Health & Wellness with Lady Flava

When the Body Remembers What the Mind Didn’t Learn Yet

The older I get, the more I notice something interesting happening.

My body speaks up before my mind catches on.

I move a little slower now. I listen a little closer. And instead of pushing through discomfort the way I used to, I pause and ask, “What do you need?” That question alone has changed everything.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my Japanese heritage and how, when I was younger, I didn’t spend much time understanding it. Not from rejection—just life. Raising kids. Working. Surviving. Being strong because I had to be.

But here’s what I’m realizing now…

Even without the language, my body remembered.

I recently listened to a video about traditional Japanese self-care—not the trendy kind with products and promises, but the everyday kind woven into how people live. Simple practices. Warmth. Stillness. Gentle movement. Creating space. Letting the body soften instead of staying armored all the time.

As I listened, something clicked.

I wasn’t discovering new ideas—I was recognizing familiar ones.

Every day, I wrap warmth around my midsection. I call it Cozy.

Not because it’s cute—because it works.

Keeping my core warm softens everything.

My digestion.

My muscles.

My hips.

My breath.

It tells my nervous system, you’re safe.

And when the body feels safe, it stops bracing.

Healing doesn’t rush in—it quietly settles.

I’ve also learned to move without force.

Purposeful movement instead of powering through.

Walking without wincing.

Honoring rest without guilt.

Creating space in my day instead of filling every moment.

This kind of care isn’t about fixing what’s broken.

It’s about not creating harm in the first place.

Japanese wellness, at its heart, is quiet. It respects rhythm. It understands that tension held too long turns into pain—and that softness isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom.

As a way of honoring my heritage and my desire to learn more, I want to acknowledge the practices from the video that resonated with me. Seeing their names gave language to things my body already understands.

Japanese Self-Care Practices I’m Learning About

These are not trends or checklists. They are ways of living—intentional, gentle, and rooted in daily life.

Kuki no Irekae — Air Exchange Refreshing the body and home by letting old air move out. A reminder that stagnation affects how we feel.

Misogi — Water Ritual Using water for cleansing and renewal, both physically and mentally.

Tentō-sama — The Sun’s Watch Acknowledging the sun as a guide for rhythm, energy, and gratitude.

Sōji — The Monk’s Sweep Cleaning as a mindful act—clearing space to quiet the mind.

Onkatsu — Cultivating Internal Warmth Keeping the core warm to support digestion, circulation, and muscle relaxation. This practice speaks deeply to me.

Junan — Softening the Armor Releasing physical and emotional tension instead of living in constant bracing.

Shosa — The Art of Motion Moving with intention and grace, rather than rushing or forcing.

Danshari — Letting Go Releasing what no longer serves—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Ichigo Ichie — One Moment, One Meeting Honoring each moment as unique and unrepeatable.

Shinrin-yoku — Forest Bathing Spending time in nature to calm the nervous system and restore balance.

Ma — Necessary Empty Space Creating pauses and space, understanding that emptiness has purpose.

Kōdō — Listening to Incense Using scent to ground awareness and invite presence.

Kotodama — The Spirit of Words Recognizing that words carry energy—what we say matters.

Morishio — The Salt Shield Using salt symbolically for purification, grounding, and protection.

Hara — The Center of Being The lower abdomen as the seat of balance, strength, and emotional stability.

Tōji — Healing Soak Bathing to warm the body, soothe the joints, and quiet the mind.

Omoiyari — Invisible Compassion Thoughtful awareness of others without needing recognition—kindness that doesn’t announce itself.

I wish I had understood more of this when I was younger.

But I also believe awareness arrives exactly when it’s meant to.

Now, I’m listening.

Now, I’m honoring my body instead of pushing it.

Now, I’m learning the language for practices I’ve already been living.

This season of life isn’t about doing more.

It’s about doing what heals.

And maybe that, too, is part of my heritage—remembered not through perfection or performance, but through the quiet intelligence of the body itself.

— Lady Flava