| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Friday, 21 August 2026
On this day of your life
I believe God wants you to know ...
... that the election is over, the votes have been counted,
and you win.
It was not even a close race, because all the votes in
Heaven are for you. Nobody can defeat you, and
nobody ever could. In this campaign, you were
declared the winner long ago.
So...you can stop running now. Relax. Breathe. It's a
landslide. You're in.
The only thing left now is for you to know it. Do you?
If you do, you will experience it.
Connecting With Your Intuition (OM)
|
|
|
Why You Can’t Think Your Way into Loving Your Body.
Share on bsky
There was a woman who always took the same spot, the back corner, mat angled slightly away from the mirror, towel draped over her shoulders before she had even moved.
She apologised before class started. For her body. For being slow. For not knowing the poses yet. Her shoulders curled inward like she was trying to take up less room in the world than she already did.
Months later, she was in the front row. No towel. Spine long. Eyes closed, moving like no one was watching, because by then it genuinely didn’t matter if they were. Nothing about her body had changed. Everything about her relationship to it had.
Here is what I have come to understand, watching this happen over and over:
Shame does not live in the mind. It lives in tissue. It lives in the shoulders pulled up toward the ears, the stomach held tight even when no one is looking, the breath kept shallow because deep breathing makes you feel too much, takes up too much space, asks to be noticed. You can think your way toward body acceptance for years and still flinch when someone hugs you, because the flinch was never a thought. It was trained into the muscle.
This is why sensual movement works when self-talk alone does not. Sensation bypasses the part of the brain that argues with you. You cannot think your way into feeling warm sun on skin, you either feel it or you do not. You cannot intellectually decide your hips are allowed to sway; either you let them, or thirty years of being told to sit still and take up less room wins…again. The body either drops the holding pattern or it doesn’t, and no amount of affirmation reaches the place where that pattern actually lives.
I watched a woman cry halfway through a hip-opening sequence, not from pain, but because something released that had been clenched for so long she had stopped registering it as tension at all. She thought it was just how her body was. I watched a man in his sixties, guarded and stiff for months, let his hips move freely during a slow warm-up and grin like he had just remembered a version of himself he thought was gone.
Neither of them talked themselves into that moment. Their bodies simply stopped defending.
That is what sensuality actually is, underneath the word people flinch at. Not seduction. Not performance. It is the nervous system’s only language, the one that operates beneath thought, in raw sensation. The shiver of sun on skin after a grey winter. The exact second a held breath finally drops into the belly. These are not metaphors for feeling safe. They are what safety in a body actually feels like, registering in real time, faster than any thought could reach it.
Movement becomes the door into that state because it gives the nervous system something to do besides defend.
Slow the pace down enough and the spine starts moving on its own logic instead of the mind’s. The breath deepens before you decide to let it. The shoulders drop before you remember to relax them. This is not because the person became more confident. It is because, for a few minutes, the body stopped bracing long enough to find out what it actually felt like underneath all that bracing.
There is no finish line here, because this is not a skill you master. It is a pattern you keep unlearning, one unclenched breath at a time, for as long as you keep showing up.
The woman in the front row, no towel, eyes closed, did not get there by becoming braver. She got there because her body finally believed, in its tissue, in the place words cannot reach, that it was allowed to stop holding on.
That is the part nobody puts in to words enough:
The body believes things the mind has long since stopped saying out loud and it takes a different language entirely to change its mind.
~
The Final Step of Healing is Not Perfection—it is Surrender.
View this post on Instagram
There comes a point in your healing journey where knowledge is no longer enough.
You can name the wound.
Trace the pattern.
Identify the trigger.
Remember where it all started.
Feel the trauma.
Tell the truth about what happened.
And still not be free.
Because healing does not end the moment you become self-aware.
Self-awareness is what brings you to the threshold.
The deeper crossing comes later with more intention.
It often comes when you have no other option but to surrender.
That is the part many do not expect.
They believe that healing is the breakthrough. The realization. The release of emotion. The boundary. The lesson.
And all of that contributes to healing.
But there is a stage beyond personal insight. A stage where healing stops asking you to understand more and starts asking you to loosen your grip. To loosen your grip on the outcome. On the timeline. On the explanation. On the need for things to resolve in the exact way you hoped they would.
That is why surrender can feel like the hardest part of the journey. Because it asks for something more sacred than effort.
It asks for trust. Not passive trust. Not detached trust. But the kind of trust that tells the truth about what is and stops trying to force its way.
Surrender is often misunderstood. Many people hear that word “surrender” and think it means giving up. Abandoning your desires.
Becoming passive. Lowering your standards. Collapsing.
But real surrender is not collapse.
It is not resigning yourself.
It is not saying the pain did not matter.
It is not pretending you no longer care.
It is not making peace with what violated your spirit.
Surrender is something deeper.
It is the moment a person stops fighting what is already true. It is the moment they stop trying to control what can only be healed through release.
This is why surrender can be difficult for those who are determined to receive through possession.
Because pain often hides inside control. Control over meaning. Control over timing. Control over how the story ends. Control over whether something lost can still be recovered. Control over whether love, closure, justice, or peace will arrive in the form they deem fit.
And many people do not realize how long they have been healing with clinging still hidden inside it.
They are doing the work.
They are reflecting.
Praying.
Journaling.
Visualizing.
Setting boundaries.
Being optimistic.
And still secretly hoping they can manufacture the outcome. Still hoping that if they understand enough, process enough, forgive enough, regulate enough, they can make reality bend to their will.
But healing deepens when a person becomes willing to stop negotiating with reality. When they stop asking, “How do I make this become what I wanted?” And start asking, “What would it look like to release my grip and stop holding the outcome hostage?”
That is the threshold.
Because resistance is exhausting.
Sometimes the deepest suffering is not only the wound itself. It is the inner war against what the wound reveals about our attachments and the prisons they have us in. The war against preventing rejection. The war against preventing disappointment. The war against preventing abandonment. The war against preventing the unknown from unfolding.
Surrender ends that war. Not because it allows you to direct the outcome. But because it stops you from resisting true inner peace.
And there is something sacred that happens when a person stops resisting what is already true.
Their body softens.
Their spirit quiets.
Their nervous system stops bracing.
Their energy begins to return.
They are no longer scattering themselves, trying to force a resolution when only release will do.
This is the final step so many people avoid.
Surrender feels like death to the part of them that still believes control is protection. And yet it is often only through surrender that real wholeness arrives.
Real serenity comes with finally allowing life to surprise you.
The serenity that comes when a person finally says:
I will no longer beg reality to become something else.
I will no longer hold myself hostage to an outcome.
I will no longer keep reopening the wound by refusing to accept what it showed me.
That is not defeat or self-abandonment. It is maturity. That is spiritual honesty. That is healing becoming real.
Because the final step of healing is not perfection. It is not always having a scripted ending. It is not directing life into oblivion.
It is surrender. The quiet, holy moment when a person stops trying to control what only God, time, truth, and release can carry from here.
And in that moment, something changes.
They are no longer just aware.
They are liberated.
~
X
Read 0 comments and reply
Top Contributors Latest
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Read 0 comments and reply