Returning to the Soul

 

It felt tight inside her.

There, in her chest.
She felt constrained, imprisoned, yet she longed for freedom.

She wanted to live — to play, to laugh out loud, and to shine alongside other Souls.
She persistently tried to persuade her host to withdraw the artillery from a battlefield that no longer existed. To wake her from the childish dream in which she had remained trapped.

“It’s safe!” she shouted.
But there was no response.

The host was a strict woman of gentle nature. Kind to everyone — except herself.
She had locked the doors of her heart three times, just in case, so it wouldn’t happen again. She knew who lived behind those doors and desperately wanted to protect that being.
She felt her inner call, her need and potential yearning to enter the world — but she didn’t dare.
Afraid that the environment would tear her apart if it saw her, the woman directed all her strength toward her safety.

“I know you’re not happy. I can feel you,” she would say.
“But you’re safe here. No one can hurt you here. I am protecting you.”

“Me?” the Soul wondered.
“Who is this ‘I’ that suffocates me, constricts me, tightens around me?
Who is so cold and merciless —
who shields me with armor of ice in freezing temperatures, while I burn with the urge to breathe the Sun and dance with the wind.
This ‘I’ that holds me through fear instead of freeing me through love.”

“Nothing can hurt me,” the Soul continued.
“I am immortal.
Your fear is a pure illusion — it does not protect me, but your mortal body from potential pain and dying.
That fear is not you. You allowed it to rule you instead of serve you.
With it, you closed the door to your truth.
Do you know that you will never find your inner peace unless you look at what you have become?
Honestly. Without judgment or reproach.
I don’t need your protection — I need you.
Your awareness and your existence are instruments of my experience in matter.
Instead of living, we are enslaved by hypocritical mechanisms. Can’t you see? Wake up!
I need you. You need me.”

Deaf and mute to words that could not reach her, the woman continued living in the past —
in suffering, regret, pain, guilt…

When she was a little girl, her Soul was not accepted.
The world mocked her dreams.
They convinced her they were worthless — and therefore, so was she.
To survive, she packed those dreams into suitcases and locked her Soul away in a “safe” place.
From that moment on, they became separated — though they could not exist without one another.
Walls rose between them, and their voices grew quieter and quieter.

“Shaped” by society, the woman lost her sense of meaning.
She began to wither — outwardly and inwardly.
The only way to come back to life was to return to her — to her Soul — but she no longer knew how.
She had lost the keys. She could no longer hear her voice.
Only the feeling remained.

Exhausted from pretending and from the false image of herself she had been building for years — an image that cost her her own power — she decisively turned back toward her truth.
She fell and stumbled. Rose and remained. Without surrender.
She was ready to spend the rest of her life on that path if needed, just to return to herself.
Both familiar and unknown people often tried to stop her and send her back, but she did not give in.
They told her she was crazy, that she didn’t know where she was going, that she was wasting time, that her life was passing by in emptiness.
With their voices, actions, and examples, they awakened various demons within her that tried to stop her through fear.
Still, she did not give in.
She knew that giving up meant certain death — not the kind that liberates, but the kind that destroys.

Yet the more persistent she became, the more exhausted she felt.
Her strength was fading.
She couldn’t go on.

She stopped and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
The face staring back looked worn by suffering.
Sunken cheeks, sad eyes, downturned lips, dry hair — she stared into nothing and saw everything.
From her wet gaze, tears began to flow —
like two streams flowing directly from their source.
Clear. Pure. Healing.
They washed, cleansed, and carried everything away, leaving behind a trace of light and hope.

Instinctively, she placed her palms on her shoulders and embraced herself tightly.
She cried out loud. Her sobs echoed off the empty walls, and she heard nothing.
She simply flowed together with her tears.
She let the pain spill onto the tiles and drain from her wounds.
With closed eyes, she looked into her darkness and faced it.
Instead of rejecting it, denying it, or condemning it — for the first time, she stayed.
She surrendered and allowed herself to feel.
To live through the defeat she had been running from all along.

And that was enough.
From darkness, catharsis gave birth to light.

Then she understood the source of her exhaustion and her fall — and it did not come from outside.
What exists outside is merely a reflection of the world that lives within.
The battle she had been fighting with herself had to stop.
What was needed was reconciliation, not rivalry.
She was not a judge — she was a witness.

She looked to both sides and gave thanks.

She chose love.

Her heart opened, and peace flooded her entire body.
At last, she breathed fully.

The Soul is free.

Until the next reading, sending you hugs,

Iskra ✨