What Does It Really Mean to Listen to Your Body?
A reflection on movement, body confidence, and the meeting point between physiotherapy and yoga.
By Mauricio Aguilera | Science · Yoga · Mindful Movement
Questioning What We Think We Know
Hello, and welcome to this space!
I'm truly glad you're here.
My name is Mauricio Aguilera. I'm a physiotherapist and yoga teacher, and I created this space to share questions, experiences, discoveries, and knowledge that might inspire us to relate to our bodies in new ways.
Throughout my journey, I've discovered that learning about the body involves much more than understanding anatomy, improving physical abilities, or refining a technique. It also means cultivating curiosity, acknowledging our experiences, and recognizing that every person carries a unique history, with individual needs, circumstances, and possibilities.
Here, you'll find reflections on physiotherapy, movement science, yoga, and body awareness. Some will emerge from my professional experience; others from my personal practice, the teachings that have shaped my journey, and the questions that arise through working with students and patients.
My intention isn't to offer definitive answers for everyone. Rather, I hope to open conversations that encourage us to learn, question our assumptions, and develop a more compassionate and confident relationship with our bodies.
I want this to be a space where we can explore, understand, and choose.
And what better place to begin than with a question that sounds simple, yet opens the door to so many possibilities?
What does it really mean to listen to our bodies?
There's a question I hear frequently, both in my yoga classes and during physiotherapy sessions:
“What's the best exercise for my back pain?”
And I completely understand why people ask.
When something hurts, worries us, or limits our daily activities, it's natural to want a clear answer. Something specific we can do to feel better.
Sometimes, it seems we're hoping to hear:
“Oh, absolutely! Just do this exercise.”
Social media has accustomed us to answers like these: three exercises to eliminate pain, five postures we should avoid, or one technique that supposedly works for everyone.
But the human body is far more fascinating and complex than that.
Not Every Body Needs the Same Answer
We've become accustomed to generalizing physical conditions, symptoms, and experiences, as though everything could be explained with a simple yes or no.
Is this posture good or bad?
Should I stretch or strengthen?
Is it normal for this to hurt?
Am I performing this movement correctly?
These are entirely valid questions. However, answering them responsibly often requires understanding more than the symptom or the exercise itself.
Behind every question is a person with a unique story.
Our health history, biological characteristics, previous experiences, emotions, beliefs, daily activities, social environment, and even financial circumstances can influence how we experience our health and which options are available to us.
Two people may experience pain in the same area of the body and still benefit from very different approaches.
That's why, before rushing to provide an answer, I often prefer to ask another question.
What have you experienced so far?
Which activities would you like to return to?
What happens when you move?
What do you need right now?
These questions aren't meant to make simple things complicated. They're meant to help us understand what's actually happening.
Because a meaningful recommendation depends not only on knowing the exercise, but also on understanding the person who might benefit from it.
What Does It Really Mean to Listen to Your Body?
We often hear the invitation:
“Listen to your body.”
It's an expression I appreciate deeply, but I also believe it's worth exploring what it actually means.
Does listening to our bodies mean always doing whatever we feel like doing?
Does it mean avoiding every uncomfortable movement?
Does it mean relying exclusively on intuition?
Not necessarily.
Our sensations are valuable sources of information, but they don't always tell us, on their own, exactly what's happening or what we need to do.
Pain, for example, is a complex experience. It doesn't function as a precise measurement of tissue damage. Biological, psychological, and social processes can all influence how pain is experienced.
Similarly, finding a posture challenging doesn't automatically mean it's harmful. And feeling comfortable in a movement doesn't guarantee that it's appropriate under every circumstance.
Listening to the body is a process of observation, learning, and interpretation.
It involves recognizing our sensations while learning to relate them to our knowledge, experiences, and circumstances.
Sometimes we may need rest. At other times, we might benefit from gradually increasing movement, developing strength, modifying an activity, or seeking professional guidance.
Listening to the body doesn't replace knowledge. It can become richer through it.
And perhaps there's another dimension worth considering: listening isn't always about receiving an immediate answer.
Sometimes it's about creating enough space to notice what we've been overlooking.
