The Awakening

Anastasia Tsyoh

 

There comes a time in life when you finally get it...when in the midst of all the fear and insanity, you stop dead on your tracks….and somewhere inside your head a voice cries out, ENOUGH! Enough fighting and crying…or struggling, to hold on. And like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside. You shudder once or twice, you blink back a few tears and through a mantle of wet lashes, you begin to look at the world with new eyes.

This, is your awakening!

You realize that it is time to stop hoping and waiting for something to magically change or for happiness, safety and security, to come galloping like a wild horse over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that there is no Prince Charming or Cinderella…and that in the real world, there aren't always fairy tale endings, or beginnings for that matter. You realize that any "happily ever after" MUST begin with you….and with this, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance. 

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, approve or appreciate who or what you are….and that, is OK (everyone is entitled to their own views and opinions). Thus, you learn the value of loving and championing yourself and with this, a sense of new-found confidence is born, of self-approval.

You stop complaining and blaming other people for things they did to you (or did not do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on, is the unexpected. You realize that people don't always say what they mean, or mean what they say…and that not everyone will always be there for you….and that it is not always, about you. As a result, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself. And with this, a sense of safety and security is born, from self-reliance.

You also stop judging and pointing fingers…because you begin to accept people as they are; overlooking their shortcomings or human frailties. In the process, a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness…for others and more importantly, for yourself.

You begin to see that much of the way that you’ve viewed yourself and the world around you, is a result of misleading messages and opinions which have engrained in your psyche. Therefore, you start to sift through emotional debris, created by what has been fed to you for years; about what you should believe, how you should look, how you should live, what career you should strive for, who you should marry, what you should expect of marriage, the meaning of having or not having children…or why you should or should not live up to your family’s expectations.

You begin to open up to new possibilities…new worlds and different points of views; assessing and redefining who you really are and what you truly stand for. You learn the difference between wanting and needing…you start to discard useless doctrines, which you’ve now outgrown; some which you should have never bought into, to begin with. You learn it is in giving that one truly receives. You discover there’s power in creating and contributing…so you stop maneuvering through life as a mere “consumer” just looking for the next fix.

Surely, you learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not just some outdated ideals of a bygone era….but rather, like key ingredients in a mortar; the foundation upon which you should build a life. You begin to understand that you don’t know everything; as it is not your job to save the world….and that you can’t teach a pig to sing. The difference between guilt and responsibility becomes crystal clear…and you learn how important it is to set boundaries and the freedom, of saying NO. You realize the only cross to bear, is the one you choose to carry…as martyrs too, get burned at the stake.

You also learn about LOVE. Familial, friendship and romantic love…and how to love. How much to give, when to hold back, and when to walk away. You learn not to impose or force things in a relationship. With this, you stop projecting expectations and learn to accept reality; allowing a natural unfolding of what is, instead of what you wish it would be. You begin to understand that you are not more beautiful, more intelligent, more lovable, or more important by being how any person you love, expects you to be. Because, the person holding your hand does not define you. Furthermore, you stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes…and realize that just as people grow and change, so does love. Ultimately, you accept that love does not have to be specific to a popular format, to equal happiness…or for it to have validity, and that being alone does not mean, being lonely.

You look in the mirror and you come to terms with not having the body of an airbrushed model, from a fashion magazine. Therefore, you stop competing with the image in your head and instead, you start to love yourself exactly as you are. You stop agonizing on how to stack up to what others feel is normal or acceptable. Thus, you refrain from putting your feelings aside or ignoring your needs to fit in, or to satisfy others. And you learn that feelings of entitlement when it relates to your life and your happiness, are perfectly OK…you are, entitled to be appreciated….and valued. And sometimes, if you feel trespassed, it is necessary to make demands and to set boundaries, in order to protect yourself.

You understand that you do deserve to be treated with love, kindness, compassion and respect; starting with how you, treat yourself…and not to contemplate anything less. From this point on, only those arms who cherishes you, may hold you….and in this process, you internalized the meaning of self-respect.

You learn that your body, really is your temple. Thus…you begin to take care of it and to treat it with innate respect. You start to eat a balance diet and to hydrate with more water…you take more time to exercise. You learn that fatigue can also weaken the spirit; which could lead to self doubt and anxiety…so you take more time to rest.

And just as food fuels the body…laughter fuels the soul, so you find time to laugh and play. You learn that for the most part, in life you get what you believe you deserve…and that much of life if not all, is a self fulfilling prophecy; so you make an effort to become more optimistic. You learn that anything worth achieving, is worth fighting for. That wishing for something to happen, is different from working toward making it happen…and you find the strength to do the latter. 

Most importantly, you learn that to succeed in anything…you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You also learn that no one can do it all alone and that it is ok to ask for help. Consequently, you learn the only thing you should fear in life is the great robber baron of all time; FEAR ITSELF! So you find a way to step right through your fears, because you realize that whatever happens you can handle it. For to give in to fear…is to give up the right to live on your terms.

You learn to fight hard for your life and not to squander, living under a cloud of impending doom. You see life isn’t always fair; you don’t always get what you wish for and sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. It is during these moments that you learn not to personalize things. God isn’t punishing you, or failing to answer your prayers. It is life just happening! And you start to recognize evil in its most primal state; the ego…learning how to control it, instead of allowing it, to control you.

