There’s something I’ve come to trust in this path, even though it confused me for a long time.
I’ve had many experiences of wholeness. Moments where everything felt complete and undivided. A knowing that all is well and always has been. Not as an idea, but as something direct and undeniable.
And still, although that presence is always in the background, I’ll find myself getting pulled into old patterns. Fears arise. Desires take hold. Insecurities speak in familiar ways. Worry returns, sometimes in the same shapes it always has.
For a while, this felt like something had gone wrong. I wondered if I’d lost what I’d seen and known so intimately, or if I’d imagined it in the first place. It seemed like these two things shouldn’t coexist. If the truth of wholeness is real, why do these conditioned reactions still have so much energy?
Over time, something softer and more honest has revealed itself.
The recognition of wholeness doesn’t erase conditioning overnight. The body, the mind, the nervous system all carry patterns that were formed over years. These patterns don’t disappear just because something true has been seen. They continue to arise, often in automatic ways, like echoes of the past still moving through the present.
What changes isn’t necessarily the appearance of these patterns, but the relationship to them.
There’s now a knowing present, even when I’m caught. It may not always be in the foreground, but it’s here. A kind of gentle awareness that sees what’s happening without fully becoming it.
So fear can arise, but it’s not as convincing as it once was. Insecurity can speak, but something in me recognizes the voice. Desire can pull, but it’s seen as a movement of energy and thought rather than an automatic response or a command that must be followed.
This doesn’t mean I’m above these experiences. I’m fully human. I still get lost at times. I still react in ways that feel unhelpful and frustrating. But even in those moments, there’s the knowing of something deeper that remains ever present and untouched.
It’s helped me to stop thinking of this as being caught again, and to start seeing it as something unwinding.
Conditioning has momentum. It was practiced, reinforced, and lived for a long time. It makes sense that it continues to move, even after something deeper has been recognized. In a way, these patterns are being revealed so they can be seen more clearly and held in a different light.
There’s also a kind of humility that comes with this.
One of my favorite quotes is, “Nothing human is alien to me.”
It comes from Terence, a Roman playwright from the 2nd century BCE.
When we accept those words, the idea of arriving somewhere separate from our humanity can fall away. Instead, there’s an ongoing invitation to meet life as it is.
Sometimes life brings clarity and peace. Sometimes it brings contraction and confusion. Both are part of the same field of experience.
Nothing needs to be pushed out in order for wholeness to be true.
In fact, I’ve found that the more I try to get rid of these human movements, the more tension there is. And the more I allow them, the more naturally they express themselves and pass. Not because I’m doing something special, but because they’re no longer held so tightly.
There’s a noticing that can happen, even in the middle of being pulled into something. It’s a recognition that there’s space for everything and a reminder that what we see isn’t limited to what we’re feeling in the moment.
This isn’t about perfection. It isn’t about never getting caught again. It isn’t about living in a constant state of clarity.
It’s a deepening honesty and a growing kindness toward all parts of experience.
If you find yourself in this place, where truth has been seen and yet old patterns still arise, you’re not doing anything wrong.
This is part of the unfolding.
Something real has been recognized. And life, in its own time, is learning how to live from that recognition, slowly, gently, and in a way that includes everything.
Even the parts that still feel unfinished.