Let’s start with the body.
Think of it as a container—an extraordinary one. It holds not only our physical form, but information from every generation before us, including those that came out of the waters long ago. Inside this container is what I think of as a sophisticated computer: the brain, with its software programs known as the nervous system. We even have a remarkable vacuum-and-repair system—our circulation—constantly cleaning, nourishing, restoring.
It’s astonishing when you really think about it.
But is that who we are?
What if that’s who we are consciously—and yet there’s much more? What if there’s a light within us, existing in a kind of non-space, less than milliseconds away from our conscious mind?
Years ago, I decided to give myself grace—for mistakes, missteps, and misunderstandings—and to love every part of me. That decision quietly changed everything. It led me to ask a deeper question:
What is pain?
Is pain something fixed and immovable? Something we must endure? Or is it something we can influence—perhaps even change?
Most of us experience pain at some point in life, and sometimes for long stretches. I know this personally. I’ve lived with physical nerve-damage pain. And over time, I realized something important: my conscious self and my soul needed to learn how to get along—like best friends.
I don’t experience them as one core thing. I see my soul as part of the infinite light of the universe, connected to the greater mystery of life itself. My conscious mind, on the other hand, wants things, worries, reacts, and occasionally behaves like a very well-meaning but immature child.
When the soul-led part of me takes over, something remarkable happens: I feel better—even when pain is present.
Gradually, I began to interpret the word pain differently. To me, it now means:
Pay
Attention
Intuition
Knows
When we’re afraid, desperate, or hurting, the conscious mind does what it knows best—it protects. Muscles tighten. Breath shortens. Circulation narrows. That response creates more issues.
So I began to wonder: what if pain isn’t the enemy? What if it’s a messenger?
And what if learning to listen—rather than resist—is the first step?
As it turns out, listening opens the door, but play is often what teaches us how to walk through it.
In the infinite light of love,
Nancy