Hello, deep breath to have a look at the text below, received from Jane Barlow, US herbalist.
It touched me deeply and thank you all for sharing and the text might speak to some of us
People refer to me as that crazy person and yet they appear to trust me. There you go!
In kinship, with well developed sense of humour, with blessings.
I love dogs and ........... the outside is a trusted companion most of the time.
There is something no one tells you about awakening until you’re already neck-deep in it:
It’s lonely.
Excruciatingly, bewilderingly lonely.
Even when you’re surrounded by people.
Even when you know more than ever.
Even when your heart is opening and your soul is expanding…
There’s a silence that settles.
There’s a distance that grows between who you were and who you’re becoming.
And often, there’s no one around who truly understands what it’s costing you to awaken.
This isn’t because you’re doing it wrong.
This isn’t because you’re broken and sad.
This is because truth isolates before it liberates.
You are shedding skins, roles, illusions, entire versions of yourself, many of which were crafted just to feel safe, loved, accepted. When those begin to fall away, so too does your sense of belonging in the world that reinforced them.
And that loss? It can feel unbearable.
What part of me have I silenced just to belong in a world that never truly saw me?
What would rise if I chose truth over comfort?
These are the questions that echo when you wake up in the night and nothing feels real anymore.
Loneliness in awakening is not a punishment. It’s a passage.
When you start to hear your soul clearly, you may also realize how much of your life was lived out of alignment with it. You may feel misunderstood, disconnected from old passions, intolerant of surface conversations, unsure of where you fit in the world you once called home.
This is the void between worlds.
The space where the old no longer holds you, and the new has not yet landed.
It’s not just hard. It’s sacred.
Am I willing to grieve who I thought I was, to remember who I’ve always been?
That grief is holy. That ache is a doorway.
The loneliness is the soul’s silence before it speaks again, not in words, but in knowing
So, if you’re there now, in the emptiness, the disorientation, the exhaustion that doesn’t lift, please hear me. Truly. Let this reach into the place that still wonders if you’ve taken a wrong turn.
You are not lost.
You are not behind.
You are not being punished for missing something, doing it wrong, or waking up too slowly.
You are being hollowed.
Not out of cruelty, but out of sacred design.
You are being emptied so that something deeper, truer, older than time itself can finally echo inside you again.
What if this loneliness, this aching silence that so often feels like abandonment, is not a sign of failure, but a clearing?
A preparation.
A sacred emptiness being carved so that something vast and holy can finally take root.
Let it be lonely.
Let it be quiet.
Let it be raw.
But don’t let it make you forget who you are.
Because you are not the broken thing crawling toward wholeness.
You are the Divine itself, wrapped in skin and forgetting, remembering through the language of your ache.
And yes, that remembering comes at a cost.
It costs comfort.
It costs certainty.
It costs the kind of companionship that only works when you stay asleep.
But what it gives in return… is everything.
It gives you truth.
It gives you clarity.
It gives you love, the kind that doesn't just soothe, but transfigures.
The kind that doesn’t come from fixing yourself, but from finally seeing that you were never broken to begin with.
You are walking through fire.
And yes, you’re walking it alone.
Because no one else can remember your soul for you.
No one else can walk this passage on your behalf.
But I promise you, you are not alone in your loneliness.
Others are walking too. Quietly. Invisibly. Sacredly.
Just like you.
Their footsteps echo through the same dark woods. And though you may not see them yet, you will.
And when you do, it won’t be in desperation.
It will be in recognition.
So, keep going.
Keep listening.
Keep letting go of who you thought you were.
Because you’re not becoming something new.
You’re remembering what you’ve always been.
And that? That is holy.
That is enough.
That is everything.
