120 Energy Teaches Faster Than Words

Some lessons arrive in your body long before language ever gets a chance to organize them into tidy sentences. Before you have theories, credentials, opinions, or defenses, something inside you already knows. These messages often arrive quietly, honestly, sometimes a little unstable, sometimes tender — not yet shaped into respectable explanations, but undeniably real. They arrive as experience first. Interpretation always comes later.

When I was five years old, my father invited me into our long living room — the kind of room that feels like a football field when you’re small and barefoot on the carpet. He stood at one end. I stood at the other. He held his palms facing each other, as if holding an invisible beach ball, and asked me to do the same. Then he invited me to walk slowly toward him, eyes gently down, paying attention to anything I might feel in my body or hands.

At first, nothing happened. I briefly wondered what was for dinner. And then, about ten feet away, warmth appeared between my palms — not imagined warmth, not polite warmth — but real heat, gentle tingling, aliveness introducing itself without asking permission. As I moved closer, the sensation intensified, like holding a small invisible sun. My nervous system smiled before my mind could catch up. My father smiled too — that quiet knowing smile adults get when they witness a child discovering something ancient.

He told me I was feeling chi. Some traditions call it prana. And just like that, my spiritual education began — not in a classroom or a sermon or a book — but in my own hands. No belief was required. My body already knew.

Years later, I encountered a teaching from Anthony de Mello that made me laugh in recognition. He wrote that transformation does not come from something added, but from something dropped. Not accumulated. Not mastered. Released. That childhood moment made perfect sense then. At five, I hadn’t learned much yet — which turned out to be a tremendous advantage. No filters. No skepticism. No performance strategies. Just direct knowing.

We spend much of our adult lives trying to gain things — knowledge, clarity, control, certainty, spiritual accomplishments, gold stars for being a good human. The mind loves projects and checklists. Society loves ladders and résumés. But the deeper transformations of life rarely arrive through accumulation. They arrive through subtraction. The more you soften, the more space you have to notice what’s already true.

Energy doesn’t demand belief. It responds to openness. Intuition doesn’t require effort. It awakens when the nervous system settles, and the heart becomes receptive. Wisdom doesn’t shout instructions across the room. It waits patiently for you to slow down enough to listen.

You already know this. You’ve walked into rooms and felt emotional atmospheres before anyone spoke. You’ve sensed sincerity, distress, peace, warmth — without logical explanation. You didn’t learn this language. You remembered it. Your body recognizes an ancient form of intelligence that never needed words in the first place.

One of the quiet paradoxes of spiritual growth is this: the more gently we loosen our grip on certainty and control, the more reality reveals itself. When we stop trying to manufacture meaning, meaning quietly appears on its own — richer, deeper, and far more trustworthy than anything the mind could engineer.

That five-year-old walking toward invisible warmth had no agenda. Only curiosity. And perhaps that’s the posture intuition loves most.

A Simple Embodied Practice

Sometime today or this week, pause for a moment. Gently bring your hands up in front of you, palms facing each other a few inches apart. Let your shoulders soften. Let your breath slow. Unclench your jaw. You’re not trying to accomplish anything. You’re simply noticing.

Feel whatever arises — warmth, tingling, spaciousness, or even nothing at all. Let that be enough. If part of your body asks for your hands to rest there, follow that gentle invitation. Allow energy to move without performance or expectation. Let your nervous system speak before your mind interrupts.

Real miracles aren’t always fireworks. Often, they’re the quiet remembering of how to listen again.

With love,
Laura 🪷

“Trust yourself ~ miracles follow.”