In my personal yoga practice, I've discovered that this kind of listening can become a form of meditation. Not necessarily through complete stillness, but through attentive movement, breath, rhythm, and the changing sensations of being alive.
We can learn to listen while moving.
And we can learn to move while listening.
Between Physiotherapy and Yoga
As a physiotherapist and yoga teacher, I've found that these two disciplines offer distinct yet complementary ways of approaching the body and movement.
Physiotherapy has taught me to observe, assess, and reason clinically. It has provided tools for understanding anatomy, physiology, recovery processes, and the importance of making decisions informed by scientific evidence.
Yoga, meanwhile, has invited me to explore other dimensions of embodied experience.
Through movement, breathing, attention, and sustained practice, I've learned to observe how we relate to our bodies and how that relationship can evolve over time.
One of the most meaningful influences on my practice and teaching has been the work of Shiva Rea, particularly her Fluid Power approach within Prana Vinyasa.
Through these teachings, I've come to appreciate movement not merely as a sequence of physical positions, but as an ongoing relationship between breath, rhythm, energy, attention, and the changing circumstances of life.
Rather than focusing exclusively on achieving a final posture, we can explore the journey toward it: the transitions, the possibilities that emerge along the way, and the ways our experience changes from one moment to the next.
This invitation to explore has been especially meaningful to me.
For many years, I practiced within a more structured approach to yoga. That experience gave me discipline and a foundation I continue to value. Over time, however, I began to appreciate how structure could also create space for freedom, creativity, and intuition.
One teaching from Shiva has stayed with me:
“Let the structure guide your freedom.”
I love this idea because it reminds me that structure doesn't necessarily have to restrict us. When approached with awareness, it can become a framework for discovering possibilities.
As a physiotherapist, I value understanding the principles that organize movement, the capacities it requires, and the demands it may place on each individual.
As a yoga practitioner and teacher, I'm equally interested in creating spaces where we can experience those possibilities with curiosity and attention.
I don't believe physiotherapy and yoga explain the body in the same way, nor do I consider their forms of knowledge interchangeable.
What interests me is recognizing what each discipline can contribute from its own foundations.
And somewhere within that meeting point, I've discovered something that now guides the way I accompany others:
It's not simply about finding the right movement. It's about understanding the person who is moving.
From the Correct Movement to the Movement That's Possible
In many environments related to exercise, rehabilitation, and yoga, we've learned to search for the correct way to do things.
The ideal posture.
The perfect alignment.
The most effective exercise.
The technique we're supposed to follow.
And while technique, biomechanics, and general recommendations can be valuable tools, there's a risk when we turn them into absolute rules.
We may begin relating to our bodies as though there's always something that needs correcting.
As though we constantly require someone else's approval to know whether we're doing things properly.
But what if we used knowledge to expand our possibilities rather than limit our exploration?
A yoga posture, for example, can be approached through different variations or kramas.
Each variation changes the demands placed on strength, mobility, balance, or coordination.
And each person's learning and adaptation unfold through their own rhythms and timing, dimensions that can also be explored through the yogic concepts of tala and kala.
Rather than asking only which variation is correct, we might explore:
What's the intention behind this movement?
What changes when I adjust my position?
Which option responds best to my current abilities?
What can I learn from this experience?
This doesn't mean every option is equally appropriate, or that we should ignore physical limitations.
It means we can learn to use technique as a tool for developing discernment rather than as a constant source of insecurity.
Adaptation doesn't have to be understood as an inferior version of movement. It can be a valuable, informed choice.
This perspective has also transformed the way I think about teaching.
I've had the privilege of sharing movement with people of different ages, backgrounds, abilities, and life circumstances. Each person arrives with a different history and a different relationship with their body.
Sometimes accompanying someone means offering a gentle, accessible practice.
Sometimes it means encouraging them to explore strength, coordination, or a possibility they hadn't considered before.
And sometimes it simply means creating a space where they can notice what is already present.
One of the deepest lessons I've received through my practice is that the goal isn't necessarily to help someone achieve a particular asana.
It's to help them feel more at home in their own body.
Explore, Understand, and Choose
There are three actions I love bringing into the way I teach and accompany movement.
