When the body begins to whisper, before it learns to scream
December 27, 2024. I write in my journal:
“I woke up late because I couldn’t sleep… I didn’t do my supportive practices either… And yet, I’m not critical of myself.”
At that moment, I didn’t yet know that this was not just another morning.
This was the beginning.
Quiet.
Almost unnoticeable.
A beginning that has its own rhythm —
and no urgency.
When what used to work no longer supports
At first, it was easy to explain.
The northern winter.
Fatigue.
A deep training that “requires recovery.”
All of these stories were believable.
Logical enough not to look deeper.
And yet, there was one truth I couldn’t even think of:
my body was changing.
Not symbolically.
Not emotionally.
But physiologically.
Perimenopause.
A word that was not a lived experience for me.
A word that had no meaning in my body — yet.
And still… my body was already living it.
When awareness doesn’t reach the body
This is where I got stuck.
The awareness is there.
The knowledge is there.
The practices are there.
But the body… doesn’t follow.
And when the body doesn’t follow, a gap begins to form.
I felt that something was wrong.
But I didn’t have a name for it.
And when there is no name,
confusion appears.
And next to confusion, a critic often arrives.
Quiet at first.
Then louder.
“But you know…”
“Why aren’t you doing…”
And so a loop forms, one that is hard to step out of.
The body gets tired.
The mind pushes.
The inner tension grows.
When responsibility slips away
At some point, I noticed something uncomfortable.
How easy it is to place responsibility… somewhere else.
The collective field.
Energetic shifts.
The “waves” of life.
All of this may be true.
But it can also be a way to disconnect.
From the body.
From responsibility.
From ourselves.
Because the body is not abstract.
It doesn’t live in a “collective field.”
It lives here.
Now.
In me.
And it doesn’t need explanations.
It needs to be listened to.
When speed takes away the ability to feel
I was used to moving fast.
Creating.
Holding.
Taking responsibility.
It felt like a highway.
And on a highway, there is no space to feel.
The body becomes something that is dragged along.
It is there.
But it is not with me.
And at some point… it simply can’t keep up anymore.
Camino — the first shift
On the Camino, a clear realization came:
I need to step away.
Not to escape.
But to step aside.
From everything that had become “default.”
Habits.
Rhythms.
Environment.
And that’s how Guatemala entered my life.
A place completely unknown to me.
A language I didn’t understand.
A culture that didn’t try to please me.
A rhythm that didn’t rush.
And precisely because of that…
it stopped me.
A meeting that cannot be rushed
In Guatemala, something began to restore.
Not through effort.
But through allowing.
Sleep returned.
Clarity returned.
The body returned.
And with that, something else came back — something I hadn’t felt for a long time:
inspiration.
Not as an idea.
But as a state.
What grows slowly, stays
February 7, 2025. I write in my journal:
“My retreats are based on — feeling of belonging — to be part of — vulnerability — sharings — presence — awareness.”
I didn’t do anything with that sentence.
It simply stayed there.
Like a seed placed into the soil…
without expectation.
And exactly a year later, in Guatemala,
a retreat began to emerge from me:
“The Alchemy of Intimacy — Where safe connection begins within.”
Not a single part of me remembered
that these words had already lived in me a year before.
Everything has its own rhythm
This has been one of my deepest learnings lately.
Or perhaps a better word is: embodiment.
Not to rush.
Not to push.
Not to demand.
But to notice.
That every process has its own timing.
Every realization its own maturity.
Every creation its own rhythm.
And when I try to control that rhythm…
I lose connection.
But when I allow…
things begin to emerge.
Creation does not come from outside
In February 2025, in Bali, I write:
“In order for us as humans to experience something new, we must create it ourselves.”
It was a very clear realization.
Waiting for life or “energies” to create something…
is often just a way to avoid responsibility.
To not take a step.
To not choose.
But creation…
is always an invitation.
And that invitation is not meant for someone else.
Maybe this speaks to you too
Maybe you are in a place where something no longer works.
Not completely.
But enough to create restlessness.
Maybe you feel that you know…
but cannot apply it.
Maybe your body has already begun to whisper.
Before it learns to scream.
And maybe the question is not
what more you need to add.
But…
are you willing to slow down enough
to hear…
what is already asking to change within you.
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