Working with Aphantasia – Metaphors of Movement

Working with Aphantasia in Metaphors of Movement by Masha Bennett

One of the common assumptions in therapeutic metaphor work is that people can, in some way, access internal imagery: to visualise, to see things “in their mind’s eye”. Even when this imagery is vague, blurry or fleeting (as my own typically is), it is often treated as the primary medium through which metaphor unfolds and can be explored.

However, this assumption does not always hold. Occasionally, we may encounter people affected by severe forms of aphantasia: not simply someone who reports some level of difficulty with visualising, but someone who cannot access internal imagery at all.

Whilst the prevalence of aphantasia in the general population is estimated to be around 4%, this includes cases of the so-called “visual imagery weakness” (e.g. affected individuals may still be able to see some dim or vague images); however, the extreme form of aphantasia is thought to only affect 0.8% of the population, in whom imagery is altogether absent (Dance et al., 2022).

This raises an interesting and important question for Metaphors of Movement: what happens when the visual inner landscape is not available, e.g. as in cases of severe aphantasia?

R., one of the participants of my recent Metaphors of Movement training, had reservations about joining the course, as she could not access any inner imagery whatsoever.

However, we found that she was still able to engage meaningfully in the training and successfully work with her own metaphors and those of others through a series of practical adaptations. R. has kindly given me permission to share these findings with the wider Metaphors of Movement community.

What emerged was not a limitation of the model, but rather a demonstration of its flexibility when grounded in embodiment.

When working on her own metaphor, in the absence of visual elements R. was able to rely on her felt sense; she physically adopted the body position that corresponded to her posture within the metaphor, allowing the experience to emerge through the body rather than through imagery.

R. also found that she needed to draw her own metaphor. Drawings produced by other participants when they played the role of a therapist during practical exercises often did not resonate, and it was difficult for her to make suggestions on how these should be corrected.

When movement was involved in working with the metaphor, R. enacted it physically, for example by taking steps, sitting down, standing up. I often give my students a choice whether to do this, instead of simply visualising movement, and some find it helpful, but on this occasion, it appeared necessary, not optional.

“In effect, the metaphor was not “seen” internally but instead felt and constructed through action, orientation, and interaction with the physical environment.”

When in the role of a therapist, eliciting metaphors and guiding others through this work, a different set of adaptations became necessary for R. She found that she needed to write down the client’s description of the metaphor landscape before attempting to draw it; that is, details such as what was to the left, right, in front, or behind had to be explicitly recorded and organised first. She was then able to produce a drawing based on the written description.

This suggests that, in the absence of internal imagery, spatial cognition may be supported through language and structured external representation.

R.’s experience highlights something fundamental about metaphor work: imagery is not the mechanism; it is just one possible interface. The underlying processes appear to be grounded in embodiment, spatial orientation, relational positioning, and movement.

If someone reports difficulty visualising, it may not be a barrier to effective work. Instead, it invites flexibility in approach. This might include encouraging physical enactment of metaphor, working explicitly with spatial language, and inviting the individual to feel rather than see the metaphor.

Where imagery is absent, the metaphor may still exist and can be effectively explored and utilised in the context of the Metaphors of Movement model. For R., most of the components of this work, including idiomisation, testing out the real-world coping strategy (“Strange Road”), taking steps, and so on, turned out to be just as relevant and significant as they were to those participants who could see clear images in their mind’s eye.

I would love to hear from any Metaphors of Movement practitioners or trainees who are aphantasic themselves or work with clients who cannot access imagery, and to learn about any adjustments to the model that you have found useful in such cases.