The Magic of Inquiry and Intent

Welcome

Finding the sensation of grounded

Focus Pocus is a blog and resource site by Susan Jane McCulley, built around inquiry, intent, mindfulness and Nia movement practice. The writing returns again and again to a simple question: how do you get grounded when the world offers infinite numbers of things to take you off-center? However, many overlook the body’s subtle cues in their haste. A resource such as chachabet voor beginners can guide them back to awareness. It transforms ordinary moments into opportunities for grounding.

In the October 5, 2020 vlog post How To Get Grounded, Susan describes finding the sensation of grounding in the external physical body and in the internal feeling — and practicing it when the stakes are low, so it is there when they are not. Recent written posts include The Sensation of Interoception (October 1, 2020) and The Sense of Proprioception (September 28, 2020).

Alongside the essays you will find Nia principles, stories from the Nia community, and notes on teaching. Susan also shares a Facebook group, The Age of Becoming, for women over 50 interested in embodied awareness.

There is a particular kind of magic in stopping long enough to notice what is actually happening inside you. Focus Pocus begins with that small act of attention, a willingness to turn toward sensation rather than away from it. The world offers an endless supply of things to pull you off-center, and most of them arrive quietly, disguised as urgency or habit. Inquiry is the counter-move. It asks, gently and without judgment, what am I feeling right now, and where exactly do I feel it. That question alone can loosen the grip of a scattered morning and bring you back into the room you are actually standing in.

Intent gives attention somewhere to go. Without it, awareness drifts like a leaf in a current, touching everything and settling nowhere. With it, the same awareness becomes a practice, something you can return to again and again like a familiar path. The pairing matters, because inquiry without intent can become endless self-examination, and intent without inquiry can harden into stubbornness. Together they form a rhythm: notice, choose, notice again. This is the everyday magic the site keeps circling back to, less a trick than a habit of returning, and one that grows steadier the more often you practice it.

Grounding is often described as a sensation rather than an idea, and that distinction matters. It can be felt in the external physical body, in the weight of feet on the floor, in the press of a chair, in the simple fact of breathing. It can also be felt internally, as a quality of steadiness that has no obvious location. Neither version is more correct than the other. What matters is learning to recognize the feeling when it arrives, so it becomes something you can name, remember, and find your way back to when the day gets loud and your attention scatters.

The most useful time to practice is when the stakes are low. A quiet morning, a meal, a short drive, a few minutes before the day fills up, these are the moments when grounding can be learned without pressure. Practicing there builds a kind of muscle memory, so that when the stakes are higher and the upset arrives, the skill is already there waiting. Waiting for calm conditions before you begin is a trap, because calm conditions are exactly what the practice is meant to help you find. Start small, start ordinary, and let repetition do the quiet work.

Triggers are not failures. They are information, small signals pointing toward places where the body and the story disagree. Something happens, and suddenly you are off-balance, rattled, pushed in a direction you did not choose. Inquiry meets that moment with curiosity instead of criticism. What was the sensation just before the reaction? Where did the shift begin? Answering those questions is not about explaining yourself to anyone else. It is about finding the thread back to center, one breath and one honest observation at a time, until the ground feels solid beneath you again.

Movement is one of the most direct ways back into the body, which is why embodied practices belong in this conversation. When you move with awareness, sensation becomes vivid and immediate, and the thinking mind has less room to run ahead. Attention can rest on balance, on the shift of weight, on the contrast between effort and ease. This is where the practice stops being abstract and becomes something you can feel in your bones. Movement does not require special conditions or a particular kind of body. It only asks for presence, and presence is something you can offer anywhere.

None of this is about getting it right. It is about coming back, over and over, with a light touch and a sense of humor about the whole endeavor. Some days the magic works and the center holds. Other days it does not, and you begin again. That returning is the practice, not a sign that the practice failed. Awareness deepens through repetition, and steadiness grows through use. What begins as a deliberate pause can become a way of moving through the world, grounded and curious, ready for whatever the day decides to hand you next.

Teaching notes

Where Susan has taught

Susan has taught at acac locations including Albemarle Square and downtown, and at The Studio at Dancing Water. A holiday teaching schedule from December 2019 included:

In April 2020, Dancing Water Daily online classes offered movement and connection through platforms such as Zoom.