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The Inner and Outer Landscape

I’ve long been aware that some of my deepest experiences of movement happen when I stop relying on my physical eyes. Whether I’m immersed in a movement practice, singing, or dancing, I naturally find myself closing my eyes. Until recently, I couldn’t fully explain why.

ENERGY AWARENESS

Majeeda Tatum-Anderson

2 min read

person covering the eyes of woman on dark room
person covering the eyes of woman on dark room

I’ve long been aware that some of my deepest experiences of movement happen when I stop relying on my physical eyes. Whether I’m immersed in a movement practice, singing, or dancing, I naturally find myself closing my eyes. Until recently, I couldn’t fully explain why.

During a recent chiropractic appointment, I was shown images of my body’s alignment. My chiropractor pointed out areas of compensation in my hips, shoulders, and the tilt of my head. She explained that my head had begun tilting because of a recent shoulder injury. With my injured deltoid causing my shoulder to drop, my brain compensated by adjusting my head position so my eyes could continue to perceive the horizon as level.

I found that absolutely fascinating.

The moment I closed my eyes, I could immediately feel the tilt in my head. When my eyes were open, I couldn’t perceive it at all. My visual system had been overriding what my body was actually experiencing.

Excited, I said to my chiropractor, “This validates something I’ve been teaching for years. I tell my students that the physical eyes cannot guide them through the inner landscape. If you want to truly look within, close your eyes.”

Our eyes are extraordinary tools for navigating the external world, but they can also dominate our attention, drawing us away from the subtle information arising from within. Inner awareness, balance, and alignment often become clearer when visual input is softened or removed.

It reminds me of learning to ride a motorcycle. My instructor taught us to look where we wanted to go rather than at the obstacle we wanted to avoid. Our gaze naturally guided the body, allowing the motorcycle to lean into the turn with ease. Where we placed our attention shaped our movement.

I experience something similar inwardly. When I quiet my dependence on physical sight—and sometimes this doesn’t even require closing my eyes—I discover an inner landscape with its own intelligence. Invisible pathways begin to reveal themselves. They guide my movement, my breath, and often my next step. By listening in this way, I not only become more aware of my own internal landscape, but I can also perceive the subtle patterns and pathways within others.

Perhaps the greatest vision isn’t always found through the eyes.

When it’s safe to do so, spend a few moments with your eyes closed. Notice what changes. Notice what becomes perceptible when the external world grows quiet.

You may discover that some things can only be seen from within.