I read in another newsletter this week 'what part of me is still organising itself around a past threat' and it totally hit me inside. There have been several instances this week when I realised I was responding from old beliefs and old wounds, but that realisation allows me to see how I've been limping along and remove the stones from my shoes. The word 'ease' came into my mind in the night last night and I realised I've rarely lived my life with ease because I've been stuck in survival mode.
I'm choosing to embrace ease now and letting go of the belief that I need to live as if I'm going into battle. I want to go with the flow of life, not push against it, feeling that I need to control everything. It's taken years for me to arrive at this place and I don't believe we're healed or broken; nowadays I'm more able to trust myself and accept I'll learn what I need to learn over time. I'm grateful for the journey despite the fact it's brought me to my knees at times 🙏🙂 Karen
I read in another newsletter this week 'what part of me is still organising itself around a past threat' and it totally hit me inside. There have been several instances this week when I realised I was responding from old beliefs and old wounds, but that realisation allows me to see how I've been limping along and remove the stones from my shoes. The word 'ease' came into my mind in the night last night and I realised I've rarely lived my life with ease because I've been stuck in survival mode.
I'm choosing to embrace ease now and letting go of the belief that I need to live as if I'm going into battle. I want to go with the flow of life, not push against it, feeling that I need to control everything. It's taken years for me to arrive at this place and I don't believe we're healed or broken; nowadays I'm more able to trust myself and accept I'll learn what I need to learn over time. I'm grateful for the journey despite the fact it's brought me to my knees at times 🙏🙂 Karen
Thank you for this beautiful reflection, Karen. 🙏 I love the reflection of ease. I have had a similar word arise for me this week: relax. Relax in trust. Relax in faith. Relax into the current of the Universe. Trust that we can handle it all, whatever may come. I am honoured to be walking on this journey with you.
Ease, relax...all opportunities to slow down and I know exactly what you mean in terms of relaxing into the current of the Universe. I spent a long time wanting to be healed and feeling frustrated with myself, but I now trust myself more and trust something much greater than me 🙂
Thank you for this beautiful and deeply human reflection. So much of what you wrote resonates—the inner struggle, the inevitability of pain, the reframing of wounds as part of our becoming.
The Rumi quote you included has stayed with me for years: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” It captures something essential—not just that we are wounded, but that there’s something sacred about allowing those wounds to be seen, to be felt, to be lived with.
Your mention of the limp has me reflecting. Yes, many of us walk differently after our struggles. Some limp quietly. Some wear it on the outside. Some overcompensate, appearing stronger than ever while carrying something heavy within. And the truth is, I think we’re all walking with a limp of some kind. Some part of us is tender, guarded, or in recovery.
What strikes me lately is this: those who do the deeper work—the ones who sit with the pain, trace it back, breathe with it, and unearth what’s underneath—they seem to develop something else. Not just acceptance but access. A kind of quiet clarity. A deeper sense of knowing. Maybe even a kind of superpower—not because they’re healed or whole, but because they’re honest about what they’ve carried.
And so I wonder:
What if the point isn’t to focus on the limp at all?
What if we turned our attention to what the limp has given us?
The attunement.
The presence.
The courage to stay.
Because the most courageous people I know aren’t the ones who walk tall—they’re the ones who walk with tenderness, with awareness, with light still shining through the cracks.
Thanks again for your words. This conversation matters.
Thank you, Shasheen, for such a beautiful reflection. I agree with you wholeheartedly. The ones who face their pain with honesty and acceptance are the courageous ones who show up with tenderness, awareness, and light (love). This is so true. Thank you. 🙏
I read in another newsletter this week 'what part of me is still organising itself around a past threat' and it totally hit me inside. There have been several instances this week when I realised I was responding from old beliefs and old wounds, but that realisation allows me to see how I've been limping along and remove the stones from my shoes. The word 'ease' came into my mind in the night last night and I realised I've rarely lived my life with ease because I've been stuck in survival mode.
I'm choosing to embrace ease now and letting go of the belief that I need to live as if I'm going into battle. I want to go with the flow of life, not push against it, feeling that I need to control everything. It's taken years for me to arrive at this place and I don't believe we're healed or broken; nowadays I'm more able to trust myself and accept I'll learn what I need to learn over time. I'm grateful for the journey despite the fact it's brought me to my knees at times 🙏🙂 Karen
I read in another newsletter this week 'what part of me is still organising itself around a past threat' and it totally hit me inside. There have been several instances this week when I realised I was responding from old beliefs and old wounds, but that realisation allows me to see how I've been limping along and remove the stones from my shoes. The word 'ease' came into my mind in the night last night and I realised I've rarely lived my life with ease because I've been stuck in survival mode.
I'm choosing to embrace ease now and letting go of the belief that I need to live as if I'm going into battle. I want to go with the flow of life, not push against it, feeling that I need to control everything. It's taken years for me to arrive at this place and I don't believe we're healed or broken; nowadays I'm more able to trust myself and accept I'll learn what I need to learn over time. I'm grateful for the journey despite the fact it's brought me to my knees at times 🙏🙂 Karen
Thank you for this beautiful reflection, Karen. 🙏 I love the reflection of ease. I have had a similar word arise for me this week: relax. Relax in trust. Relax in faith. Relax into the current of the Universe. Trust that we can handle it all, whatever may come. I am honoured to be walking on this journey with you.
Thank you Brooke and I with you ❤️ 🙏
Ease, relax...all opportunities to slow down and I know exactly what you mean in terms of relaxing into the current of the Universe. I spent a long time wanting to be healed and feeling frustrated with myself, but I now trust myself more and trust something much greater than me 🙂
Thank you for this beautiful and deeply human reflection. So much of what you wrote resonates—the inner struggle, the inevitability of pain, the reframing of wounds as part of our becoming.
The Rumi quote you included has stayed with me for years: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” It captures something essential—not just that we are wounded, but that there’s something sacred about allowing those wounds to be seen, to be felt, to be lived with.
Your mention of the limp has me reflecting. Yes, many of us walk differently after our struggles. Some limp quietly. Some wear it on the outside. Some overcompensate, appearing stronger than ever while carrying something heavy within. And the truth is, I think we’re all walking with a limp of some kind. Some part of us is tender, guarded, or in recovery.
What strikes me lately is this: those who do the deeper work—the ones who sit with the pain, trace it back, breathe with it, and unearth what’s underneath—they seem to develop something else. Not just acceptance but access. A kind of quiet clarity. A deeper sense of knowing. Maybe even a kind of superpower—not because they’re healed or whole, but because they’re honest about what they’ve carried.
And so I wonder:
What if the point isn’t to focus on the limp at all?
What if we turned our attention to what the limp has given us?
The attunement.
The presence.
The courage to stay.
Because the most courageous people I know aren’t the ones who walk tall—they’re the ones who walk with tenderness, with awareness, with light still shining through the cracks.
Thanks again for your words. This conversation matters.
From the heart,
Shasheen
Thank you, Shasheen, for such a beautiful reflection. I agree with you wholeheartedly. The ones who face their pain with honesty and acceptance are the courageous ones who show up with tenderness, awareness, and light (love). This is so true. Thank you. 🙏
Embracing my limp now and seeing as an offering to share with others and help some of them along their journey.
Thank you, Mike! Thank you for the comment and for sharing your story with others. It's a courageous act to share our stories.