For so long, I thought awakening meant transcending the human experience—
leaving the density, escaping the pain, rising above the body.
But recently, during one of the most visceral, heart-cracking ceremonies of my life, I remembered the truth:
I came here to be in this body.
I asked the medicine to help me remember—and it did.
Not just the cosmic remembering of the “all,” but the ache of remembering how long ago I gave up on this body.
How I had tried to fix her, hide her, starve her, silence her.
How I had blamed others for not loving her, when really, she was grieving the whole time—
grieving me.
Our bodies grieve for us.
For the times we ignored their whispers.
For the moments we pushed past exhaustion.
For the love we withheld from ourselves in the pursuit of being enough.
Every ache, every illness, every weight carried in the hips or jaw or gut—
it’s the body crying, “Please remember me.”
And when you finally listen—when you stop fighting to escape your humanness—
you realize your body was never the enemy.
She’s the most ancient part of you, the one who’s carried every lifetime, every birth, every ending.
She is both the altar and the offering.
When you surrender to that, something shifts.
The body becomes sacred sound.
The creation is not in the doing, but in the space between—
the pause between breaths, the silence between the notes of the music.
That’s where you hear truth.
That’s where you remember your divinity.
It’s in the stillness, in the void, where creation begins again.
We’ve been taught to fear emptiness, to fill every silence, to fix every discomfort.
But the void is not darkness. It’s the womb of remembering.
It’s where the divine breathes you back into being.
When you allow yourself to ask for what you need,
to recognize that you can but don’t always have to,
to rest, to be still, to be empty—
you begin a reversal.
A rebirthing.
A sacred return.
And in that return, you stop needing to fix or save anyone.
You release the urge to give away your energy just to be loved.
Because now, you understand:
your body is the universe’s favorite home.
Every freckle, every grey hair, every stretch mark, every heartbeat—
is proof that you made it here, that you stayed, that you’re still becoming.
To love this form is to love God, the universe.
To inhabit this skin fully is to anchor heaven, creation, into earth.
To feel deeply is not a flaw—it’s the way home.
💙 Welcome home to your body.
Welcome home to you.
