness to "being affected": feeling and being moved by the world. Receptivity involves both sensing and releasing control, balancing an awake, sensory-engaged body with a mind softened from compulsive thinking. It is surrendering in trust to your body’s wisdom, the unfolding moment, and the unknown.

For me, receptivity begins on the skin. The skin feels like an organ of deep listening. I follow the breath and the heartbeat to attune with myself, while the skin opens outward. In this state, my gaze softens, and I allow my mind to rest. The body becomes more spacious. It is not just sensing but receiving — letting the world in more fully than usual.

Receptivity requires space for the new to enter, softness and flexibility to let it move, structure to hold it, and attraction so some of it stays.

Perception and expression

"Aisthesis" (perception, bodily/sensory knowing) and "poiesis" (shaping) are interdependent. Our experience is the basis and impulse for creative shaping. We do not merely receive the world — we respond to it. Perception becomes the impulse for creative action. We are co-creating with life through the body and its sensations.

Creativity as a return to contact

Every person is creative by nature. It’s part of being human. We constantly create things, ideas, thoughts — in an ongoing creative conversation with the world within and around us. Creativity is activated in contact — in that moment of sensing, an impulse arises to shape, speak, move or reflect. That response is the seed of creation.

In our productivity-driven society, creativity is often associated with innovation, problem-solving, and personal ego. Many people think that it is only for artists and misunderstand the word.

But creativity is in every moment of our lives.

The word comes from Latin, meaning "to make" or "to create." When you make a coffee, prepare a sandwich for breakfast, or simply have thoughts, you are being creative. The idea of uniqueness often turns creativity into something exclusive, reserved for just a few people. But if we pay attention to subtle details, we notice that everything we create is one of a kind. No one can make the same coffee or sandwich as you just made, not even you. There will always be some difference in smell, taste, or texture. New forms are always emerging, naturally and organically.

If we bring our attention to the present moment, we will realise that just as every moment is special, everything arising in it is special, one of a kind. And it’s also arising through us. Each of us is a unique lens through which life constantly brings new experiences into being.

Engaging in Expressive Arts helps clear your lens, wiping away the dust of borrowed beliefs and letting you shine your light in your unique expressions. In an Expressive Arts session, you use art materials to respond to life situations, so you can explore, take risks and find out what you want to bring as a response to your everyday.

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Thanks for reading. Share your thoughts or questions in the comments — what resonated with you, what didn't? Your input helps us grow together.

Considering trying out Expressive Arts? Reach out to me for one-on-one or group sessions.