Letting Go of the Path to Find the Flow

I was doing a meditative exercise and, at a certain point, I saw myself carrying a weight on my left side. It was heavy, very present, and I couldn’t let it go.

I then decided to do a systemic exercise: a triangulation between myself, that weight, and the healing force (one of the three forces that Bert Hellinger explains). And, in that process, I realized that the weight was connected to energetic imprints of unborn children in my system. I began releasing, aligning myself with that healing force, and I truly felt that something was being let go.

Then I returned to the initial exercise.

And I saw myself there again, still with the weight, but now with the possibility of choice.

I saw a huge chain attached to my left shoulder. And, this time, I chose to let it go.

But, in the moment I let it go, something unexpected happens: I get stuck to the ground.

I really wanted to move forward, but it was as if my feet were glued to the ground.

And then I realized: I was making a huge effort to go in a direction that I believed was “forward.”

But the ground was also moving.

It was as if I were on a treadmill moving in the opposite direction. And I, without realizing it, was making a gigantic effort to “move forward” with the feeling that I wasn’t leaving the same place.

I decide to stop resisting.

To let go.

To turn direction.

And, in that moment, I realize that “forward” was actually the other side.

I begin to move in that direction, not with effort but with fluidity. And, meanwhile, the “treadmill” itself turns around and starts moving in the direction I initially wanted.

But now there is no effort.

I don’t need to force the movement.

There is a clear sense of flow, of going with life instead of against it.

And this brought me a very strong understanding: going with the flow is not always going in the direction I think.

Sometimes it feels like a detour, almost like taking a step back, but it isn’t.

It is entering the flow.

And that flow can take me through paths I cannot yet see, only to later bring me exactly to the place where I felt I wanted to go.

That is why flow is the opposite of control.

But, in that moment, it also brought anguish.

A feeling of “why am I not able to go where I want?”, “what is happening?”, “is it me?”

There was doubt and a questioning of my own ability to feel (because I genuinely felt that the path was in that direction).

And, even so, I had to let go.

Let go of the direction, let go of control, let go of the “how.”

And allow myself to go to the other side.

And it was there that the flow of life itself brought me back, back to the direction I had already felt, but in an aligned way, without effort.

And this brought me another clarity: I may even feel where I want to go.

But the “how” does not belong to me.

Not the timing, not the exact path, not the speed.

That belongs to life.

That belongs to the universe.

If I try to define all of that, I enter resistance.

If I enter the flow, I may not immediately understand the path, but it reveals itself.

And, often, it brings things I could never have imagined.

All of this began with something very simple.

The invitation of an exercise that was “just” to stay with a present feeling.

And I woke up with a feeling of longing.

But it was not a concrete longing.

It was a longing for something I did not live.

I couldn’t name it. Nor approach it. Nor even clearly imagine it.

It was not like those situations where we think “what if life had been different…”.

It was more abstract than that.

It was just a feeling.

A longing… for something that never happened.

And it was from that place, without a name, without a form, that all of this opened and another layer fell away.