You realize that negative feelings such as anger, envy, hate, resentment and sorrow, must all be understood and redirected…or they will suffocate the life out of you…and poison the universe which surrounds you. You learn to admit when you’re wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn about gratitude and to appreciate the comfort of simple things, which many take for granted….things that millions of people on Earth can only dream of: clean running water, a full refrigerator, a comfortable bed to sleep on, a hot shower on a cold day, clean clothes to wear…a place to call home.

Slowly, you start to take responsibility for yourself. You make yourself a promise to never betray yourself again by settling for less than. You hang a wind chime outside a window, so you could listen to the wind; as a gentle reminder to keep trusting, keep smiling…and you make it a point to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

Finally…with courage in your heart and with God by your side…you take a stand. You take a deep breath…and you begin to design the life you want, as best as you can!

Judith Espinosa

 

Stages of Spiritual Awakening

Mário Spencer

The journey of spiritual awakening is a winding road with many twists and turns along the way. 

While there are some common patterns and spiritual awakening stages that many people experience, everyone’s path is unique and unfolds differently. As someone who has walked this path for decades, I can say that the spiritual awakening stages are beautiful, messy, painful, blissful, incredible and at times dark. 

Everyone’s journey will be different. 

It’s important to recognize that these stages are not linear, nor is every seeker destined to experience each one. The spiritual awakening stages are more like a series of psychological and metaphysical openings that shed light on our human conditioning and spark an inward revolution. 

For some, the process is a soft unbinding, while for others, it may feel like a severe upheaval of reality.

1. Feeling discontent with life as you know it

For many, the first stage of spiritual awakening arises from a profound sense of discontent or emptiness with the day-to-day grind. Despite checking off society’s boxes of success, something fundamental is missing. An underlying feeling that there must be “more to life than this”. A vague yearning pervades, a homesickness for something they cannot quite name. There is an intuitive sense that merely making a living is not truly the essence of being fully alive.

This feeling grows more pronounced over time. Nights are spent in existential questioning about purpose and the nature of reality itself. This profound feeling of separation from source becomes a catalyst for their spiritual awakening journey. The homesickness is finally recognized as a sacred calling to return to the depths of their true nature.

2. Questioning your reality and belief systems 

As the thirst for truth grows, the next stage of spiritual awakening involves a deep and often unsettling questioning of personal reality and belief systems. This phase is characterized by turning fundamental assumptions about the universe, consciousness, and the narratives we’ve subscribed to inside out. This shaking up of mental and cultural constructs can be both liberating and deeply unsettling.

You might start to question long-held beliefs about who you are, what the world is, and how it operates. This process can be difficult, as it challenges the very foundation upon which you’ve built your understanding of life.

3. Spiritual curiosity and seeking knowledge 

This stage of spiritual awakening created voracious spiritual curiosity for me. I found myself drawn to various philosophies, faiths, and esoteric teachings – devouring books on Buddhism, Hinduism, metaphysics, and other non-dual traditions. I attended workshops, went on retreats, and sought out spiritual teachers and gurus. 

In the relentless pursuit of spiritual enlightenment, the seekers explore various paths, each one offering a unique perspective on reality. Their journey is fueled by a burning desire to unravel the mysteries of existence and to attain a deeper sense of meaning and purpose.

This is typically the honeymoon period of seeking, where there is intense passion, energy and excitement of discovering new knowledge and experiences..

4. Finding Your Spiritual Guide or Guru

For many seekers, there comes a point when the desire for a guru or spiritual mentor arises organically. Having a guide who has walked on the path can be invaluable. They can act as a mirror, insightful friend, and point the way when you feel lost.

My experience has been that the guru appears when the student is truly ready. There were times of seeking outwardly for the right teacher, only to realize the ones I needed were presenting themselves all along – sometimes in human form, other times as life itself. 

Ultimately, the truest guru is the one who points you back to your own inner nature. They guide you to find the guru within.

For me, another major insight came when I realized my path could not be dictated by any one teacher or tradition. I am immensely grateful for the many guides who have graced my life. As I learned to go directly to the source of my own being, all scriptures and masters revealed their greatest wisdom – that which I am seeking, I already am. 

5. Purging old habits and conditioning

As my awareness expanded, there was an inherent purging process that took place on multiple levels. Old habits, relationships and possessions that no longer resonated with my inner truth started falling away – sometimes gracefully, other times with great resistance and turmoil.

It was as if my being was shedding an old layer of skin. While painful at times to let go of attachments, this created space for me to align with the insights emerging from within. Looking back, I’m grateful for the people, situations, and comforts I’ve had to release to continue evolving.

This stage of spiritual awakening is like casting away your anchor and setting sails on an infinite ocean.

6. Non-attachment and surrender 

As the spiritual journey deepens, spiritual seekers begin to cultivate a deep sense of non-attachment and surrender. This shift in their consciousness arises from the realization that clinging to desires leads to suffering and dissatisfaction.

Through their studies and meditation practices, they learn to let go of the need to control every aspect of their life and to embrace the present moment with acceptance. This newfound understanding of non-attachment does not come easily. But as you surrender to the present, you experience a profound sense of peace and contentment that had previously eluded you. 

7. Understanding you are not your ego – A pivotal realization 

A big stage in spiritual awakening was recognizing that the constant stream of thought, and emotions were not ultimately who I am. There was a witnessing awareness beneath the egoic mind. In the space between thoughts, I experienced glimpses of my true nature as consciousness itself. However, it was an ongoing process of catching myself getting re-absorbed in old mental patterns and stories – a continuous cycle of remembering my infinite essence.

