Learning to Trust What You Already Know

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we sit in the darkness with others.” — Pema Chödrön

I’ve been working on being more attentive and trusting. Especially to my intuition.

Trusting my intuition means remembering there’s more than just this moment, more than this struggle or pain point, more than this story I’m telling myself.

This lesson has been coming through in my relationship. My marriage has been teaching me how to expand—how my husband mirrors back exactly what I need to see, how letting go of needing to be “right” opens everything up. And how even when my pain body shows up, there’s room for compassion always.

The Noise in Our Heads

One of the latest books I picked up was The Power of Now. Tolle reminded me that all this mental noise—the replaying of old stories, the planning for some future where I’ll finally have it together, the things that won’t happen but still occupy my thoughts: it’s all just noise.

Because here’s the thing: I’m not my thoughts. Those anxious spirals, the self-doubt, the endless problem-solving—that’s just my mind doing its thing. I don’t have to engage with every thought that shows up.

And unless there’s an actual bear chasing me? I don’t actually have problems, just a busy mind creating them.

And this allows for more compassion. More care and kindness. Because when you show up like that, you can allow your partner to show up that way too. Or anyone close to you. And that’s where you become catalysts for each other: healing these shadowy parts together.

Fear Disguised as Truth

There’s a quiet thread that connects the pain body, intuition, and presence.

When old pain lives inside us—what some call the shadow self or the pain body—it doesn’t just sit there. It reacts. It defends. It tells stories that sound like truth but are really fear in disguise. That voice says things like “don’t trust,” “don’t let go,” or “don’t get hurt again.”

And because those wounds are loud, it’s easy to mistake them for intuition. But intuition doesn’t rush, panic, or overexplain. It speaks softly, without emotional charge. It’s the calm beneath the noise.

The only thing that’s real is being right here, right now. And the moments I stop chasing these discomforts—the future and past—and just be? Just let what is, be? Everything softens.

That’s why being present matters so much. Presence quiets the storm long enough for us to tell the difference between fear and knowing. When we breathe into what’s here—without judgment—the pain body softens, the shadow feels seen, and intuition finally has room to speak.

It’s not about fixing or forcing anything. It’s about being here—long enough, honest enough—to hear what’s true.

Remembering, Not Figuring Out

Recently, I’ve been working with clients and diving deeper into past lives and how they shape what we carry now. It’s wild to realize that some of the blocks, patterns, or callings we feel might have roots way beyond this lifetime. That exploration has shifted something for me; it’s made my intuition and theirs feel less like guessing and more like remembering.

Like we’re not figuring it out. We’re uncovering what we already know. And when this work is done, we understand the pain body. And then when it shows up, either in our own quiet moments or in our relationships, we can handle it with care.

Coming Home to Yourself

And so I keep coming back to this: be present, be compassionate, follow the hurt until—maybe it’s not healed, but you understand it—and then you can truly trust your intuition that’s alive and growing, and the intimate knowing that we’re never really alone in this.

“The soul speaks in whispers and sighs, not in sentences. To hear it, we must unclench our hearts and grow comfortable with silence.” — Mirabai Starr, Mystic & Translator of Teresa of Ávila

The soul speaks in whispers. To hear it, we must unclench our hearts and grow comfortable with silence.

Xx- shana

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