The Body-Mind As An Appearance of Impersonal Beingness

The Body-Mind Knows What It Needs

What is often called “need” is, in truth, a reflection of impersonal beingness’ natural expression through the body-mind. From the perspective of impersonal beingness, there is no separate entity to need anything. Yet within the appearance of experience, certain movements—what we might call tendencies—arise spontaneously.

These tendencies are not signs of lack, but natural expressions of the intelligence of impersonal beingness. They are not personal flaws or brokenness, but subtle pathways through which beingness, in its impersonal and infinite nature, dances in time and form.

The body-mind is not a separate object. It is not self-existing. It is an appearance within beingness, arising from the same impersonal, divine impersonal beingness that gives rise to all phenomena. It is an open system, inseparable from its environment—relational, physical, energetic, and existential.

When the belief in separation takes root—the belief that “I am this body and mind, distinct from the world”—what were once natural, flowing tendencies of impersonal beingness appear as objective needs tied to a fictional self. This belief gives rise to the sense that happiness must be found in experience, and thus begins the illusion of lack. It is the root of all limiting beliefs.

From this standpoint of identification:

• The spontaneous desire for relational contact becomes a search for validation.

• The natural rhythm of rest becomes guilt-laden fatigue.

• The appearance of action turns into striving and avoidance.

• What once flowed as love, understanding, and beauty becomes fractured into craving, fear, and control.

Thus, the simple nourishment of the body-mind—its innate openness to experience—is distorted into a story of deficiency. The organism becomes anxious, defensive, and conflicted. It begins to act not from clarity, but from a mistaken identity, reinforcing the very suffering it seeks to escape.

But when the belief “I am this separate self” is seen through, the apparent seeker dissolves. What remains is awareness at peace with itself, impersonal, unbounded, and ever-present. In this clear space, the body-mind returns to its natural harmony—not as something that needs to be healed, but as a reflection of the absence of resistance.

From this view:

• What is spoken arises from the peace of silence.

• What is thought reflects intelligence, not anxiety.

• What is done flows from effortless stillness, not contracted effort.

• Relationships unfold in openness, not need.

The so-called “needs” of the body-mind reveal themselves to be expressions of the qualities of impersonal beingness:

• Love (Oneness) in relational openness, and intimate contact with life.

• Knowing (Understanding) in autonomy, skill, and discernment.

• Beauty (Perception) in balance, rest, and respect for life.

There is no one fulfilling these. The body-mind becomes transparent—a luminous appearance within awareness, moving in harmony with what is.

There is no path to walk, no self to perfect, no nourishment to attain. There is only the recognition of what is already whole, already home.

And in that effortless recognition, the movements of the body-mind unfold with grace, reflecting—not obstructing—the impersonal light from which they arise.

The Protective Intelligence of the Body-Mind

The body-mind is endowed with a remarkable intelligence—a responsive sensitivity to its environment. Within this intelligence arises what is often called the fight, flight, freeze, or tend-and-befriend response: an elegant, spontaneous mechanism designed to protect the organism from perceived harm.

This mechanism is not a flaw. It is not something to fix. It is a natural appearance within consciousness, a functional play of form—neither personal nor permanent. In the absence of identification, it arises as needed and then dissolves, like a wave returning to the ocean.

However, when the belief takes hold that “I am this body,” the natural protective intelligence becomes personalized. The spontaneous response becomes a story of threat, tied to a sense of a vulnerable, separate self. What was once an immediate and appropriate reaction becomes a pattern, an identity.

Fear is no longer just a sensation—it becomes “my fear.”
Tension is no longer a signal—it becomes “my trauma.”
Defensiveness becomes not a transient protection but a fixed posture of selfhood.

And thus, the body-mind begins to embed trauma—not only from actual events but from the misinterpretation of reality through the lens of separation. Defenses that were once functional become chronic reactions, even in the absence of true danger. The organism, believing itself to be at the center of experience, contracts unnecessarily, mistaking presence for threat.

Yet the trauma is not in the event itself—it is in the belief in separation, the misidentification with the body-mind. This is the wound beneath all wounds: the forgetting of our nature as impersonal, indestructible awareness.

When this belief is seen through, even momentarily, the protective mechanism reintegrates into its original intelligence. It arises without distortion, functions briefly, and dissolves. There is no tension, because there is no one to defend. Responses are no longer governed by the past—they are spontaneous, attuned, and fluid.

The body-mind does not need to be repaired. It only needs to be liberated from the illusion of being “me.” And in that liberation, the nervous system unwinds. The patterns of defense soften. The sensitivity remains, but without fear.

It becomes clear that true safety lies not in controlling life, but in the effortless recognition that what we are cannot be harmed.

With Love,

Freyja