We are born fully connected to our soul. As babies, we are fully connected to our emotions. We cry when we are sad. We throw a toy when we are frustrated. Giggles spill out of us. We are fully connected to our body, our hunger signals. When we are hungry, we cry. We don’t wonder why we are hungry again when we just ate an hour ago. We are hungry. When we are full, we refuse the next spoonful of food with a disgusted look. We are done. We move our body when we feel like it. And we rest when we are tired. We are truly at one with our self.
Then something happens. We start to hear a voice in our mind. It teaches us that we are separate from others, that some people are better than us while others are worse. It informs us that our worth is based on what we do, and how much we have. It tells us that the past and future are more important than the present. The voice is very convincing, and we notice that others around us believe what it says, so we start to let it guide us. Further and further, we travel away from our self, and into the trance of the voice’s promises. “I will be happy when I…have more friends, make more money, have a fit body, eat healthy, have a real career, move to a new town, buy a better house, have a baby, fall in love, meditate regularly.”
Following the voice is exciting. Promises are exciting. But exciting does not mean contentment. Because separating from our soul hurts. It hurts like a mother searching for her lost child. We don’t feel the hurt though, because the voice keeps us running. Chasing. Escaping. The second we start to feel the anguish from separating from our soul, the voice quickly provides a more tangible reason for our pain. “I am fat. I need to lose weight.”, “I don’t have enough friends. I need to plan more.”, “I am a failure. I need a career.”, “I have no money. I need to make more.”, “My life is boring. I need to be more adventurous.”
Immediately our attention is pulled away from our anguish and brought to a real problem with a real solution. For example, in a world fraught with fat prejudice and thin glorification, it hurts to feel fat. But it hurts a lot less than separation from our soul. And once we conclude “I’m fat.”, then we have a myriad of solutions. We have books and internet articles to read on how to get fit, and eat healthy. We have online courses to sign up for. We have “next Monday” as a promising start date. We have a future of happiness for which to be excited.
And so, we keep running from one promise to the next. In our 20s, we run to partying, sports, academics, and romance. In our 30s, we run to creating a career, community, or family. And in our 40s, what worked in our 20s and 30s doesn’t seem to be working anymore. The hangovers are worse. Our job has become mundane. And with some of the promises already achieved, like a solid friend group, healthy body, or committed relationship, we have noticed that those alone have not brought us ever-lasting peace.
And the pain from deep within starts to bubble up to the surface. We scramble. We try our old addictions as one last attempt to keep the pain hidden. But they don’t work. And so, we have no choice but to go within. To start to feel our emotions. To connect with our heart. To communicate our needs. To identify our values. To examine our past. To heal our trauma. To ask for help. To care for the child within. To speak our truth. To reunite with our soul.
We start to notice that when we connect with our soul, we feel home. The more we spend time there, the more we want to stay. We make mistakes and lose our self in the promises of the voice over and over. But each time, it becomes easier to return home. Once we have tasted that deep connection with our self, we can’t leave it. Home just feels too good.