The Unbinding of the Soul
Some of us speak the language of energy.
Not as a concept, but as a lived experience.
The subtle hum beneath thought,
beneath emotion,
beneath form.
It is the pulse that animates everything we see and feel.
It cannot be created or destroyed.
Only reconfigured.
Detached from. Reattached to.
Or met in stillness until it softens into something new.
Our cognitive mind - this structure built for survival - wants to keep us safe.
It builds walls of reason and habit,
stories and defenses,
all in the name of staying intact.
But safety and healing are not the same thing.
When we begin to unearth the deeper wounds within us,
we face a crossroad:
to stay with the truth of what’s rising,
or to perform another version of “healing” that feels productive
but changes nothing.
You can tell the difference.
Because when real healing happens,
your inner and outer worlds start to shift.
Life rearranges.
You begin to breathe from a different center.
Our drive to survive is ancient.
It can override our will, our longing, even our clarity.
It will choose the familiar over the free.
Even when the familiar hurts.
The mind will weave its illusions,
creating convincing stories about who is to blame,
about how justified you are to feel what you feel,
about what should change “out there.”
But most of the time,
the story is only a shield against the depth that’s calling.
The mind would rather chase a narrative
than touch what lives beneath it.
And so, we must learn to be with what lives underneath.
The raw, trembling currents that move beneath thought, emotion, body.
This is where pain is born,
in the energetic bindings that hold our being in tension.
When we meet that level of pain with presence,
not analysis, not story, but presence,
something begins to unwind.
It’s rarely graceful.
It’s not easy.
But it’s real.
The actual pain is an ancient ache
beneath all the stories.
A current that follows you through many forms.
And it can be excruciating.
Yet it is sacred, and it is liberating.
When we meet it
when we don’t turn away
something within us remembers.
It’s as if we look at the code behind the screen of life.
The world we see is just the interface;
the energy beneath it is the programming.
And as we learn to meet the energy directly,
the code begins to rewrite itself.
This is not a quick process.
It’s not a “healing hack.”
It’s the long path home.
And so, we keep going.
We keep meeting what is true,
layer after layer.
Each time a binding loosens,
the world grows more spacious.
Colors return.
Synchronicity appears.
Life becomes slowly, quietly - magical.
We let the stories fall away
until only the pulse of life remains.
It takes courage.
It takes hope.
And it takes others who have walked the same roads.
both seen and unseen
to hold the mirror of remembrance.
Because this is what we came here for:
to meet what is not yet free within us,
to turn toward it,
and to remember
who we’ve always been.