8. Experiencing periods of bliss and unity

As conditioned beliefs dissolved, I had experiences of indescribable bliss, love, and a sense of unity with all of existence. These were periods of being absorbed in the rapture of the Divine, a homecoming to my true nature.

During these times, the personal “I” dropped away as I recognized my essence was one with the entire cosmos. There was no meditator, no one being awakened – only the dance of consciousness waking up to itself. 

These experiences arise with different intensity during different stages of awakening.  While these were temporary experiences, they provided a taste of what lies beyond the egoic, limited self.

9. Facing your fears and shadows within 

As my journey of spiritual awakening progressed, I realized I could not bypass the human experience. In fact, I had to go straight through the eye of the storm and face my deepest fears, wounds, and shadows head-on.

I had to dive within the subconscious mind  that had been running my patterns, sabotaging relationships, and creating suffering. Confronting the darkness within myself, while deeply uncomfortable, was a powerful part of integrating aspects of my humanity and divinity.

10. Isolation: Feeling detached from others

This is a common stage of spiritual awakening, when a seeker feels all alone and isolated.

During certain stretches of my inner journey, I felt very alone and isolated from others who lacked a similar level of conscious awareness. As family, friends, and parts of my former identity dissolved, there was a sense of being the “odd one out” who could no longer fully relate. 

11. Living in the present moment 

One of the most tangible shifts was my ability to stay present in the here and now, rather than being consumed by mental projections. Through  meditation practices, I rewired my relationship to the human tendency to resist “what is.” In the present moment, there’s an experience of vastness, stillness, and the profound truth that all I’ll ever have is this moment- and that is more than enough.

12. The dark nights of the soul 

The journey of spiritual awakening is not always filled with light and bliss. There are periods of deep darkness, known as the “Dark Nights of the Soul,” that are as crucial to your spiritual evolution as are moments of insight and joy. These times of struggle and inner turmoil test your resolve and ultimately lead to greater transformation.

During these times, you may feel lost, disconnected, and overwhelmed by a sense of emptiness. The comfort of previous beliefs and spiritual experiences may seem distant, and you might question everything you thought you knew.

My spiritual awakening journey had its periods of joy, insight, and transcendence – what I would call “light” experiences that expanded my sense of being. However, these were counterbalanced by “dark nights” of confusion, loss, ego dismantling, and feeling cut off from the sacred light.

If you are going through the spiritual awakening stage of the dark night of the soul, don’t despair. Rather than bypassing these dark nights, a seeker should see them as utterly essential for transformation. It’s in the void spaces of not knowing, of stripping away identities, where many of the great mysteries will be revealed. 

13. Glimpsing higher states of consciousness 

Seekers might experience these glimpses during various stages of their spiritual awakening. These moments of higher consciousness can occur spontaneously or through spiritual practices. They serve as milestones on the path, encouraging the seeker and affirming that they are on the right path.

Throughout my journey, I’ve been fortunate to glimpse higher, expansive states of consciousness that have profoundly reshaped my perception of reality. In these non-dual states, all sense of separation and identification with form dissolves into the radiant expanse of unified consciousness.

During these experiences, I felt like the ocean observing itself as waves, or the pure spaciousness in which all arises and returns. It was a moment where the boundaries of the self melted away, revealing a deep interconnectedness with all that exists. Words fall short in capturing the essence of these states, but they unveil the truth of our infinite, divine nature.

This experiential oneness is not just a philosophical concept. It’s a reality that transforms how we relate to ourselves, others, and the world. From these experiences arises a profound reverence for the Earth and all beings.

14. Arising of pure consciousness 

One of the most profound stages of spiritual awakening is the realization that fundamentally, we are not the body, emotions, or an individual self. At our core, we are pure consciousness.

We are not separate selves at all. Rather, we are the one infinite consciousness exploring and expressing itself through each unique perspective. The very boundaries of self and reality begin dissolving in profound ways during this stage of awakening. 

Integration: 

The final stage of spiritual awakening is integrating the experience of oneness and universal consciousness into daily life. This is the art of bringing the sacred into the mundane – walking between the worlds of nondual wisdom and doing laundry and paying bills.

Integration is about embracing the ordinary with sacred eyes. Every moment becomes an opportunity to express the divine. Washing dishes is no longer just a chore; it becomes an act of love and presence. Paying bills transforms into a recognition of the flow of energy and resources.

As you integrate your spiritual awakening, you begin to live in harmony with both your inner and outer worlds. The peace and insight gained from your spiritual journey need not be confined to moments of meditation or solitude. Instead, they infuse every aspect of your life.

Think of integration as walking between two worlds: the world of spirituality, where everything is seen as one, and the practical world, where you engage with daily responsibilities. 

Service: Feeling called to help and heal

I’ve felt an innate calling to be of service to humanity and all beings. For me, this has taken the form of  teaching, writing, guiding others on the path, and offering myself unconditional to all spiritual seekers.

This intention to help liberate consciousness and alleviate suffering wherever it exists is a beautiful and noble aspiration, which seekers should embody not at the final stages, but from the very beginning.

