"Love n Light" Falls Short

The quiet work of becoming whole in the in-between realm of feeling small

I found myself in a space I couldn’t define: I was not who I was, and yet I was not what was next. I was not even what my purpose was asking of me. Just… in between. And if you’ve ever been there, you know that it’s not really a poetic place. It doesn’t feel like expansion. It often feels like uncertainty, fatigue, loss. An absence of what once felt known and certain.

During that time, I noticed something: this language of “love and light” was everywhere. Well-intended. Warm. Uplifting.

But something about the saturation of the phrase helped me see I was no longer fully resonated with it. Not because it was “wrong”, but because it felt insufficient.

Light is not the destination

What I began to understand through my own experience, and through the deeper energetic work I was moving through is that light, on its own, is not inherently healing.

Light is a carrier. It illuminates. It reveals. It exposes. But without a genuine love, it can remain… distant. Externalized. Something we reach for rather than something we embody.

True healing happens when light and love move together. And light reveals what has been hidden. Love allows it to be met, felt, and integrated. Without that union, we can unknowingly use “light” as a way to avoid what still lives within us.

The truth about what we carry

What we often call “wounding” is not limited to a trauma or memory we endured. It is actually an energy that has not yet been metabolized.

It is trapped light.

Moments where something in us tightened, held, or shut down because it wasn’t safe to feel fully at the time. These unprocessed experiences don’t disappear. They remain in the body, in the field, quietly shaping how we think, respond, and relate. Anger. Grief. Fear. Even numbness.

None of these are problems. They are signals existing as forms of energy asking to move, to be seen, to be brought back into coherence. But here’s where it becomes delicate.

The spiritual bypass we don’t realize we’re doing

Now, at certain stages of our growth, it can feel safer to seek the light externally. To focus on expansion and alignment. Intending for “higher states”. To embody the appearance of wholeness. Only in hindsight can I own this in myself because there was a very long time when I couldn’t see it myself. It’s the forest and the trees thing…

But if there are parts of us we are simply unwilling – or just not yet ready - to feel, then that light becomes further fragmented and we begin to live in a subtle split:

• One part reaching upward

• Another part quietly subconsciously holding unresolved energy below

• Or yet another that thinks it is doing the work, but in truth is gaslighting itself

And so we compensate through relationships, through roles through seeking something outside of us that temporarily fills what feels missing inside.

It can even look like healing. Spiritual circles, transformation retreats, workshops led by the experts, and the like. All of which may be a piece of the puzzle or a steppingstone. But in and if themselves – it does not result in integration.

But, the in-between is where clarity is found

That undefined space I found myself in - the one where nothing was clear - was not a pause in my purpose. It was the work. It was where everything that had been carried, but not fully felt, began to surface. Not all at once (even though there were times where it surely felt like it).

It happens sometimes dramatically, sometimes not. But steadily, for sure. So many moments of grief that didn’t have a clear story. An undercurrent of fatigue that rest alone didn’t resolve. An even subtler undercurrent of something begging to be acknowledged, but evasive.

It was not instant clarity that brought me through it, but innately, I felt that I didn’t need more light delivered to me. It was time to turn toward what the light was revealing.

Where in me is crying out for more love?

The real question isn’t: How do I find more light?

The real questions are:

Where is love missing within me?

Where am I still holding something at a distance?
Where does it feel uncomfortable to stay present?
Where am I trying to move past something that is asking to be felt?

What we resist is the thing that is most crying out for our attention. And this is where coherence begins to return.

Not by forcing healing and not by figuring out a way to “fix” it.

But by allowing energy to move - through awareness, through presence, through a willingness to stay.

Becoming whole again

What I’ve come to understand - both in my own process and in the work I now hold with others - is that wholeness isn’t something we achieve. And news-flash: as long as we live in these bodies, we won’t achieve complete wholeness because the truth of who we really are is beyond anything we can fathom. The full spectrum of Light that comprises our very soul and spirit is far too massive to be wholly contained in a vessel. We are to allow this energy to flow through us, freely, without harnessing it, judging it, or rationing it. The feeling of wholeness is something we allow, not something we procure.

Surrender to the inner guidance

When light illuminates, and love meets what is revealed, everything begins to soften. The body unwinds. The nervous system settles. The fragmentation begins to reorganize itself. And, yes, this can feel like chaos for a time. But it will happen in its perfection if we let it be.

Not because we made it happen. But because we stopped interrupting the process.

Trusting the timing of it all

I wish I could say that I understood it at this depth when I was in it, but that would not be true. But in hindsight, that “in-between” phase I was resisting now feels more honorable. Sacred even. It stripped away the need to know. It removed the pressure to arrive somewhere. It asked me to trust something far more subtle:

Timing. Rhythm. The intelligence of the body and the field.

Healing doesn’t happen on demand and clarity doesn’t arrive through force. There is a natural sequencing - just like in nature - where things crack open, unfold, surface, and resolve in their own due time. And our role is not to rush it. But to stay present enough to meet it. Yes, over and over and over again.

So yes - love and light. But not as something we say.

As something we live.

Light that reveals.
Love that stays.

And in that union, something real begins to return.