Most people weren’t raised by parents who knew how to attune — not because those parents were bad, but because their parents didn’t attune either. Generations of people never learned this skill. The implication is simple and freeing: if you didn’t grow up “speaking attunement,” you wouldn’t know how to attune, just as you wouldn’t know Russian if nobody spoke it around you. It’s nobody’s fault.

“If you didn’t grow up speaking attunement, how would you know to attune?”

The practice begins with baby steps: attuning to your hands, breath, and body at a stoplight. Noticing your feet, your heartbeat, the temperature of air through your nostrils. Building this muscle in low-stakes moments so that when a partner comes at you in anger, you might — after forgetting the first twenty times — remember to check in with yourself before reacting.

For sensitive children, the body itself can feel uncomfortable to inhabit, which makes returning to it through attunement feel like going back to something awkward. The path home is slow and requires compassion for the discomfort.

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