What if enlightenment is not an exit strategy? What if it is simply radical non-abandonment?

Instead of trying to escape the heavy weight of being alive, this shift invites us to turn around and pull everything back into the room. Ecospiritual awakening happens when we become so deeply anchored in Self that every wounded part of us, along with every aching part of the living Earth, feels safe enough to soften and flow back into the stream of presence. It is an unwavering trust that no matter how far we wander or how fragmented the world appears, there is always a way back home to this sacred centre, a presence that may be veiled but can never be lost.

Let’s pause and think about a tree for a moment (perhaps one outside your window). In standard human spirituality, that tree is pleasant scenery, perhaps a convenient metaphor for groundedness (certainly nothing you’d want to reincarnate as, since that would put you far below the supposed superiority of human consciousness, right?). But deep ecology suggests a wider and more radical insight. The boundary between our skin and the bark is a polite fiction. The psychological landscape is the ecological landscape. The tree is not a prop in our awakening story. Our lungs and its leaves are currently sharing the exact same breath in real time.

As Internal Family Systems (IFS) founder Dick Schwartz put it, “our enlightenment is much brighter and more sustained if all of us is involved". What if that word ‘us’ includes the root systems, the riverbeds, the fungi and the atmosphere?

Long before modern spiritual circles separated the sacred from the soil, thinkers were already pointing out the flaw in our human isolation. Baruch Spinoza scandalized his contemporaries by insisting that God and Nature are identical. To Spinoza, a maple tree is not a creation separate from the divine. It is literally God treeing.

Albert Einstein arrived at the same cosmic joke through physics. He noted that “a human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty”.

In early Celtic Christianity, people didn’t build massive cathedrals to find God because they viewed the woods as the primary sanctuary. The early Celtic monastics treated the landscape as the first book of divine revelation. Centuries later, Saint Hildegard of Bingen gave voice to this wild, green spirituality through her concept of viriditas, the holy life-force pulsing through vegetation. In her mid-fifties, Hildegard began experiencing the visions that would eventually form the basis of her Book of Divine Works. Throughout the text, her reflections range from the natural world to profound questions about eternity and the foundations of love. In doing so, she developed a way of understanding the interconnectedness of the natural world that anticipated, by some 700 years, the concept we now know as ‘ecology’.

She wrote “I am life, whole and entire—not struck from stones, not blooming out of twigs, not rooted in a man’s power to beget children. Rather all life has its roots in me… I, the fiery life of divine essence, am aflame beyond the beauty of the meadows, I gleam in the waters, and I burn in the sun, moon, and stars… I awaken everything to life. The air lives by turning green and being in bloom. The waters flow as if they were alive. The sun lives in its light”.

For Hildegard, our spirit and the sap rising through a spring branch are made of the exact same fiery juice.

Art: “Cultivating the Cosmic Tree” by Hildegard

When we stop viewing spiritual growth as a private island of personal tranquility, the world opens up. Ecospiritual enlightenment is the whole living system waking up to itself, together. When our inner exiles are welcomed home, our porousness is restored. We realise that the self is not a lonely brain piloting a body, but the wider living web of Earth thinking, feeling and healing through us.

Charles Eisenstein describes our current cultural predicament as a transition between stories, moving away from the old Story of Separation toward the Story of Interbeing. We have tried for centuries to conquer nature on the outside while trying to conquer our messy human nature on the inside. But the inner and outer are one and what we do to the world, we do to ourselves, because we are not isolated observers sitting on a dead stage. We are the stage. Here, I’m reminded of that story about Ramana Maharshi when a follower asked him “How are we to treat others?” to which he simply replied “There are no others”. And for me, ‘others’ is not limited to the human. It extends beyond the human, into the more-than-human world. The mounting pile of plastic in the Pacific Ocean is that other, the dying coral reef is that other, the wildfires are that other. We are that other, in whatever guise it seems to take in this moment…

Radical non-abandonment means staying present not just to our personal wounds, but to the brokenness of our collective systems, without turning away or numbing out. Our enlightenment allows us to expand large enough to include all this.

Joanna Macy, the late Buddhist scholar, environmental activist and my mentor for several years, once said to me that “the darkest thing that can happen to us is to shut down to our own pain for the world”. We shared email exchanges about our grief for dying forests and polluted rivers, and both came to recognise that this grief is not a psychological defect to be meditated away, but proof of our love. Grief is love with its hands full and nowhere to put them. As I shared with her my ideas about IFS and its notion of Self, we both came to agree that the Self is really the no-self of everything, much as Hildegard came to understand through her notion of viriditas - a cosmic energy pulsing through the entire universe, animating the human soul, the stars and the very substance of God.