When you feel this calling, it is as if your heart is whispering a sacred truth: that in serving others, you are serving that one consciousness which is within you and all. This calling is not merely a choice but a profound recognition of your interconnectedness with all life. When you extend your hand to help another, you are not just performing an act of kindness—you are participating in the cosmic dance of healing and  love.

Rajiv Agarwal 

Being Alive

Jeremy Bishop 

Deep sea diver, she casts her net,

and yet swims down deeper below,

where the light is transfixed to go, into the darkness…into the abyss

where a seeming ominous world is really filled with goodness that is luminous

But only few have ever traveled to….

For the body and mind must be prepared, must be developed and strengthened

to see that light that blinds

and still come out the other side.

For it can break you in two if you are not ready.

It can shatter all of you,

and all of you will be left to pieces,

shambles of the self you knew.

Like Humpty Dumpty, who will pick you up?

Who will put you back together?

Only the force that made you could.

But before then, you will be left on the border

of divinity and madness, swimming through the tides

of aliveness

with your unconscious wide open

with the powers of creation and destruction at your grip

with the unseen world louder and brighter and more real

than anything else the body could see or hear.

The inner world will rage and roar like a carnival.

Up will be down, down will be up.

The flaming dragon will fling you to every side

with no remorse or restraint

only fire burning in his eyes.

Right will become wrong, wrong will make no more sense,

and blurring insanity will have filled your cup

until it is overflowing again

into a pool of illusions

with glimpses, you will see,

See so crystal clearly

for sanity will wake back up

and then you will slip back into the darkness and depths

that none around have traveled, so how can they help you climb back up?

No, no, something else must do it….

the inner Savior must come find you,

must take your hand and guide you

into the clear waters of redemption

into the good earth of your amendment

where all is balanced and retained

both the moisture from the rain

and the Sunlight’s nutrients penetrating deep

into your Soul’s enclave.

You are going to need it all.

All Nature must come alive within

and make its home in your heart.

All elements must become the family that supports and nourishes,

become the members that grow you and know you

and teach you and learn you

back in, back out….

sanity starts peaking in

reaching in to your body and mind

til you again have your sight

for this world

for that which you see

and all that you see, that cannot be seen

will become a language between secret friends

and talking and communicating and understanding

will become easy

and you will find yourself happy about this descent.

You will be happy you unraveled out and back again

and are no longer cursing the pains of the world inflicted upon you

by the ignorance of man.

You will come to see the glory that lives in all of them too

and this world will become only, yet unimaginably beautiful to you.

Everything in it….the mad, the sad, the artful and the bore

all will come to be delighted in

and find temperance and feeling for

living inside the softness which cannot be maimed

inside the glow that reflects all rays.

Yes, surely this is what all the madness was for

to get us kneeling on our hands and knees

in utter awe of all the beauty that stands before

poised with the brilliance of sobriety

that comes with the hum of a quiet mind

which melts the heart with wonder and gladness

simply at the experience of being alive.

Jim Tolles

Why You Lost Motivation After Spiritual Awakening?

 

Carl Jung explains why you feel 

numb, lazy, and hopeless 

after a spiritual awakening

1. The Anxiety and Fear After Awakening

Somewhere along your journey of awakening, maybe after a major spiritual insight or a personal breakdown, you felt something shift within you. You saw the illusions of chasing with the world, the unconscious patterns, the futility of achieving. And then… silence.

At first, awakening from the mind’s voice was powerful, even empowering. But slowly, that silent joy just vanished. Not overnight. But quietly. Like the divine turned down the volume on your life and forgot to turn it back up.

Previously, you charged through life like a lion chasing its prey—driven, fierce, and relentless. 

But now that the chase is over, you find yourself standing still like an elephant—majestic and content, yet with a nagging feeling that something exciting is missing from your life.

You stopped chasing. You stopped caring. 

Not recklessly, just quietly, in that existential sigh kind of way. 

The question started whispering louder: 

Why do I feel so numb now that I am finally experiencing the truth within?…

There’s a strange paradox here. 

We expect spiritual awakening to ignite our inner power. 

But it does the opposite for so many—especially the deeply introspective types, the seekers. 

It empties us first. It de-conditioned us.

2. The Psychological Death—Die Before You Die

Carl Jung, the father of analytical psychology, hinted at this post-awakening fog years ago. 

He didn’t talk in trendy spiritual terms, but he understood what happens when the unconscious becomes conscious.

Jung said, 

“Enlightenment doesn’t come by imagining figures of light but by making the darkness conscious.”

That sounds beautiful—until you realize what it means. 

Awakening isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of a psychological death. 

The death of who you thought you were. The structures that gave your life meaning—goals, careers, relationships, even your sense of time of past and future—all collapse.….

But here’s the catch: your senses and thinking are confused. 

1. They all constitute a confused ego. 
2. Your center of life has shifted from your mind to your inner Being. 
3. Your life is getting partially operated by the inner Being as your awakening is not complete yet. 

So it’s not that you’re depressed or have lost motivation. 

You’re just in in-between. 

You’ve awakened from your mind’s tyranny, but you still haven’t functioned fully from your inner being yet.

What you’re feeling right now isn’t failure. It’s not depression or anxiety in the clinical sense. 

It’s something sacred.

Jung actually warned that our modern world avoids this phase at all costs—this sacred pause, this void, this in-between. He believed it was essential for true individuation—the process of becoming one's authentic self.

