What if healing isn’t always about curing?
What if it’s something far more tender, more reverent—something that brings us back to ourselves?
Healing is not necessarily the cure for disease, though sometimes it can be. In a broader sense, healing is the recognition that everything—our bodies, our minds, our emotions, and our lives—is energy. And as souls here on Earth, in this very human form, we are energy too. Pure energy at every level.
We move through the world interacting with people, places, emotions, and ideas, always seeking balance, alignment, and harmony—whether consciously or not.
We might even begin to reframe what it means to heal—not as something to “do” or “achieve,” but as a process of wholing ourselves. A returning. A softening. A releasing of judgment and criticism. A remembering of the natural harmony already within us.
From this holistic perspective, no one needs fixing. You are living your unique human experience—and you are already whole and complete, just as you are.
The journey of healing is an exploration of the whole self.
It’s an unfolding of the many layers that make us who we are—physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. It may include the past, the present, even the unknown future. It can be confronting. It can be confusing. But above all, it is a sacred act of self-compassion.
True healing, I’ve found, is remembering your wholeness.
Accepting yourself—even the imperfect parts.
Embracing the pieces you celebrate, and the ones you hide.
Sometimes, healing lies in the shadows, quietly waiting to be seen, accepted, and loved.
And that’s the thing—healing, or wholing, is not a straight line.
There is no neat beginning, middle, or end. I didn’t “get better” all at once. I still haven’t, and I’m quite comfortable with that. After years of chasing the idea of being “healed,” I’ve come to understand that this is an ongoing path. A spiralling return, again and again, to presence and truth.
Now, I let things be more often. I don’t chase resolutions. I sit with what’s here. I greet it with more curiosity and less urgency. I surprise myself with what still surfaces—what’s held in the skin, in the soul. But I welcome it, knowing it’s all part of the becoming.
At one point, I believed what I needed was “healing.” But what I really needed was attention.
Gentle, honest attention.
I needed to see myself beyond the conditioned layers. To meet myself—raw, vulnerable, real.
That wasn’t easy. And I couldn’t have done it alone.
When we’re deep in pain, overwhelmed, or lost in old wounds, it’s hard to be objective. I was there once. Exhausted, anxious, not understanding what I was carrying. I reached for Reiki to help me “sort a few things out.” What I found was the beginning of a deep inward journey—one that would eventually become my profession, but first had to become my own healing.
Sometimes, we simply need care.
A moment of rest. A safe space to breathe.
We may feel burdened, in grief, or just out of alignment. Sometimes, we’re just seeking comfort or recalibration before things get too heavy. Whatever brings us to a healing space is valid. And choosing to receive that care is an act of love toward ourselves.
Healing doesn’t always come with lightning bolts. It’s often quiet. Gentle. Layered.
If you’re called to begin or deepen your healing path, I encourage you to explore what resonates. Find practitioners who honour your pace. Try different modalities. Use allopathic medicine and support in tanden to complement holistic practices if required. Feel into what feels true for you. You don’t need to know what you need—just that you’re ready to explore.
A true healer doesn’t fix you—they walk beside you. They reflect your light. They guide you back to your own knowing. In that supported space, you begin to remember your inner compass. You begin to trust it. And in time, you realise you’ve always been the healer of your own life.
Working with energy often brings unexpected clarity. What we thought needed “fixing” may just have needed space. So much of what we carry is shaped by culture, trauma, belief systems, or survival. And yet, all of it can be met with compassion. All of it can be held in love.
Holistic healing invites us to honour every aspect of ourselves:
The present, the past, the unfolding future.
Our bodies, our emotions, our spirit, our soul.
Even the parts we’ve never fully met.
And slowly, we learn to hold space for it all. Without judgment. Without needing to be different. Just as we are—flawed, beautiful, multifaceted beings, learning how to live.
As we walk this path, we may begin to sense the threads that connect us.
To each other.
To nature.
To something greater than ourselves.
Healing becomes not only a personal process, but a widening of perspective. A deepening of connection. A remembering of belonging.
It’s not always easy. It’s not always comfortable.
But it is always an invitation to come home to yourself.
To begin a healing journey is to offer yourself deep kindness.
It is a return.
A reconnection.
A homecoming.
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