Today my deeper dive brings me to another aspect of embodiment with which I have been struggling: witnessing and allowing.
I imagine this is a challenge for many of us, especially at this time in human history. Even as I contemplate what to write, I feel the urge to speak firmly about things I hold as truth. Allowing others to hold and express their beliefs can be difficult when what I hear or see seems unjust or untrue.
On my personal pages, I have often felt compelled to share something in the hope of stirring people out of what I perceive as apathy or encouraging them to question a perspective. Yet I am beginning to look more closely at the place within me from which that impulse arises.
This morning, while listening to a program about the Templars, with whom I feel a deep spiritual connection, something became clearer.
In experiences I understand as memories of other lifetimes, I see myself speaking out against unjust authority, oppression, and inhumanity. In those memories, speaking carried a terrible price, sometimes involving betrayal by those I trusted.
For me, this connects with what is sometimes called the “witch wound”: the fear of persecution for being seen, speaking openly, or holding beliefs that others reject. The image reaches beyond witches to the pain of being punished for one’s voice or identity.
In this life, I have continued to protest, although more quietly. When I witness cruelty or persecution, it touches something deep within me.
Others may know this pain through experiences in their present lives. We do not need identical memories or beliefs to recognize the hurt of being silenced, or the courage it takes to speak.
I have long admired people such as Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and so many others who stood against injustice. The question remains within me: If no one speaks or acts, how will anything change?
This morning, however, I felt reminded to consider the source of my own words and actions.
I felt called back to the path of Remembrance, alignment, and embodiment that I find in the teachings of Buddha and Yeshua: witnessing, allowing, and doing from a place of Being.
For me, this means allowing Presence to guide my response. It means recognizing when my protector is speaking through an old wound and gently making room for a deeper wisdom to be heard.
My protector is not wrong for wanting to prevent suffering. It has tried to keep me safe. But it does not have to carry the responsibility for awakening everyone or correcting every belief I encounter.
As I understand it, witnessing means being willing to see what is before me, including my own reactions. Allowing means respecting another person’s freedom to come to understanding in their own time. Neither requires me to approve of harm or abandon compassionate boundaries.
There can still be a clear no. There can still be words spoken, help offered, and action taken.
The invitation is to pause long enough to discern what is mine to do and what is driving me to do it.
When I am rooted in Presence, I understand the love and light of creation as a flame flowing through my Being. I hope that what I share may touch those who resonate with it and encourage them to recognize their own inner flame.
That recognition belongs to them. I cannot choose it on their behalf.
We can offer a perspective, ask a question, or live in a way that invites reflection. But another person’s remembrance must have room to arise through their own sovereignty.
And I, too, must remain willing to see where my understanding is incomplete.
As I wrote this morning, I began to understand more fully why I have felt drawn to step back from some of my posts about current events. I was noticing a distance between the peace I spoke of in my spiritual writing and the urgency behind some of my personal sharing.
The subject matter itself was not the whole issue. It was what was happening within me as I shared it. Was I offering something with clarity and care, or was I caught in the need to make someone else see?
I was reminded of a friend’s post about sharing different perspectives so that others could consider more than one side. A comment raised the question of contradiction. I did not read the entire exchange closely, and I cannot speak to what either person intended. Yet that word stayed with me and turned my attention inward.
Where was I asking others to live from their inner sovereignty while struggling to allow them that freedom myself?
Where was I speaking of Oneness while responding from an old place of hurt?
These questions were an invitation to bring my personality, my human feelings, and my Presence into a more loving relationship.
As I continued writing, the phrase “Physician, heal thyself” came to mind with a touch of gentle humor. I had begun with a topic to share and found myself being invited deeper into my own healing.
Perhaps this is only the beginning of what witnessing and allowing will teach me.
It is difficult to see inhumanity and remain steady. Sometimes love calls us to speak immediately or offer practical help. At other times, there is room to stop, breathe, enter the stillness, and listen before responding.
I am learning that I can care deeply without carrying every outcome. I can speak honestly while leaving room for another person’s understanding to unfold.
Words offered with love may still meet disagreement. An action guided by conscience may still be resisted. I cannot determine how others will receive me. I can take responsibility for the care, clarity, and intention I bring.
This is the practice before me now: to witness what is happening around me and within me, to allow space for understanding, and to let Presence guide what comes next.
I share this in the hope that it may offer companionship to someone experiencing the same inner turmoil. I am still learning how to live it, one response at a time.
Peace be with you.
Namaste.