In my years of pondering the question of ecospirituality, I’ve come to realise that the most radical thing we can do in the face of despair is to stay present, to our inner parts, to each other and to the living Earth. When we stop exiling the pain, we remember the boundless love that was underneath it all along. The trees outside our windows are not waiting for us to become enlightened in a human-centred way, but rather to finally see that we have been sharing the same spirit all along.

Namaste.

Before I continue, I’d like to say that this article is neither a critique of psychiatry nor an argument against diagnosis. It is a playful exploration of an idea that has surfaced across centuries in the reflections of mystics, philosophers, contemplatives and influential scientists of our time. The idea is that the separate self we ordinarily take ourselves to be is not the whole story. That our most fundamental identity is not as isolated individuals, but as expressions of a deeper unity that appears through countless forms.

Albert Einstein hinted at this possibility when he wrote:

“A human being is a part of the whole, called by us ‘Universe’, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness”.

Erwin Schrödinger, one of the founders of quantum theory, expressed similar insights: “The total number of minds in the universe is one” and “Consciousness is never experienced in the plural, only in the singular”. And, here’s one of my favourite companion reflections from Sri Aurobindo:

“Existence that multiplied itself for sheer delight of being and plunged into numberless trillions of forms so that it might find itself innumerably”.

Another great thinker was Walter Russell who, again, expressed a similar vision in his description of cosmic consciousness. He suggested that humanity’s maturation involves awakening from exclusive identification with sensory experience into what he called the “cosmic Light universe of knowing”. For Russell, the universe was not fundamentally made of matter but of Light:

“There is but one thing in this universe, LIGHT, the still Light of all Knowing. The One Light which is God. God alone lives.”

Elsewhere he described matter as “light crystallized into the complex idea of this universe”. His vision culminates in a striking metaphor:

“And as the rainbow is a light within the Light, inseparable, so is Man’s Self within Me, inseparable; and so is his image My image”.

If Russell, Schrödinger and countless mystics are pointing toward the same truth, then perhaps what we call the human condition is simply consciousness temporarily identifying with one colour of its own infinite spectrum. With that possibility in mind, here’s an imagined diagnosis in the existential edition of the DSM: The Prism Refraction Response.

I hope you found this imaginary DSM entry fun to read. Beneath the humour, however, is a slightly more concrete possibility:

What if much of what we call the human struggle is not evidence that something has gone wrong, but evidence that consciousness has taken on the extraordinary project of experiencing itself through finite form?

(And if your spiritual bypass radar is already lighting up, bear with me. There is more to say. As those familiar with my work will know, I’m an advocate of both/and).

If consciousness truly expresses itself through finite forms, then the sense of separation we experience may not be a mistake. It may be an inevitable consequence of incarnation. To have a human perspective is, by definition, to see through a particular set of eyes, a particular nervous system, a particular history. The price of individuality is partiality.

The mystics have long suggested that the fundamental problem is not suffering itself, but misidentification. We take ourselves to be the contents of consciousness rather than consciousness itself. We mistake the passing weather for the sky. We identify with a single colour and forget the light from which all colours arise.

Seen from this perspective, many of our deepest anxieties begin to make sense. The feeling that something is missing. The persistent urge to become someone else. The belief that fulfilment lies just beyond the next achievement, relationship, healing modality or spiritual breakthrough. These may not be personal defects. They may be distorted expressions of a deeper longing: consciousness seeking to remember its own depth through the very forms that seem to conceal it.

Perhaps this is why so many traditions speak about awakening, not as a process of becoming, but of remembering. The irony is that the separate self spends most of its life trying to achieve what was never actually absent. It seeks wholeness while already occurring within wholeness. It seeks belonging while made entirely of belonging. It seeks home while standing in the very ground from which it arose.

This doesn’t mean bypassing pain, dismissing trauma or pretending that suffering is unreal. Human experience matters. Grief, fear, loss and injustice hurt. The spectrum is real as experience, just as the colours of the rainbow are real, not as separate things but as expressions of something deeper.

Recognising this deeper unity doesn’t absolve us from the work of the world, quite the opposite. If every life is an expression of the same underlying reality, then helping people flourish, alleviating suffering, protecting the vulnerable and challenging injustice become sacred responsibilities. Oneness is not an escape from humanity but an invitation to participate in it more deeply - to care for bodies because consciousness expresses through them, to support healing because suffering matters, and to create conditions in which every life can be as healthy, dignified and beautiful as possible. The spectrum is not something to reject in favour of the light, but how the light becomes visible.

