Embodied Speech: Rediscovering the Sense We Never Knew We Had

by Jennifer Finch, M.A., LPC, NCC, SEP

December 30, 2024

When I first encountered the idea of speech as a sense in Philip Shepherd’s Radical Wholeness: The Embodied Present and the Ordinary Grace of Being, my brain did that thing where it politely short-circuits and the record scratches. Wait—speech? A sense? How have I been ignoring this my whole life?

Shepherd introduces this concept through the lens of the Anlo-Ewe culture, a West African community, primarily in Ghana, Togo, and Benin. For the Anlo-Ewe people, speech is as much a sense as touch or taste. Imagine that, words not just as sounds or meanings but as something felt through the body, across space, into another person. It’s not just a delivery system; as Shepherd suggests, “it’s discovery.”

For many of us in the modern, disembodied West, this is an alien idea. We treat speech like a quick text message, a utilitarian transaction to get a point across. It can even be administered as an unwritten contract of sorts, airing out our demands and expectations and unfiltered noise. Sometimes, it’s less about what we’re saying and more about drowning out the silence we can’t bear to hold. For some, the nonstop chatter is an insecure attachment on full display, a frantic attempt to tether themselves to others, forcing a connection. Rapid-fire talking, or noise in general, isn’t a conversation; to them, it can feel like survival. And for the unlucky listener being held captive by the constant stream of words, it’s more colloquially known as dealing with an “energy vampire.”

When we don’t have human-to-human contact, it can even become worse. In the age of anonymous social media fights and meme-based arguments, speech feels more like a tumbleweed, bouncing aimlessly across a desert of disconnection. Detached from our bodies and the moment, our words become empty vessels or, to borrow another charming metaphor, cognitive vomit. Why do so many of us, when unseen and quasi-anonymous on social media, suddenly feel compelled to share our thoughts, firm beliefs, and forceful viewpoints?

What if, in this New Year of 2025, we slowed down? What if, as Shepherd suggests, speech was experienced as one of our primary senses and came from the entirety of our being? Not just our minds and curtly out our throats or wielding thumbs, but from our bellies, our pelvises, even our legs? What if words weren’t tossed out like grenades brusquely or fishhooks to quell internal anxieties but instead, delivered as gifts, whole and intentional, vibrating with the essence of who we are?

Think about someone who is embodied in their speech. You’ve seen them; they don’t waver, no matter the circumstances. They can stand at a podium, hecklers in the crowd, and their voice doesn’t falter. It’s not about volume or charisma; it’s about alignment. Their words come from someplace deeper, rooted in the core of their being. Their speech is felt. And as the listener, you get a sense of them—not just their ideas, but them.

Contrast that with what most of us are doing these days. Talking face-to-face, throwing words into a void, watching others dart their gaze everywhere but toward the connection we are trying to make. Or, on social media, we fling words around like spaghetti at the wall, hoping something sticks. When we’re mad or tired or scrolling at midnight, speech becomes cheap, reckless, and utterly detached from our bodies, our intentions, and our impact. It’s no wonder we’ve become so skilled at miscommunication and misinformation.

To reclaim speech as a sense, we have to bring it back home—to the body. And yes, this means slowing down, which is the least sexy suggestion I could make in a world that glorifies speed. But slowing down means we start to feel the words as we speak them. It’s not just a thought or a sound; it’s a vibration moving through us.

Shepherd writes, “Graham Wallas was pointing to this when he wrote: ‘The little girl had the making of a poet in her who, being told to be sure of her meaning before she spoke, said, ‘How can I know what I think till I see what I say?’ A sentence spoken in conversation is an improvisation—who knows at the outset what the last word of it will be?—and it is generally moved forward by a desire to elucidate a thought that may be no more than half-sensed as the sentence gets under way. Each word or phrase serves to light the way forward for the next; like stepping stones they trace out the full shape of that thought. In that regard, speaking is analogous to the sense of touch: it enables you to feel your way forward through the metaphoric dark towards a beckoning idea, just as your hands might enable you to find your way forward in a dark room. So speech can be though of as a sense that facilitates discovery. When you understand it in that way, the whole of your being is invited to be present to your act of speaking.”

This is a long quote, which typically I would summarize, but I think he just nails it perfectly. Mindful speech, or right speech as it’s called in Buddhism, takes on new depth when we think of it this way. It’s not just about speaking mindfully, kindly, compassionately, or truthfully, it’s about speaking embodied. It’s about letting your whole self, mind, body, and soul, join the conversation.

And let me be clear, this isn’t about perfection. We’re going to mess it up and fumble through it. We all will. Changing any habit can be shaky at first. But what if we aim to get it right, as in “right speech,” instead of perfect? Right, as in connected, intentional, mindful, what is right in action.

As we step into the new year, I invite you to experiment with this idea of embodied speech. Speak as though your words are rooted in your feet, your pelvis, your belly, your heart. Speak not to prove a point but to reinforce your existence, not in an egotistical way, but in a way that honors your wholeness. It is an outward expression of YOU. All of you and fundamentally who you are to your core. It is a way to let others “discover” you. All of you and fundamentally who you are to your core. (worth repeating😉)

It might feel awkward at first. It might feel slow. But what if, instead of rushing to fill the silence, you let the silence (or pauses on the social media comments) help you feel what needs to be said next? If anything, at all. What if your words became an act of discovery to let the listener really know you, really see you, really understand you? This might just invoke a sincere connection, not just with the listener, but also with yourself.

This year, let’s speak from the body. From the heart. From the whole being. And when we fail, as we inevitably will, let’s pick up and try again.

Because the world doesn’t need more tumbleweeds or grenades. It needs words that are alive, rooted, whole, and felt.

Speech experienced as a sense might just quietly reinforce the very connection we’ve been longing for, guiding us back to the unity we need to mend the fractures of disconnection we have all felt.

Happy New Year!

Be Here. And Be Now.

Warmly, Jen