The Shift

The Inner Shift

We aren't taught how to go inward, how to drop into the silence within, how to shut off the noise around us.

Our education is in the roar of expectations, the clamor of achievement, the thunder of fear — they were so loud, and so convincing. They lay the path for us, and before we know it, we're far down a path that we were never meant to walk.

One day, we wake up and wonder, what is me?

We struggle to parse what is us from what has been given to us — projection, expectations of others, fantasy, ego, and external pressure.

It wasn't until I reached a kind of breaking point — the kind where your entire inner scaffolding crumbles — that I began to hear it. Maybe it took chaos for me to sit in the eye of the storm and finally notice, but I don't think you have to.

Because the truth is – this quiet, still part, is always there. It always has been, it always will be, because it is ancient in nature. It exists in the bones of our ancestors, in the wisdom carried through bloodlines stretching back through millennia.

This knowing dwelled in the hearts of those who gathered around fires when the world was young, who gazed at the same stars we see today, who felt this same presence within themselves. It is a continuum of consciousness that has flowed through human experience since our earliest beginnings, connecting us to every seeker who has ever turned inward to find truth.

It is the part that has direct access to source, universe, God, being – semantics aside, it is the wise self, the knowing self.

It never appeared like a voice, not even like a thought. More like a movement, a shifting, a felt sense – like being gently pulled by an unseen current.

At first, when it whispered, I didn't trust it. I told myself it was impractical. Irrational. Immature.

But the body doesn't lie. And the soul doesn't shout. It waits.

Learning to listen meant unlearning urgency. In this quiet space, there are no timelines or deadlines. There are no strategies or to-do lists.

You'll know it by its resonance: a sense of rightness in your chest, a loosening in your jaw, an opening in your belly, expanding lunges with a cool breath in.

My body was the first translator.

And I learned to decipher its cues. I learned to slow down, notice, and trust it. But it took a time.

It was hard to believe this part knew best. So I went out of myself again, and looked for confirmation, demanded further proof, but it only ever confused me.

Until one day, I stopped inviting others into the conversation with myself.

Instead, I just followed the thread of what felt alive. Only to me. Only within me.

That's how I learned to listen. Not with my ears. With my being.

And the quieter I got, the clearer the truth became.