Sensing Types

Sensing is highly attuned to the physical world and focuses on specific, tangible details. Even minor changes to a detail can significantly alter its perceived importance and influence the overall assessment.

For example, examining a chair, a Sensing type might notice the intricate carving, the precise angle of the armrest, or the subtle variations in wood grain—details others might overlook.

This concrete focus often leads to a present-oriented perspective, sometimes causing them to overlook broader trends or alternative possibilities.

Sensing prioritizes consistency with past experience. It prefers the familiar and proven over the novel, striving to integrate new information into its existing framework.

Speech of Sensory types is more specific and detailed.

This function can be further divided into Extraverted and Introverted:

Sensing Type Speech (example + analysis)

Below is an example of text written by a person with a sensory type (SEI). The analysis of the text follows.

Childhood Memories

When I was a little girl, my dad left us.
It’s such a vivid memory, even though I wasn’t even three years old. The door closes behind my dad, my mom sits on the bed and cries. I run up to her, hug her around the neck, and start crying too. She smiles at me through her tears — “What are you crying for?”

But I have an even earlier memory — it’s winter, dark, early morning. I’m all wrapped up, sitting in the sled like a little bundle. Snow hits my face because there’s a blizzard, and my father is pulling the sled by a rope. He’s taking me through the snowdrifts to kindergarten.

And when I was little, we also had a dog and a cat.

My mom trained the dog at a DOSAAF dog club; the dog had many medals hanging on a chain. I thought it was made of gold :)

The dog even had a harness for pulling us on a sled, and she used to take out the trash — carrying the bucket in her teeth to the dumpster and back.

The dog and the cat never fought — on the contrary, they loved to chase each other down the hallway, putting on a drift show :)

Together they would raid the kitchen, stealing food from the stove, and once, right before New Year’s, they threw themselves a real feast.

Our neighbor’s little boy had Father Frost and the Snow Maiden come visit, and they invited me and my mom over too — I was three years old then.

At home, our festive table was already set, waiting for guests. And besides the table — and all the food on it — there were also the dog and the cat left alone at home. I think they were very pleased with how things turned out.

Anyway, they celebrated New Year’s in their own way :)

I was eight when the dog got very sick and had to be euthanized. It happened while I was spending the summer at my grandmother’s. I knew she was ill and worried about her. When they told me she had been put down, I cried. But I didn’t really understand — not until I came home and she just wasn’t there anymore.

But I still had my cat.

When I was about six, I used to dress her up — tie a little scarf around her head like a babushka.

Sometimes we played circus. I’d set up two stools and make her jump from one to the other, luring her with a paper bow on a string. She loved me, so she tolerated it.

Every summer she went with me to our country house, living her best cat life — catching mice and birds, and roaming around with tomcats.

In September, we’d have kittens — tiny squeaky with carrot-like tails, smelling of milk.

I was always so sad when we gave them away a month or two later. It was such a magical time — watching them grow, discover the world: first crawling blindly toward a smell, then chasing their brother full speed, tail puffed up, staring at the world with big blue eyes full of curiosity and mischief.

My cat and I stayed together for many years. One time she had another litter — all girls. When it came time to give them away, one was left — the smallest, skinniest, and most mottled one.

We decided she would stay with us. But that’s another story.

This text is a vivid example of sensory narration. Let’s break down why:

1. Focus on details and physical sensations

The text is packed with sensory imagery:

Visual impressions: “The door closes behind my dad, mom sits on the bed and cries,” “A blizzard, dark, snowflakes hitting my face.”
Tactile sensations:* “I’m all wrapped up, sitting in the sled like a little bundle,” “Tiny squeaky lumps with carrot-like tails.”
Smells: “The kittens smelled of milk.”
Sounds: “The dog took out the trash — carrying the bucket in her teeth” (you can easily imagine the sound of the bucket scraping against the pavement).

Intuitive types usually skip such physical minutiae — their thinking is built on meanings and generalizations.

2. Concreteness instead of abstract metaphors or unnecessary abstractions

The author describes reality as it is, without any hidden meanings, abstract concepts, layered associations, or interpretations. Everything is described directly:

“The dog carried the bucket” (not “heroically bore the weight of responsibility”).
“My father pulls the sled by a rope” (not “like a guardian angel leading me into the unknown”).
“The kitten chases his brother full speed” (not “as a symbol of innocent joy”).

The author doesn’t just say “we had a dog and a cat” — she describes in detail their habits, what exactly they did, and how they interacted with their surroundings.

“The dog and the cat never fought — on the contrary, they loved to chase each other down the hallway, putting on a drift show.” There’s no philosophy here, no reflection on their characters.

“Every summer she went with me to our country house, living her best cat life — catching mice and birds, and roaming around with tomcats.” There’s no analysis of “why” or “what does it mean.”

An intuitive narrator might have said:
“The animals were part of my life, and I think their friendship reflected my inner world…” — a turn toward symbolism.

The author also shows emotions but doesn’t interpret them:

“I run up to her, hug her around the neck, and start crying too”.
“I was eight when the dog got sick and was euthanized. I knew, I worried, I cried.”
The narrator simply conveys the fact and her physical reaction.

An intuitive type might reflect:
“When I learned about the dog’s death, I first felt the inevitability of loss…”

3. Sensory linearity — no abrupt associative jumps

The story begins with one of the first memories (the father leaving).
Then it smoothly transitions to an even earlier one (a blizzard, the sled, kindergarten).
Next come the memories of the pets.
Then — their specific actions and interactions with the world.
Each fragment is connected to the previous one through concrete, sensory (observable) details.

Sensing Types Subgroups

Clubs

'Romance Style' Small Group

Stimulus Seeking

Perceptual Groups

Project Groups

Source: S. Ionkin