What Stillness Revealed About Love

Sound baths have been a steady part of my life for the past couple of years.

They’re a practice I return to again and again—
not to escape, but to listen.
To slow down enough to tune into my body, quiet my mind, and allow whatever wants to surface to do so.

Each session offers something different.
Sometimes physical release.
Sometimes emotional softening.
Sometimes a single insight that lingers long after the bowls fall silent.

I’ve learned to trust that every sound bath carries a piece of wisdom, even if it reveals itself slowly.

Recently, I attended one that included chakra work and Reiki.
I went in with no grand expectations—
only a simple intention: to release whatever emotional residue still lingered from the year.

At first, the sounds moved gently, familiar and grounding. Nothing dramatic.

Then the Reiki began.

It felt like a weighted blanket settling over me— not heavy, but deeply stabilizing.
My nervous system softened. My body finally felt safe enough to let go.

And that’s when awareness unfolded.

Moments from the year surfaced quietly—
subtle disappointments, misunderstandings, times I felt unseen or misread.

Nothing explosive. Just small emotional fragments I’d carried without noticing how much space they took.

I had entered intending to “release negativity,”
but I hadn’t realized how much those moments had quietly closed my heart.

The night before, I’d been reading The Intuitive Rebirth,
which speaks of opening the heart as a gateway to intuition and alignment. It had resonated in my mind.

In that Reiki stillness, it landed in my body.

I saw clearly: the discomfort I’d been holding wasn’t asking me to guard myself more. It was inviting me to open more deeply.

That realization surprised me.

I began to notice how easily love becomes conditional.
How subtly we tie openness to being understood, acknowledged, met in the way we expect.
When that doesn’t happen, the heart contracts—
often without us even realizing.

What emerged instead was a simple truth:

Love doesn’t require agreement, validation, or reciprocity to exist.

This isn’t about abandoning boundaries or tolerating harm.
It’s about recognizing that love isn’t transactional. It isn’t something we withhold until conditions feel safe.
Love, at its core, is a state of being.

At the same time, another layer clarified.

I’ve often wondered whether certain perceptions about others were intuition or something else.
In that stillness, the difference became obvious.

Intuition is calm. Spacious. Neutral.
Projection is charged. Tight. Repetitive.

When the body relaxes, intuition doesn’t shout—it clarifies.

I saw that some of what I’d called intuition was actually old conditioning seeking confirmation.
Once the emotional charge dissolved, what remained wasn’t fear or defensiveness, but understanding.

People’s reactions—toward me, toward life—are often mirrors of their own inner world.
They don’t need to be personalized.
They don’t need to be carried.

And I don’t need to close my heart because of them.

Opening the heart doesn’t mean becoming passive or self-sacrificing.
It means staying rooted in love without abandoning yourself.
It means choosing presence over story, compassion over contraction.

This shift didn’t come from forcing forgiveness or reframing everything positively.
It came from being still long enough to feel what was actually present in the body—
and allowing it to soften on its own.

Since that session, I’ve carried a quiet intention: to notice the subtle moments where my heart begins to close,
and to gently choose openness instead.

Not performatively. But embodied.

Because alignment isn’t always about doing more.
Sometimes it’s about removing what hardens us.

Love, I’m learning, isn’t about being liked.
It’s about being aligned.

And when the heart opens in that way—
grounded, unattached, present—
intuition becomes clearer, life feels lighter,
and alignment stops being something we chase and becomes something we return to.

Quiet shifts like this don’t announce themselves.

But they change everything.

With quiet gratitude for this shared space.