13/05/2026
We’ve been told to love our bodies like it’s a practice we just haven’t committed to hard enough: stand in the mirror, say an affirmation, smile until you mean it…and still something in us knows it’s not reaching the part that actually needs it.
We’re not starving for more self-esteem, we’re aching for something older than that, something that doesn’t need to be earned or practiced or performed in front of a mirror at 7am, something that was never actually missing, only buried under years of being told to look for it somewhere else.
The Obsession With Fixing...
There’s a point where the obsession with fixing starts to feel so “off”…because you’re too tired to keep hating yourself and so done with the old ways which creates a way of cracking you open to something you wouldn’t have let in otherwise.
The body breathes for you, holds your grief, joy, rage, and she keeps going long after you’ve stopped being kind to her. We’re in there comparing, shrinking, apologising for her like she’s the problem when she was never the problem…forgetting her was.
We don’t want to love ourselves more, we want to come home to ourselves, to live inside this skin even when it’s bloated and tired and completely unfiltered, to tend to the body like a place we actually want to inhabit rather than a project we’re still trying to finish. These are not the same thing, and the difference matters more than most of us have been willing to sit with.
The self-love conversation has been happening for decades and it’s real and necessary, but somewhere along the way it got flattened into a set of instructions: journal more, move your body, say kind things to yourself in the mirror. The instructions aren’t wrong exactly, they’re just operating at the surface of something that lives much deeper. You can follow every one of them and still feel the hunger, still feel like something essential is just slightly out of reach.
That gap between practice and the felt experience of actually landing back in yourself is what I keep coming back to, and I think the world we’re living in right now is making it impossible to ignore any longer.
The more we outsource, the louder she gets...
We filter our faces, augment the shape, numb the feeling and outsource the presence, and the body doesn’t go quiet when we do this.
The further we drift from what’s real, the more acute the ache becomes. The actual thing, breath, weight, sensation, presence, the body as she actually is rather than as she’s been shaped to perform for other people or for our own relentless internal critic, the hunger so many of us feel right now isn’t a personal failing. It’s the body doing her job, pointing us back toward what actually nourishes, and the gap between what we’re being sold and what we actually need is becoming too wide to paper over with another wellness routine.
Energy is speeding up...
From my own experiences in working with energy, I know this to be true: the energy on this planet is accelerating. What used to take years to move through now moves in months, what used to take months moves in weeks. The quantum field is becoming more potent, responsive and immediate in the way it reflects back whatever we’re bringing to it…as my coach likes to say “either lessons or blessings“.
This acceleration is an invitation, not to speed up with it in the frantic grinding way we’ve been conditioned to move, but to get so rooted, so genuinely present in the body, so honest about what’s real and what’s performance, that the speed becomes something you move with rather than something that moves you.
The acceleration amplifies without discriminating between what’s grounded and what’s false. It turns up the volume on whatever you’re feeding it: fake gets faker faster, disconnection deepens quicker, our hunger becomes more acute and harder to numb, and the return, when you finally stop and let yourself actually land in the body, lands faster and deeper too.
We are being invited to go higher, not into some disembodied performance of ascension but into a more real and honest and fully inhabited version of being human. The body is not the thing we transcend on the way to something higher, she is the vehicle through which the higher moves.
The old ways are becoming unbearable at a cellular level, like a frequency the body simply refuses to hold. The grind, performing, perfecting and endless earning of our own worthiness, these aren’t just ineffective anymore. They’re incompatible with where the energy is going, and the body knows it before the mind does…she always does.
The reckoning with the fake...
We are in the middle of a collective reckoning with the artificial, and it’s showing up most acutely in our relationship with our own bodies. The more we distance ourselves from what’s real, the more the body herself refuses to be forgotten. She’s done being background noise to the performance.
This isn’t about being anti-technology or anti AI or pretending there’s some purer natural state we’ve fallen from. It’s about noticing what the acceleration is revealing: the further we drift from actual presence in this skin, the more acute the seeking becomes.
The filler, filter, augmentation are symptoms of something deeper than vanity. They’re symptoms of a world that taught us the body was something to be managed, improved, made acceptable before she could be loved. And that teaching is old and deep and it has shaped almost every woman I’ve ever known, including me.
But something is shifting deeply, women are exhausted and misunderstood, men unsure of their place, so many of us trying to perfect ourselves into being lovable, worthy, enough, and underneath all of that efforting, something deeper is stirring in the field. The pull to honour the body not for how she looks but for everything she holds as a creational being.
Finding her...
I want to be clear about something: I haven’t solved this. I still catch myself mid-critique, still have days where I scroll past my own reflection without really looking, still feel the pull toward fixing before I can feel the pull toward coming home. The difference now isn’t that the old voice went quiet. It’s that I know the terrain well enough to find my way back. And I’ve come to think that the finding is the whole thing, not the arriving.
The shift that changes everything isn’t a practice or a protocol, it’s a recognition: the moment you stop trying to earn your way back to something holy and start feeling that the holy never actually left. That she’s in the breath you’re taking right now, in the body you’ve spent years trying to fix, in the hunger itself if you let it point somewhere other than outward.
You don’t find her by becoming better, you find her by finally stopping long enough to feel that she never left.
“I found God in myself and I loved Her, and I loved Her, and I loved Her…fiercely.” – Ntozake Shange
That line has lived in me since I first read it, the repetition of I loved her, I loved her and I loved her does something a single statement never could, like she’s not describing love but insisting on it, refusing to let the old programming have the last word. She had to say it three times because once wasn’t enough to override a lifetime of being taught to look for the divine anywhere but inside herself.
That’s the work: not the mirror, journal or morning routine…but the fierce, stubborn, repeated turning back toward yourself as sacred ground, because she was always there, waiting to be remembered.
The return isn’t coming…it’s already here, in the ache of the seeking itself, a hunger that won’t be satisfied by anything less than the real thing.
Time to Come home.
