Each morning I talk to my tongue when I wake.  She tells me her story.   I see how the past shows up.  How physical, emotional and environmental toxins display themselves overtly.  She is shy, yet friendly and enjoys a good clean like any other part of the anatomy.  I think about the land and how we could keep her clean too.

I ask her about the different shapes she makes when she talks and sings.  Coyly, she obliges.  Sometimes I get to look right to the back.  I see a soft veil or a sticky white coating of mucus, maybe a scalloped edge.  I like the patterns, spots and shapes.  Colours of pink, red, purple, blue show up, even yellow if a turmeric-rich concoction has passed my lips.  Cracks are like gorges or valleys. A red tip, a mountain peak.  I scrutinise taste buds and porosity, textures ever-changing.    Not too wet, not too dry, a balanced pH, like the fertile ground we need to stay well.  I download a tongue map.  Now I can map my organs, check in with my liver, heart and lungs.

As a vital receptive sensory organ the tongue is an extraordinary muscle.  Her flexibility, beauty and fragility leave me speechless.  I see her subtle shifting landscape.  Matter, fluid and gas cross paths here, a smorgasbord of my inner workings.  She is unique.  She is invisible, but I know her well.  She conveys a visceral, sensual nature.  I feel curious about others’ as I get to know her better each day.  Talking to the tongue contributes to a collective conversation.  Not only do I begin to know myself better, I feel better and I can communicate with greater honesty and transparency.  Innate intelligence is at work.  She likes a clear sense of taste or rasa.  In Ayurveda, there are six tastes.   The tongue knows and likes them.  Each effects the body differently.  Sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent and astringent talk to the three doshas – pitta, vata, and kapha.  And stuff passing over the tongue is a collaboration with earth, water, fire, air and ether, making magic happen.  Throw in the gunas of the mind and another layer of specifics are added to this exchange.  Then, the body feels completely nourished and satisfied.  And the tongue gets cleaner.  Win.

The tongue likes to talk and be talked to.  She also likes to twist and cavort in intimacy.   A clean, considered vocabulary rolls off her with ease.  Rest is good and a lot of it.  On every tongue is a story of what went before and how the body is shaping up as the gateway between worlds.  She is the window of digestion, a hidden gem, an inner skin, maybe take a look.

Note:  For significant insights into your state of health seek out an experienced practitioner, one who has visited over one thousand tongues.