The word “individuation” feels egoistic, but it means realizing your True Self in Jung’s terminology.

But no one tells you about this part, do they?

That’s exactly what we’re going to unravel next: what’s really happening in your psyche after awakening, and how this loss of motivation might be the biggest spiritual upgrade you’ve ever experienced—if you understand it right.

3. The Ego Lost Its Fuel

If you’ve been floating in that post-awakening fog, wondering where your spark went, know you’re not crazy. You’re going through a psychological shift most people can’t name—a change so significant it doesn’t just tweak your thinking; it reprograms your whole operating system of existence

All the goals you used to chase,

the to-do lists,

the five-year plans,

productivity playlists

They don’t move you anymore. 

Not because you’re failing but because your motivation system itself is collapsing. 

And Carl Jung saw this coming long before it became a trending topic on social media.

For most of your life, your motivation came from your ego identity—the “me” you thought you were. You wanted to prove yourself, be seen, be successful, be loved. 

That’s not a bad thing. It’s how human Ego development works.

Jung called this the persona—the mask we wear to function in society. 

But the awakening process strips the mask. 

Suddenly, you’re not trying to be liked. 

You’re not trying to win the game—because you see the futility of the game.

And that’s where it gets weird.

Without the mask, your old goals don’t fit anymore. 

They were tailored to a worldly version of you that doesn’t exist. 

So now, you’re like a character in a play who stepped off the stage and can’t figure out what your role is anymore.

That’s why you feel unmotivated. 

You didn’t lose drive—you outgrew the egoic fuel that powered it.

4. Spiritual Rebirth Through the Dark Night of the Soul

Jung believed we’re not here to serve the ego. 

We’re here to integrate it, to surrender to its source—Being. 

He named this process individuation—the journey of transforming from a fragmented identity into a whole, unified self.

Not the small self that wants praise, but the Self, your inner essence that connects to everything.

This Self doesn’t care about 

status, approval, or even clarity. 

It’s here to express the truth.

So once the awakening happens, your psyche starts recalibrating. 

It begins rejecting anything fake, forced, or ego-based. 

That includes jobs, relationships, ambitions, and even your carefully crafted dream board from 2025.

That’s why people often describe awakening as both freeing and disorienting.

But Jung warned: If we stop here, we get stuck.

Some people awaken and fall into the trap of spiritual bypassing, convincing themselves that nothing matters and that it’s all just illusion. So they disconnect, float, and numb out. They confuse detachment with disengagement.

But the Self wants to bring awareness through your mind-body into this world.

It wants access to this world through an awakened being—you. 

It wants to bring heaven into this world by spreading awareness through you. 

It doesn’t reject the world. It redefines your role in it.

5. Your Role: Messenger of Awareness

In order to step into that, you’ve got to go through a weird middle phase Jung described perfectly—and few people recognize while they’re in it.

The Sacred Phase of Being Nothing & Nobody

There’s a phase after awakening that almost no one talks about. It’s not glamorous and doesn’t get you recognition and thousands of likes. It doesn’t look like meditating in Bali or writing profound Instagram quotes.

It looks like this: sitting in silence, unable to explain and express yourself, while the world keeps rushing by.

Carl Jung would say you’re not lost. You’re in between. 

You’ve disidentified from the ego, but haven’t yet found a new way to live from the Self (Being).

This space is not a failure. It marks a significant transitional period in a person’s life. 

But in our hyperproductive world, stillness gets misdiagnosed as laziness. 

Pause gets mistaken for paralysis. 

So you judge yourself by thinking that there is something wrong with you—and that judgment blocks the energy of your Being that is trying to speak to you.

Jung had a term for this psychological pause: enantiodromia, the process where things flip into their opposite.

Carl Jung’s enantiodromia is the idea that everything, when taken to its extreme, eventually turns into its opposite.

In simple words:

If you push too far in one direction, life will pull you back the other way.

For example:

• If you are overly disciplined and controlling, you might suddenly break down and become impulsive or chaotic.

• If you chase success obsessively, you might one day feel completely worthless and unmotivated. (As your mind identity will break due to awakening)

Jung believed this “flip” isn’t a failure — it’s nature’s way of restoring balance to your psyche.

When you awaken, your inner pendulum swings from ego-driven striving to stillness of Being. 

You go from “I must do everything” to “Why do anything?” 

And this swing is sacred. It’s how balance is restored.

In myth and ancient teachings, this is the hermit phase—the death before rebirth. 

It’s the moment the caterpillar turns to soup inside the cocoon. 

Not a butterfly yet. Not a bug anymore. Just… formlessness.

And yeah, formlessness doesn’t hustle.

This is where the ego panics. It wants action, identity, and direction. 

But the Self is whispering, Let go. I’m building something deeper.

6.  The Rise of a New Inspiration Within

Here’s where most modern spirituality skips the difficult aspects. 

It teaches, “Just follow your passion,” "Be in high vibes only,” or “Think positive.”

Some books say you can achieve anything you want. 

Just Ask, Believe, Recieve.

And yes, you can manifest that way, but whatever you manifest has its opposite, too. 

Pleasure comes with pain.

While intention and energy matter, Carl Jung would tell you that if you try to skip the darkness, you skip the gold.

Jung believed shadow integration—bringing the light to repressed, unconscious parts of oneself—is essential for becoming whole. It's not optional. It’s the core curriculum of being a conscious human.

