As we begin to “fly closer to the flame of Love,” many people notice very real physical sensations—warmth moving through the chest or spine, gentle trembling, waves of emotion, tears without a clear story, deep stillness, or an unexpected lightness in the body. Scripture already names this bodily knowing of God: the disciples on the road to Emmaus ask, “Were not our hearts burning within us?” (Luke 24:32), and at Pentecost the Spirit comes not as an idea but as fire resting on real human bodies (Acts 2:1–4). Love, in the biblical imagination, does not stay abstract—it enters the nervous system.
In the language of Kundalini, such experiences are often described as awakened life-energy becoming perceptible in the body—felt as heat, subtle currents, pressure, or spontaneous changes in breathing. Breath practices across contemplative traditions help us notice what is already happening: as the breath softens and slows, long-held tension releases, and spiritual awareness is often registered as tingling, warmth, pulsing, or spaciousness.
Sufi mystics speak of ishq—burning love for God—in which the heart becomes a furnace and the body itself joins remembrance (dhikr). Swaying, trembling, tears, and a sudden tenderness in the chest are not treated as distractions, but as signs that the Beloved is drawing the whole person—body and soul—into nearness.
The desert mystics observed the same descent of prayer from the head into the heart. Writers such as Evagrius and John Cassian describe prayer settling into the body as deep stillness, warmth in the chest, a softened belly, and a luminous, attentive quiet. For them, this was not spiritual excitement, but the slow re-ordering of the whole human person in God.
There is also a deeper meaning often hidden inside these sensations. Across traditions, they are understood as God’s way of getting our attention—not to impress us, but to remind us who we truly are. In biblical language, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” (1 Corinthians 6:19). The human person is the dwelling place of God. In Jewish and Christian imagery, the body becomes a living sanctuary; in mystical language, we are the containers of divine life. In Sufi poetry, the human heart is the house of the Beloved. In yogic language, the body becomes the chariot through which divine consciousness moves. Love stirs the body to awaken the soul to this forgotten truth: you are the place where God chooses to dwell.
It is also important to say gently and honestly that, at times, this closeness to Love can feel overwhelming. The same fire that heals can feel intense. Emotionally, people may encounter sudden grief, joy, fear, or deep tenderness rising all at once—sometimes faster than the heart feels ready to hold. In both Christian and Sufi writings, this stretching of the heart is part of how Love enlarges our capacity to receive.
For this reason, the wisdom traditions emphasize gentleness, grounding, and accompaniment—slowing prayer, returning to simple breath, ordinary daily routines, and, when possible, walking with a trusted spiritual companion.
And it is equally important to be compassionate with the body.
If physical sensations become frightening, extreme, persistent, or confusing—such as strong pressure, pain, dizziness, heart symptoms, or neurological-type sensations—a medical review is wise and responsible. Seeing a doctor to rule out physical causes is important and does not indicate a lack of faith. The spiritual life does not ask us to ignore our bodies; it teaches us to honor them as the very temple, chariot, and dwelling place through which the divine meets the world.
Soul Journeys 