The Prism Perspective: Your Sense of Knowing🧠
Amy Bonaduce-Gardner | FEB 25
Hi Friends,
For the experienced body mappers, you already know the drill: place your attention on your points of location, and then you must wait. You wait for information to reveal itself. Sometimes it shows up as a recognizable movement pattern. Sometimes it arrives as a quiet sense of knowing—intuition in the same way your mom somehow knows you’ve been up to no good.
If you persist, things eventually shift. Maybe the movement pattern flips completely. Those spontaneous organic changes in the way you are sitting or lying on the floor that are so obvious they can’t be missed are fun! Perhaps you even know exactly where the points of location are, instead of just trusting that your unconscious brain will figure it out.
Or maybe it's something on the esoteric side. Maybe your sense of "knowing" deepened. Perhaps there's no second guessing that you know despite the fact you have no idea how you know.
And sometimes…nothing. Either because not enough has changed in order for it to surface to your level of awareness, or it has and something is between you and knowing.
Sometimes those moments are when we get in our own way. And this can take on many forms:
You think you can't tell what's happening often because you don't trust yourself.
You try to be the good student and search for what’s logical or “correct” instead of what’s real.
The fear of the unknown keeps you from surrendering to the process.
You sense something might surface that you don’t feel “ready” to meet, so you avoid or flee.
Control feels safer than curiosity.
Change threatens the story you’ve been living in and the responsibility that comes with rewriting it.
Change may mean your identity must also change.
You are fixated on a specific outcome.

But to see the truth in the world inside of us allows us to also see the truth in the world outside of us. And our nervous system reflects our capacity to receive this detailed information, both inside & out.
When I’m in a sympathetic state, my ability to take in full, rich sensory detail is compromised. My structure—bones, fascia, muscles, and brain—ensures this. If my system stays dominantly sympathetic, my brain maps lose accuracy. My unconscious brain starts filling in the gaps to make sense of reality. This is where stories begin. In extremes, this becomes cognitive distortion.
The sympathetic state can protect us from what we are not ready to see about ourselves. But if I gently peel back the edges—if I trust that my nervous system is always acting in my best interest—something softens. Slowly, my system learns that I am ready to face the harder truths. That I don’t need every layer of protection. That I am safe.
What if we were to float downstream. Find acceptance. Yield. Jump into the deep end of the pool. Throw caution to the wind.
What if I choose to not diminish my sensory input? Scary, sure. At least at first. But imagine the world that becomes available when I stop narrowing my perception and start receiving it all.
And the next time I ask you, "where's your {insert any body part here}?", instead of saying I don't know, just blurt out your answer. I triple dog dare you. 😉
Onwards, Amy
It’s bi-weekly, not clingy, and I solemnly swear I won’t sell you socks, supplements, or soul crystals.
Content is this email is for entertainment and educational purposes only. It is not medical advice or a replacement for therapy. This is, unapologetically, Amy’s soapbox. If something here struck a nerve, chances are you helped spark it—so own your part. The musings won’t last forever, but while they do, consider them an invitation to reflect, laugh, or squirm a little.
Amy Bonaduce-Gardner | FEB 25
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