You’re not failing. 

Your psyche is incredibly wise. 

It will stall your motivation, drive, and even your access to clarity on purpose, so you’re forced to feel, witness, and reclaim what you’ve buried—to bring light to the darkness of unconsciousness.

That’s the real work.

And here’s the beautiful twist: when you stop resisting the void, something strange starts to happen.

Motivation begins to return. But it feels different this time. 

It’s not anxious. It’s not achieving. It’s not performative. It’s not hustle. It’s not wanting.

It’s intuitive. It’s selfless. Its good-for-everybody.

7. Living from Being—The Symbolic Life

So you’ve walked through the void. You’ve felt the silence, the stillness, the deep pause. 

And now something new is starting to stir inside you.

Not a lightning bolt. Not fireworks. 

More like a quiet inner pull—not to go back to your old life, but to build a new one in service of others.

This is where the Self begins to speak. 

Not in words, but in nudges. 

In resonance. 

In what Carl Jung called the symbolic life. 

He believed that once the ego has surrendered, we become capable of living from a place deeper than personality.

That’s when life stops being about survival—and becomes about meaning.

And here’s an unexpected fact: it’s often beautifully ordinary.

• When the Self leads, you don’t hustle. You respond. 
• You’re not motivated by fear of missing out. You’re guided by what feels divine and aligned. 
• You no longer chase clarity. You recognize it when it arrives. Because you are living from the abundance of Being

Living from the Self doesn’t mean you’ll always feel motivated in the traditional sense. 

You might still feel waves of fatigue, confusion—even grief. That’s being human.

But you won’t feel that constant sense of inner abhorrence—the feeling of dragging yourself through a life that doesn’t fit.

1. Instead, you might start to notice you’re drawn to create, even when no one’s watching. 
2. You say no to things that don’t resonate—even if they look good on paper. 
3. You start following your curiosity, not your checklist. You choose peace over performance.

This is the new fuel. It’s not adrenaline. It’s awareness.

Jung called this living symbolically—not in fantasy but with Being. 

It is where you begin to trust your inner intuitions, synchronicities, and gut feelings for guidance.

So, what does this look like in real life?

Sometimes, it’s as simple as asking different questions.

1. Instead of “What do I want?” ask, “What does life want from me?”
2. Instead of “What can I get?” ask, “How can I give myself to it?”
3. Instead of “What should I do?” ask, “What’s my inner calling telling me?”
4. Instead of “How can I prove myself?” ask, “What feels true now?

You begin to participate with life instead of trying to dominate it.

And this doesn’t mean giving up ambition. It means transforming it. 

Ambition becomes devotion—to truth, to presence, to service. And the irony is, that kind of energy gets things done way more effectively than ego ever could.

But now it’s sustainable. Now it’s Being-powered.

This is the Self’s motivation—not to impress, but to express. 

And it often leads you to create, serve, heal, teach, and build—not because you should, but because your whole being says yes.

So, if you’ve been feeling like your spark is gone after awakening, it’s the old fire that burned down so that you could find a deeper flame—one that doesn’t flicker when external winds blow.

If you’re here, reading this, you’re already walking that path. 

It’s not about getting back your old motivation. 

It’s about discovering a new one, rooted in Beingness, in wholeness, not performance. 

Surrender and let the divine use your mind and body to fulfill the purpose of the universe.

Aby Vohra

On the Death of the Beloved

 

Style Arena

Though we need to weep your loss,

You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,

Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn

Brightening over our lives

Awakening beneath the dark

A further adventure of colour.

The sound of your voice

Found for us

A new music

That brightened everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze

Quickened in the joy of its being;

You placed smiles like flowers

On the altar of the heart.

Your mind always sparkled

With wonder at things.

Though your days here were brief,

Your spirit was live, awake, complete.

We look towards each other no longer

From the old distance of our names;

Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,

As close to us as we are to ourselves.

Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,

We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,

Smiling back at us from within everything

To which we bring our best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory,

Where we would grow lonely without you.

You would want us to find you in presence,

Beside us when beauty brightens,

When kindness glows

And music echoes eternal tones.

When orchids brighten the earth,

Darkest winter has turned to spring;

May this dark grief flower with hope

In every heart that loves you.

May you continue to inspire us:

To enter each day with a generous heart.

To serve the call of courage and love

Until we see your beautiful face again

In that land where there is no more separation,

Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,

And where we will never lose you again. 

John O’Donohue

On Losing Someone You Love

pixabay

 

Why the Stoics didn’t want you to suppress your pain and how to stop building an identity around your loss.

My grandmother passed away four years ago. She was a large part of my childhood, and in the years since she's been gone I have thought about her more than I ever did while she was alive. 

Grief does that. 

It returns the person to you in a different form, after you no longer have them in the form you were used to. 

If you have ever lost someone you love, you already know that no writing can touch what you carry. Words don’t go where grief goes. I write this knowing that, and knowing some of you are reading it while the loss is still raw, and others are reading it while carrying something older that never quite settled.

Nothing here will lift what you’re carrying. The Stoics never claimed their philosophy could. What they offered, and what I want to pass on as carefully as I can, is a way of thinking about grief that doesn’t shame you for feeling it and doesn’t trap you inside it.

The Stoics have a reputation for being cold about grief, and almost everything the standard picture says they meant is wrong.

