Field Theory in Gestalt Therapy: We are never separate

We are never separate from the world around us. This article explores how Gestalt therapy’s Field Theory reveals that we are never separate from the world around us, showing how healing arises in relationship with people, place, and moment.

Introduction: We Are Never Separate

Gestalt therapy begins with the understanding that we are whole beings: embodied, emotional, relational, always part of something larger. At the heart of this is Field Theory: the idea that we are never separate from our surroundings. Our thoughts, feelings, and behaviours don’t arise in isolation; they emerge in a dynamic, shifting field that includes our bodies, histories, relationships, environments, and cultural contexts.

I remember walking through a rainforest after a storm, the smell of wet earth and the sound of dripping leaves all around me. I had been feeling fragmented and stuck. Birds called overhead, insects buzzed and hummed. In that moment, the field shifted, I felt part of something bigger. I could breathe again. This was field awareness.

What is Field Theory?

Field Theory was introduced to psychology by Kurt Lewin in the 1930s. He proposed that behaviour is a function of the person and their environment. Gestalt therapy adopted and expanded this view.  In Gestalt, the ‘field’ is the whole situation, everything that’s happening in and around the person, moment to moment. It includes what we’re aware   of and what we’re not, and it is always in flux. We don’t live in isolation, we are in constant interaction with the world, and our experiences emerge from those interactions.

The field includes both the foreground of immediate experience and the background of our lives: our relationships, culture, history, even the weather or time of day. All of this influences how we feel and how we respond, even if we’re not fully aware of it. What struck me most when I first encountered this was how often we’re unaware of the field, especially the relational field. Sometimes I would sense something ‘between’ myself and another person but not have language for it. Over time, I’m learning to notice the subtle shifts in the relational field, the sense of what’s happening between us that isn’t always spoken.

Gestalt theorist Malcolm Parlett emphasised the importance of a full field approach in therapy, one that pays as much attention to the wider ground of a person’s life context as it does to the immediate issues they bring. In this way, field theory invites us to see the bigger picture, to include the background as part of the story.

The Field in the Therapy Room

In the therapy room, field theory comes alive. The therapist and person seeking help are not two separate individuals working in isolation. We’re both part of something that’s unfolding between us, something we’re creating together, whether we realise it or not  A person arrives quiet and withdrawn. I start to feel heavy too. Rather than trying to fix it or move past the silence, I pause and pay attention to the atmosphere in the room. What’s going on here? What’s this quietness holding or asking from both of us? Sometimes the smallest shift, a change in how I sit, softening my voice, opening the window to let in some air, can change the feeling in the space. The room feels different, and often the person seeking help does too. The field has shifted, and with it, something new becomes possible.

This way of working is quite different from models that focus only on the individual or try to analyse what’s going on inside them. In Gestalt, we look at the whole picture, including what’s happening in the moment between us. The relationship itself becomes part of the healing.

When the Field Shifts: Two Examples from the Therapy Room

These small moments in therapy can reveal just how alive and responsive the field is. When one part of the field changes, whether it’s the therapist, the person seeking help, or the environment, everything can shift.

Example 1: Anxiety and Grounding

A person came to therapy feeling anxious and on edge. They spoke quickly and sat perched on the edge of the chair, their eyes darting around the room. I stayed connected to my own body, breathing slowly and feeling the weight of myself in the chair. I didn’t try to calm them down. I simply stayed with them, grounded and present. After a while, they noticed. ‘You’re so still,’ they said. ‘Maybe I can slow down too.’ Something had shifted, not just in them, but in the space between us.

Example 2: Not Enough, and then, something softens

Another person seeking help often spoke about feeling ‘not enough.’ They tended to be hard on themselves, always trying to get things right. One day they arrived for a session that happened to be quieter than usual, there was no traffic outside, the room felt still. They glanced around and noticed the cushions, the art materials, the figurines on the shelf, and the picture of a sunbird on the wall. ‘It feels really gentle in here,’ they said. That day, something softened. They spoke about themselves with a little more kindness. We hadn’t done anything different, but the environment, the rhythm, and our shared presence had shifted the field, and that made space for a new way of being.

Personal Reflection: Feeling the Field in Life

I often think about how different environments shape how I feel, not just mentally, but in my body. When I walk through the rainforest, I can feel myself exhale. The smell of the earth, the green all around me, the damp air. Birds call overhead, insects buzz and hum. The whole place is alive, and I feel more alive in it. It does something to my nervous system. I feel part of something. It’s not just peaceful, it’s relational. The field is holding me. Or when I swim in the ocean: the cold water, the movement, the wide expanse of sky above me. My sense of self shifts. Worries don’t feel so tightly held. I feel alive, connected, open. These are moments when I remember—deeply—that I am not separate.

This awareness shapes how I work as a therapist. I no longer try to focus only on the ‘content’ of what’s being said. I’m listening to the wider field: the tone of voice, the posture, the weather outside, what’s unspoken between us. I try to include all of it. Sometimes it’s not what I say, but how I’m sitting, how I’m breathing, that supports the person seeking help to find their next step.

Implications for Therapy

Being aware of the field changes the way I work. It deepens the quality of contact. I start to notice not just what a person is saying, but how their body is held, how the air in the room feels, what’s happening between us in the pauses and silences.

Field theory reminds me to attend to the whole situation, not just the person’s ‘problem’ or story, but the context they’re living in. That might include family, cultural expectations, climate, the layout of the room, or even the time of day. It’s all part of the picture. Sometimes I move a chair slightly to make more space between us. Sometimes I notice how a late afternoon light makes the room feel softer, or how the sound of rain outside shifts the pace of a session. These things matter. They’re not background, they’re part of the field, and they shape what can emerge.

This approach is also a kind of antidote to reductionism. It respects complexity. It says: you are more than a label or set of symptoms, more than your coping strategy, more than your history. You are part of something larger. And so am I. When we work with the whole field, it also opens space for creativity and experimentation. We’re not limited to words, we might draw, move, pause, change our surroundings, or try something unexpected. The field gives us cues, and when we’re attuned to it, we can follow what’s alive and see where it wants to go.

Concluding Thoughts

Field theory reminds us that we are never separate. We live in constant relationship, with others, with our environments, with the world around us. In therapy, as in life, we are shaped by these relationships, whether we are aware of them or not. When we start to notice the field, things shift. We begin to sense what’s happening around us and between us. We feel more connected, more responsive, more alive. Healing happens not in isolation, but in relationship, in the subtle exchanges, in the tone of a room, in the moment of meeting. Field awareness calls us to live more responsively, to sense the subtle movements of the world we’re part of, and to let them inform how we meet each moment. I often invite people I work with, and myself, to pause and gently notice the field. What’s happening here? What’s shaping me in this moment? What am I part of?

“The whole is more than the sum of its parts, and we are always part of the whole”.

Adapted from Kurt Koffka, Principles of Gestalt Psychology (1935).

 

 

References

Joyce, P., & Sills, C. (2010). Skills in Gestalt Counselling & Psychotherapy (2nd ed.). Sage.

Koffka, K. (1935). Principles of Gestalt Psychology. Harcourt, Brace & Company.

Clarkson, P., & Mackewn, J. (1993). Fritz Perls. Sage.

Mackewn, J. (1997). Developing Gestalt Counselling. Sage.

Parlett, M. (1991). Reflections on field theory. British Gestalt Journal, 1(2), 69–81.

Lewin, K. (1951). Field Theory in Social Science: Selected Theoretical Papers. Harper & Row.