Explore
Give ourselves permission to experience different possibilities while respecting our capacities, needs, and circumstances.
Exploration doesn't mean moving without direction or ignoring signals that deserve attention.
It means maintaining an attitude of curiosity that allows us to discover alternatives and expand our resources.
In yoga, this curiosity can become a living form of meditation.
Through breath, movement, rhythm, and attention, we can cultivate presence without needing to remain completely still.
Movement itself can become an opportunity to observe, discover, and connect.
Understand
Learn about our bodies, recognize patterns, understand the intention behind exercises, and relate our sensations to useful information.
Understanding also means acknowledging that we won't always have every answer and that sometimes professional assessment is necessary.
It involves remaining open to learning, including the possibility that what worked for us yesterday may not be exactly what we need today.
Choose
Develop the tools to make more informed decisions about our practice and well-being.
Choose when to progress, when to adapt, when to rest, and when to seek support.
For me, these three actions belong to the same ongoing process.
Confidence in movement doesn't come from doing everything perfectly. It grows through experiences, knowledge, and resources that help us develop a more autonomous relationship with our bodies.
And perhaps this is where structure and freedom meet: in our growing ability to make thoughtful choices while remaining receptive to the changing rhythms of life.
An Invitation to Explore Your Own Experience
I'd like to offer you a simple exploration.
The next time you engage in physical activity, practice yoga, or simply stand up after sitting for a while, take a few moments to observe your experience.
You don't need to change anything immediately.
You might begin by asking yourself:
How am I feeling today, before I begin?
What sensations arise as I move?
What changes if I adjust the speed, range, or effort?
What would help me approach this activity with greater confidence?
What have I learned about myself through this movement?
You don't need to find a perfect answer.
The intention is simply to begin recognizing that your experience can also offer valuable information.
Over time, this kind of observation may help you identify possibilities, communicate your needs more clearly, and participate more actively in decisions related to your movement.
And remember: listening to your body also means recognizing when persistent, intense, or concerning symptoms deserve professional assessment.
Movement Is Also a Way of Getting to Know Ourselves
Today, I understand movement as something much broader than a collection of exercises or postures.
It's a capacity that allows us to participate in everyday life, connect with our surroundings, express ourselves, and discover new possibilities.
Through Prana Vinyasa, I've also come to appreciate that our practice doesn't end when we step off the mat.
The way we respond to challenges, adapt to change, honor our need for rest, and care for ourselves and others can become part of a greater practice of awareness.
In this sense, listening to the body is not only about movement.
It's also about how we inhabit our lives.
As a physiotherapist and yoga teacher, my intention isn't to make people dependent on someone who constantly tells them what to do.
I want to accompany them in developing the confidence, understanding, and resources to explore and make choices for themselves.
I think of this as tending a flame rather than trying to become the source of someone else's light.
We can offer guidance, knowledge, encouragement, and support while remembering that each person carries their own capacity for discovery.
I don't pretend to have all the answers.
I want to keep learning, asking better questions, and sharing what I discover along the way.
Because perhaps listening to the body isn't about finding one definitive answer.
Perhaps it's about cultivating a more attentive, informed, compassionate, and flexible relationship with ourselves.
And remembering that movement, too, is a way of getting to know who we are.
Thank you for being here. ❤️🔥
What would you like to explore or better understand about your body and the way you move?
With warmth,
Mauricio Aguilera
Physiotherapy · Yoga · Mindful Movement
This article is intended for educational purposes and personal exploration. It does not replace an individualized physiotherapy or medical assessment.
Inspiration and Further Reading
This reflection draws inspiration from Shiva Rea's Fluid Power and Prana Vinyasa teachings, alongside concepts from proprioception, interoception, exercise physiology, biomechanics, and contemporary pain education.
References
Rea, S. (n.d.). Fluid Power: Prana Vinyasa Flow teacher training manual. [Training manual].
López Chicharro, J., & Fernández Vaquero, A. (2023). Fisiología del ejercicio (4th ed.). Editorial Médica Panamericana.
Kisner, C., Borstad, J., & Colby, L. A. (2023). Therapeutic Exercise: Foundations and Techniques (8th ed.). F. A. Davis Company.
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