The reputation comes from three places, and once you know where it comes from you can see how the misreading happened. Epictetus has a line about kissing your child as though they might die tomorrow, which sounds chilling out of context and has been quoted out of context for two thousand years. The word apatheia gets translated as having no feelings, when what the Stoics meant was something closer to not being controlled by reactive passions. And the practice of premeditatio malorum, the deliberate contemplation of loss, sounds morbid until you understand it as a way of refusing to take what you love for granted.

Put together, these three things produced a caricature of Stoicism as the philosophy of the stiff upper lip. Don’t grieve. Don’t feel. Get on with it.

This is the opposite of what they actually said.

In one of his letters to Lucilius, Seneca responds to the death of Lucilius’s friend Flaccus. 

The letter survives as Letter 63 in his collected correspondence, and it contains one of the most overlooked sentences in the Stoic tradition on the subject of grief.

Seneca’s position, restated in plain modern English:

Don’t weep too much, and don’t refrain from weeping.

That’s the Stoic position on grief. 

The tears are not the problem. 

Pretending the tears shouldn’t be there is one kind of problem. 

Building a life around the tears is another kind of problem. 

Between those two is where the Stoics actually lived.

Seneca elaborated and wrote that to feel no grief at the loss of a friend would mean we hadn’t really had a friend. The grief is the evidence that the love was real. Removing the grief would mean removing the love retrospectively, which is exactly the move the caricature accuses Stoicism of recommending and which the actual tradition consistently refused.

The philosophical work underneath this distinction was done over generations within the Stoic school. Later Stoic writers distinguished between the first involuntary movements of emotion and the judgments we add afterward. When you lose someone you love, the first wave of feeling, the gasp, the tears, the way the body buckles when the news arrives, was not treated as a fully chosen moral failure. It was the kind of thing that can happen before reason has had time to assent or refuse. 

No philosophy could or should try to legislate it out of existence.

The strictest early version of Stoicism had leaned toward treating emotional responses as judgments through and through, which means in principle they could be reasoned with. Later thinkers, including Posidonius, complicated that picture. Some responses arrive before reason gets there.

Grief, in its first wave, is one of them.

To tell someone in fresh loss not to feel what they’re feeling is to ask them to perform a kind of mental gymnastics that human bodies aren’t built for and that no Stoic worth reading ever actually recommended.

What the Stoics did want to talk about is what we do with the grief afterward. 

The first wave isn’t up for evaluation.

What comes after is.

There are two ways we tend to betray our grief, and both of them are betrayals of the love that produced it.

The first is suppression. 

Treating grief as weakness. Performing okayness in front of others, and increasingly in front of ourselves. Moving on quickly because the people around us seem to want us to. Filing the loss into the past tense and refusing to revisit it, because revisiting hurts.

The Stoics noticed this and called it what it is. 

If we can lose someone we loved and feel nothing, we are saying retroactively that we hadn’t really had them. The suppression looks like strength. It is actually a small denial, repeated daily, that the love was ever there.

The second betrayal is the opposite. 

Building an identity around the loss. 

Letting the grief organize the rest of life. Treating the grief as the thing we owe the person we lost, and slowly converting them into an emblem of our suffering rather than letting them remain who they actually were.

This one is harder to see clearly, because it feels like loyalty. 

• Doesn’t it seem disloyal to soften? 
• To allow joy back in? 
• To find ourselves laughing one day and realize we forgot for an hour that they were gone?

The person clinging to grief as devotion is usually avoiding something harder than mourning. 

Grief that stays a wound asks nothing of you except that you keep it. 

Grief that becomes a continuing influence asks you to act on what they gave you, in your own life, with no further confirmation from them about whether you’re doing it right. 

The grief stays intact because the alternative is to convert the loss from something done to you into something you now have to do something with. 

The wound is the easier position.

Seneca anticipated this and wrote a long consolation to a woman named Marcia, who had lost her son three years before and was still organizing her life around the loss as if it had happened that morning. He is not gentle by modern standards. He believes her grief has become its own thing, separate now from the love that produced it.

“Three years have already passed, and still your grief has lost none of its first poignancy, but renews and strengthens itself day by day, and has now dwelt so long with you that it has acquired a domicile in your mind, and actually thinks that it would be base to leave it. All vices sink into our whole being, if we do not crush them before they gain a footing; and in like manner these sad, pitiable, and discordant feelings end by feeding upon their own bitterness, until the unhappy mind takes a sort of morbid delight in grief. I should have liked, therefore, to have attempted to effect this cure in the earliest stages of the disorder, before its force was fully developed; it might have been checked by milder remedies, but now that it has been confirmed by time it cannot be beaten without a hard struggle.” 

— Seneca, Consolation to Marcia, 1.7.

The phrase to sit with is “acquired a domicile in your mind.” 

The grief has become a tenant. It has its own room. It has lived there long enough that Marcia has started believing it would be shameful to leave it, which is Seneca’s diagnosis. Earlier in the same letter, he puts the same idea more bluntly. He tells Marcia he intends to dry her eyes, which “already, to tell you the truth, are weeping more from habit than from sorrow.” That is the moment the grief and the love come apart. The tears keep arriving, but they are no longer arriving from the place the love lived. They are arriving from the routine the loss carved.

Seneca was hard on timing. He thought time usually does its work, and that three years was already long enough for the usual softening to have happened. In Marcia’s case it hadn’t, which is why he wrote.

