Most of us move through life in a kind of sleep. We wake up in the morning, go through our routines, chase after things we think we need, react to the world around us, and then go back to sleep—only to repeat the cycle again. But are we really awake? Do we really see who we are?
The truth is, most human beings live in a state of unconsciousness, a deep slumber of the soul. We are lost in our conditioned minds, in our stories, in our fears and desires. Some of us, though, have begun to wake up. And what does waking up mean? It means seeing beyond the illusions, beyond the surface of things, beyond the identity we’ve been told we are. It means remembering.
But awakening is not an easy process. It is not soft, nor is it gentle. It shakes us. It pulls apart the structures we’ve built to keep us comfortable. And why? Because comfort doesn’t push us to change. When we are at ease, we settle in. We remain as we are. Growth, transformation—these require movement, and movement often comes from discomfort.
For most of us, suffering is the great teacher. It is the alarm clock that jolts us out of our sleep. When everything is going well, when we are safe in our little cocoons, there is no urgency to look deeper. But when suffering arrives—when loss comes, when betrayal cuts us, when illness knocks at our door—suddenly, we begin to ask the deeper questions. Suddenly, we begin to seek.
In many ways, we are like the butterfly inside the cocoon. It seems to struggle as it pushes against the shell, as it fights to break free. But that struggle is essential. If we were to help it, to cut open the cocoon too soon, the butterfly would not survive. It would not have the strength to fly. The very thing that seems painful is, in fact, the thing that prepares it for life.
And so it is with us. Our struggles build the wings we need to soar. They strip away the illusions, the false identities, the smallness we have believed in for so long. They force us to expand, to grow beyond who we thought we were.
Some of us wake up with small struggles. A moment of sadness, a quiet realization, a longing for something more. But for many, awakening requires something deeper—something that shakes the very foundation of our being. The dark night of the soul. The place where everything crumbles. Where we feel abandoned, lost, broken beyond repair. It is in that darkness, in that unbearable pain, that the greatest openings happen.
And so, what at first seems like a curse—like suffering, like loss—is actually grace in disguise. It is the doorway to something greater. It is the hand of the divine, not pushing us down, but pulling us up, urging us to remember.
We are in the midst of a great awakening, not just as individuals, but as a collective. Some of us are taking the first steps. Others have walked the path before and now extend their hands to help those just beginning. This is how it has always been. And as each of us wakes up, we awaken the world.
So why do difficult things happen to us? Because we are being called. Because we are being invited to remember. Because we are being prepared for something far greater than the small lives we have settled for.
Pain is not the enemy. Struggle is not the enemy. They are the hands that shape us, that refine us, that make us ready.
And one day, we will look back and see that every hardship, every heartbreak, every moment we thought we could not survive—was actually grace. It was life, waking us up. It was love, calling us home.
Yorumlar