7+ senses

The infopack said: The 7+ senses: Exploring Sensory Awareness as the Foundation for Emotional Resilience was an Erasmus+ Training Course that happened 11. - 19. June 2025 in Smolnik, Slovenia. It was designed to deepen our understanding of sensory awareness as a tool for resilience, connection, and well-being. Through somatic work, dance and voice improvisation and ecopsychology, we explored the expanded senses, beyond the traditional five and refine their ability to attune to ourselves, others, and nature. By integrating practices of deep listening, presence, and embodied awareness, this training supports the development of skills for emotional resiliance and sensory intelligence in times of change. This project explored how to cultivate a more connected, responsive, and resilient society, where individuals develop the skills to navigate uncertainty with greater ease and adaptability. And I could not describe it better myself. But, how would be the training if it was a poem?

7+ senses

SINKIN IN

Travel as a smooth transition from one reality to another. Suddenly being somebody else, some other version of me at un unknown place.

Being body, flesh, and breath, instead of mind and thoughts. My feet start to root, expanding in a stray, yet so familiar land. To remind me where I came from but also to what to reconnect inside.

To this firm calmness and stillness, to this gentleness and tender. To remind me who I am, who I always be, just by breathing the different, yet the same air.

At one moment to be so small to hide my beauty in a grass, in another to fly high in the ocean of the air, with my wings spread having steady overview.

Always know, always remember, there is a guardian tree, the wisdom of ancestors with me.

Stepping over a threshold not knowing where and to what, just being sure this is the right way. This is the right way!

Trying to see without gazing, trying to heat without listening. Whisper my name as my last breath, having ita echo in the voices of the community.

Sinking in…

There is no life without paying attention to the details; there is no love without sensitivity and tenderness.

***

FOR THE FIRST TIME

How to find my own voice, when my head forgets? When what is left is just silence?

How to find my own melody, when my chest forgets? When what is left is just echo?

And then, a soundtrack of my life appears. So different from what I expected, so I laugh.

Music starts and my body parts move, in a natural flow way. Exploring what all they can do.

Meeting other eyes, other hands. Sometimes we give high five to others, sometimes to ourselves.

Touching without touch, seeing with my eyes closed. Enjoying the movement and the stillness.

***

PIECES OF BROKEN GLASS

At which place do I feel good, that I belong, that this is the place? Do I feel the same at home?

What beings, creatures, connections bind me with the land. Will the stretch or will they break, when I would go away?

Which movement, direction, conversation, or duty serves me well? And which one are here just to distract me?

Witnessing what other people did brings me strength and inspiration. Hearing not only their heroic stories, but also their doubts and fears.

Look inside, look outside, expand your vision. How far left or right can you see?

Is the darkness different, when your eyes are covered with your own soft palms?

What the trees, the flowers, the wind, even the sun would say, if they would have a voice?

What would they say about myself? How would they describe my shape, my being, my spirit?

***

AS A NEW-BORN CHILD

I love when my skin is touched by the sun, so gentle and warm. Like a fire in a cold day, like a blanked.

It tickles, prologue muscles, squeeze and release. Give touch, receive touch. Pinch back with fingers on my feet as a cat. Walking on Earth as a new-born child, with feet light and sensitive.

How can I support the wall with my touch?

And how can a wall support me?

Do I need my seventh sense, or its consent?

***

I WISH

I wish to be connected even in times of vulnerability, or disconnection.

I wish to know, how the upper leaves of the tree taste…

If like I would taste the eternal Love from hands of Eros, perhaps.

I wish to know how to touch people, and be touched back, in a nurturing and gentle way.

I wish to go on a journey for loving every inch of my skin, every smile, every tear.

I wish to love my vulnerability to connect me with a tenderness of an Eternal love, to taste it every moment of my life.

***

UNINVITED VISITOR

I received a visitor, not invited, but yet bringing so much joy and calmness.

It was small and beautiful, yet undefeated explorer.

With all its trust and gentleness it came to me, to just be. Not wanting anything, not showing of, just be.

A butterfly arrived to my feet when I was having a breakfast outdoors this morning. Not caring what I was having on my plate, how many sips of coffee I have already had.

Just came to me to be, to remind me to also just be. Enjoy the beauty of a sunny mornings. To remind me what beauty it is to just be in stillness.

***

GIVE WEITH

All my weight is given on the back of another person. Sharing just touch of our backs.

Staying still, finding a mutual balance. Slowly starting to move like a breeze still leaning.

Forward, backward, left, right. Tiny moves on my head. Oh, I can feel hair of my partner itching my neck.

Just resting with my head on the shoulder of the other. Moving from one side to another.

Still sharing our weight, our touch. When was the last time somebody touched my ear with their ear?

Slowly finding our way to the ground, rooting, gaining security.

Our time together is over, but memory stays.

***

MELODY OF MY HEART

What is the melody of my heart? How can I express it? How can I tune it with another hearts?

Stay true to myself! Stay authentic! Tell your truth, tell your guts, tell everything and nothing… they said.

Who will listen to it then? And from those who will hear will understand?

Keep the melody in your ears, in your feet, in your heart. That is the only way to be yourself.

Even, if others will not listen, or either understand. Keep the melody of your heart to yourself. Like that nobody can hurt you.

***

VOICE

Was it me who wanted to control the fire, always too precautious about accidents or using too much resources? Or who was talking through my lips to not to put new logs in the flames?

And who made me stop telling other people when trying to feed the fire? Who told me to stand by m words for the first three attempts, and then allow it by the forth one?

And who was it talking than to explain my reasons to three men, and listening them to accept, when with another one, a woman, I could not?

Who was the one telling to not to film too much, that there will be too much material to cut afterwards? When I had no idea how was filmed already and understand, how much is “too much material to cut”?

Who was the one interrupting the flow of another, without having a clue, but just giving a voice to my own concerns? Who’s was that voice, if not mine? And where, where was my own voice than?

***

TO REST

After many days of sun and heat, a rain came. Even a thunderstorm at one moment. To tell me rest, tp tell me to stop and nurture my inner space, as the water nurture the plant.

To tell me, it is okay to stay in my bed for another while, and to just enjoy the cosiness of the sheets.

To remind me that I can be the rain for other people, in their hot and thirsty moments. That I have the ability to help, support, bring freshness, or even stillness when everything stops to take a breath, with me.

***

WELCOME

After remembering many memories from my childhood, with my grandparents, parents, scouts, also unpleasant and uninvited memories arrived.

But I did not push them away, or suppressed them, as usual. But I let them come closer… “Welcome, you creepy, ugly voice. Welcome.” And another, and another.

“You are all welcome to be part of my World, to be part of myself. Because you are the once making my empathy deeper, and my understanding clearer.”

And they stayed, forever. To remind me, that in mistakes we learn, and in misfortune we grow.

***

COULD I BE THE SAME?

Seven days older than when I arrived I am coming to the place where it all began.

Who am I? Who is this person observing me from a reflection of a window?

Skin dark as a chicory coffee, eyes deeper like a pond with a duck and three ducklings, legs stronger, dirty with dust.

But also some bruises and scratches appeared on my body. On my arms, legs, and belly.

Old wounds becoming part of me, as well as new memories. All emerged in one being.

What are the connection I carry with me now, and how my own abilities are mirroring in those?

And which treasures from my ancestors I do have an access now? To which gens and hidden superpowers I obtain?

How could I be the same as when I arrived, when so much, yet little happened?

Living together, eating together, working together, breathing together… Surrounded by nature, sky and Love.

***

The project was co-funded by Erasmus+ programme.