I don’t want to pass that timing on. There is no correct date by which grief should have resolved into something gentler, and the people I’ve known who carry old grief well have not been on anyone’s schedule.

What I want to take from Seneca is the diagnostic underneath the timing, not the timing itself.

Grief can eventually stop expressing love and 

start feeding on itself.

Duration tells you nothing. A grief of two months can already be habit, and a grief of ten years can still be doing real work. What matters is what the grief is still for. 

Marcia’s son would not have wanted to be remembered as a wound. 

By keeping the grief intact, she was preserving him as a wound rather than letting him become what he could become inside her, a continuing influence on the way she lived.

The shift Seneca was pointing toward is rarely talked about clearly. 

It runs from grief that wounds to grief that becomes something else. 

A kind of warm remembering. 

A way of carrying someone forward that doesn’t require keeping yourself broken on their behalf.

There is only the slow, unforced movement that happens when grief is allowed to do its work without being either crushed or curated.

What does grief actually do, if you let it do its work?

Hierocles gave the Stoics one of their clearest images of human life as relational. 

The self at the center, then the rings of family, fellow citizens, and finally humanity.

The image was originally a way of thinking about duties and appropriate action, but it points at something deeper. We are not the isolated individuals we sometimes imagine ourselves to be. The configuration of our attention, our care, our daily concern, has always been bound up with the people in those inner rings.

If this is right, and the Stoics were not the only thinkers to suspect it was, then losing someone you loved can feel like losing part of yourself, because part of your life really was shaped around them.

The configuration of who you are had become organized partly through them, and now the organization continues in their absence, like a vine continuing to grow in the shape the trellis gave it after the trellis is gone.

This is why grief is the correct response. 

Something has actually been removed. 

The grief is your system registering the removal accurately.

But here’s what’s also true, and what the Stoics understood and what much modern grief discourse can flatten. The shaping the person did is still there. The way you notice certain things, the small gestures you picked up without realizing you were picking them up, the values you hold, the particular way you treat someone who needs the kind of care this person once gave you. Some of that is them, still alive in you. Not in the soft sense people sometimes mean when they say someone lives on in our hearts, but in the practical sense that lineage works this way. We carry forward what we received.

The Stoic consolation, if there is one, is this.

The grief is evidence the love was real. The love produced something in you that survives the loss. What survives is what they gave. What they gave is now yours to carry forward, into the way you live, into how you treat the people still here, into who you become from this point on.

This isn’t faster healing, and the loss stays exactly as large as it actually is.

It is a way of refusing two betrayals at once. 

The grief is permitted, because the love was real. 

The softening is permitted, because the love continues, in a different form, in you. 

Both can be true. Holding both is what the Stoics meant by grieving well.

There’s no schedule for this. There never was.

Some readers will be in the part of grief where Seneca's letter to Marcia is exactly the wrong thing to read, because the wound is too fresh and the only honest response is to feel it. If that's you, set this aside. The question Seneca was pressing on Marcia is not the question fresh grief needs.

For readers further along, or carrying an older grief that’s gone quiet but never quite settled, Seneca pointed Marcia toward a harder question. 

Is the grief still doing its work, or has it become something you’re keeping intact because softening would feel like betrayal?

Seneca’s answer to that question, for Marcia and for anyone since, was that 

the softening is itself a form of fidelity. 

To let the wound become warm remembering is not to lose them again. It is to finally let them be inside you the way they were trying to be the whole time. 

As evidence of what was given, rather than as evidence of what was taken.

What’s left, in the end, is small and specific. 

A turn of phrase you use that came from them and you didn’t know it came from them. 

The way you do something small in the kitchen because that’s how they did it. 

The way you reach for the person beside you when something good happens, because that’s what they taught you to do. 

The way you treat the next person who needs the kind of care they once gave you.

My grandmother was the kindest person I have ever known. People who only met her once remembered her. Nobody had a bad word about her, not because she was performing kindness, but because there was nothing else in her to perform. She was kind the way water is wet. It was simply what she was made of.

What she gave me, without ever sitting me down to teach it, was the conviction that being kind to people is the most important thing you can do with a life. I don’t always live up to it. I am more impatient and quicker to judge. But she is in me anyway. When I'm patient with someone who needs it, when I stay on the phone longer than I planned, when I give someone the benefit of the doubt, that is her, working through me, four years after she stopped being able to do it herself.

She is the reason I believe what this post has been arguing. That lineage is real. That love produces something durable inside the people who received it. That the dead go on shaping the living, in small daily ways, if the living let them. I am not done grieving her. I don’t think I ever will be entirely. But the grief has become, slowly, a way of carrying her forward rather than a wound I keep dressing.

That is what she would have wanted.

That is what I owe her.

in, Stoic Wisdom

Basket of Figs

Pumarck-Favim

 Bring me your pain, love. Spread 

it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, 

warm eggs, cinnamon

and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me

the detail, the intricate embroidery 

on the collar, tiny shell buttons, 

the hem stitched the way you were taught,

pricking just a thread, almost invisible.

Unclasp it like jewels, the gold 

still hot from your body. Empty 

your basket of figs. Spill your wine.

That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, 

cradling it on my tongue like the slick 

seed of pomegranate. I would lift it

tenderly, as a great animal might 

carry a small one in the private 

cave of the mouth.

Ellen Bass

in,  Mules of Love