There is a voice that tries to keep us safe.
It tightens.
It questions.
It builds stories
around what might go wrong.
It can feel convincing.
And for a long time, we listen.
Not because we are weak,
but because something in us
is trying to protect what is tender.
And in time,
we being to see —
even this is holy.
The grasping.
The fear.
The shadowed need to hold on.
It was never the enemy.
It was love,
distorted by pain,
still trying
to keep the heart safe
until it could remember
its own light.
— a reflection by Corvalya
Return to The Ego.
Notice what shifts.