on soul searcing
I recently fell down the rabbit hole of this thing people call “soul families.” Personally? I call mine the cluster, because nothing about this experience has ever felt neat, tidy, or Facebook-appropriate.
Apparently, I’ve already met a few of them, some in person, some very much in the “how do I know you without knowing you?” category.
Now, small detail from my childhood: I used to desperately wish I could morph into other people. Not in a creepy sci-fi villain way, more in a deeply curious, emotionally nosy way. I wanted to see what they see, feel what they feel, live inside their nervous system for five minutes and then politely return to my own body like, “Thank you for your service.”
I was deeply offended when I realized that was not, in fact, a standard human feature. Fast-forward twenty years… and well. Let’s just say the emotional Wi-Fi got stronger.
Because when you’re strongly bonded to certain people, somethings happen: you don’t just understand them: you feel them, you experience what they experience. See their memories. Communicate in dreams. And honestly? Sometimes it’s fascinating. It can feel like you’re living multiple lives. Like your human experience upgraded from standard definition to… mildly psychic Dolby Atmos.
But – and this is where the spiritual fine print kicks in – it also comes with side effects. Because the stronger the bond, the stronger the bleed-through.
Case in point: yesterday afternoon I suddenly felt like I was on a sunny balcony, post-work, mentally reaching for a very specific herbal lifestyle choice… while I was, in reality, very much still at my desk, very much sober, and very much wanting to teleport to the city where that said balcony is.
And I remember thinking, “Huh. After this intense week, it’s the day for a joint.” Except… that wasn’t my thought.
And right after that moment? I felt cloudy. The disconnection. Someone went offline. and I lost the connection with myself. Which was, unacceptable, given the fact that yesterday was in fact not the type of day I wanted to disconnect, I wanted to dive in deeper.
With that cloudy experience, I dove in deeper mentally instead.
Which brings us to the spiritual lesson I tried to spiritually bypass for years: Boundaries. And the even more uncomfortable follow-up question:
Who am I actually when nobody else’s signal is bleeding into mine?
I did the work. I got to know who I am in this body, this mind. The real, unsexy, nobody-applauds-you work.
I know what I like, what I want. I learned my triggers. I regulated my nervous system. I faced the patterns. I practiced patience (against my will). I met humility (also against my will). I surrendered (dramatically, but still).
Textbook healing… just executed in my own slightly feral, off-manual way. And somewhere in that process, something beautiful started happening. I began catching clearer glimpses of my own soul. Not the poetic idea of it, the felt sense of it.
My soul is flexible. It moves like water, with grace. It is rain, it is wind. It’s patient, it’s wise, it’s strong. It’s a healer. A seer. Warm, nurturing, joyful. An observer. Self-sufficient. Composed, yet deeply feeling. Fertile, creative, expressive. Rooted, yet airy. A mirror. A choice. A home.
Also, and this feels important, it absolutely has the energy of someone who keeps sentimental objects in every corner to be reminded. Very nostalgic.
The more I connect to her, the more my very human, occasionally chaotic self starts embodying those qualities. Not perfectly. Not permanently. But more consistently than before. And honestly? That’s the journey.
Because my human lessons have been… extensive. Character-building. Occasionally humbling in ways I did not order. Learning to actually listen to my soul has been one of the biggest ones.
Turns out she wasn’t subtle all these years: she was basically standing inside my ribcage with a megaphone going, “HELLO? I LIVE HERE?”
And every time I truly let her lead, really let her breathe through me, it feels the same: Like fresh air rushing into a room I didn’t realize was stuffy. Instant calm. Instant clarity. Instant… oh. There you are.
And here’s something I’ve been noticing lately: the more I remember what my soul remembers (which, for the record, comes with its own very inconvenient emotional package called soul recognition), the harder it becomes to ignore certain places, certain people, certain timelines… even when life very clearly says, “Not yet, sweetheart. Back away slowly.”
Because once your system recognizes something on that level, logic can try its best, but the body knows. The nervous system knows. And your soul? Oh, she definitely knows.
What I’m learning is that being deeply connected to my soul doesn’t mean impulsively running toward every pull. Sometimes it means the exact opposite. Sometimes it means being whole enough to wait.
There is one particular city where I feel this connection at full volume, like my inner signal goes from three bars to full 5G. The signal is the strongest there. When I’m there, it’s easier to let my soul take the wheel. Easier to embody it. Easier to practice being the version of me I know I’m becoming. I build the muscle there, and when it’s time to integrate that version of me in different post codes, my intuition does not deliver the travel dates like it does when I am supposed to be there. Instead it tells me not to go, until further notice.
And then, when I’m elsewhere, the real work begins: integration. Holding that same frequency without the environmental assist. Becoming steady enough that the connection travels with me, not just something I borrow from a location.
So the real question now isn’t whether the connection exists. It’s: How do we stay connected to ourselves, daily, in a world that constantly pulls our attention outward?
My current working theory? Start the morning by checking in with your own signal first. Follow what feels true in the body, not just what sounds logical in the mind. Create space where your nervous system can actually hear you think. Free your mind. Not so easy, remember Neo trying to make the jump the first time? Yes, exactly.
You don’t free your mind by telling it to free itself. You start by letting go. With acceptance. With releasing old versions of you. By letting yourself go. Ecstatic dance is a great way for that. Free flow yoga and stretching, swimming, meditation…
Simple. Not easy. Very different things.
And even if I still get the odd dream downloads about his past lives, purpose, or soul… In waking life? I’m busy getting to know mine.
Good Feelings Club 