Nor is awakening an escape from ordinary life. Before awakening, we chop wood and carry water; after awakening, we still chop wood and carry water. The difference isn’t what we do, but our sense of who or what is doing it (i.e. the sense of a separate “I” falls away). When consciousness no longer experiences itself as fundamentally broken or separate, the endless project of self-improvement begins to relax. We can still grow, heal, learn and evolve, but these no longer arise from a need to complete ourselves. They arise from curiosity, creativity and love.

The wave doesn’t need to become the ocean, the wave is how the ocean appears. You are not separate from the mystery of consciousness, but one of the ways it comes to know itself through human life.

Namaste.

And yet, when I eventually met every dark corner of my psyche, I didn’t find horror, I saw light and beauty. Not because it was classically pretty - it really wasn’t a Disney picture, I can tell you that. What I saw was indeed dark, gnarly and covered in thick layers of scar tissue. But instead of a site of brutality or ugliness, it felt like a temple. My holy temple.

Having grown up with Abrahamic teachings as a child, I thought the shadow was terrifying and demonic. But as Jung famously said, the shadow is 90% gold. In truth, I’ve come to realize it is 100% gold.

So, today is the Feast Day of Mary Magdalene, a figure who has been perpetually misunderstood, flattened and miscategorized for centuries. When I look at her story now, and when I attune to the burdens so many of us carry in our own bodies, I don’t see a woman possessed by evil. I see a woman who was carrying entirely too much.

In my humble opinion, Mary Magdalene’s seven demons were not moral failings, but the manifestation of profound transgenerational trauma and deep core wounds. She carried the archetypal scarring of the wounded feminine - a grief cup so full of systemic and patriarchal betrayal that it fractured her psyche. In her era, society lacked modern psychological vocabulary. What we now recognize as severe trauma, dissociation, chronic grief and somatized pain was labelled as demons.

Through a trauma informed lens, those seven demons represent seven core wounds:

1. Powerlessness (freeze, lost agency). Collectively shows up as generations of oppression, silencing and colonization.

2. Terror (chronic anxiety, survival mode). Collectively shows up as inherited survival responses, misogyny and systemic violence.

3. Shame (worthlessness, self-condemnation). Collectively shows up as purity culture, religious shame and control of bodies/sexuality.

4. Betrayal (broken trust, abandonment). Collectively shows up as institutional betrayal, abuse of power and betrayal of the feminine.

5. Grief (unprocessed loss, despair). Collectively shows up as ancestral mourning, cultural loss and silenced grief.

6. Rejection (exclusion, not belonging). Collectively shows up as social ostracism and the rejection of the feminine voice/wisdom.

7. Neglect (invisibility, emotional deprivation). Collectively shows up as generations of emotional neglect and suppressed emotional needs.

Through the lens of IFS, Mary Magdalene’s healing symbolizes the restoration of Self-leadership – a compassionate, grounded centre capable of witnessing and unburdening each traumatized part. In this light, the casting out of demons isn’t an exorcism of innate evil, but a sacred release of transgenerational trauma, allowing what was once too heavy to bear to finally be held, witnessed and transformed into wholeness.

If this piece has got you interested in personal and transgenerational wounds, here’s a little snippet from Awaken to Love on the subject:

The burdens: seven veils

As touched on above, in a healthy system, there exists a multiplicity and diversity of parts (which the ego seeks to unify), expressed as a continuum of the Self. Just as waves are not separate from the ocean, parts are not separate from Self. If this state of effortless Self-leadership is upheld and nurtured throughout a child’s life and beyond, there is peace, harmony and balance. The child’s authentic Self flourishes and matures, revealing a seamless whole that persists into adulthood. This quote from Schwartz summarizes it well:

“If you were raised in a perfectly harmonious family in a perfectly harmonious culture, you wouldn’t have parts in these roles. In fact, you would hardly notice your parts, because they would be working together, caring about each other, and feeling connected to your Self—in other words, your inner system would be in harmony. Some people do have many parts that were never burdened-parts that are still in their naturally valuable states. We therapists don’t tend to work with people like this because they don’t especially benefit from therapy. Instead, we usually work with the burdened parts of people that are attached to the problems they bring to us.”

Almost all human beings are primed with what I refer to as the seven veils. These are the cardinal burdens that weigh down our natural state of integrated equanimity and spontaneous creativity. These veils are passed on from caregivers and the collective, resulting in not only personal burdens but also legacy or transgenerational burdens. In our adult life, these burdens can manifest in several forms, most often as thoughts, beliefs, sensations and feelings. While vivid flashbacks are one presentation, it is more common for trauma to surface as emotional reactions stemming from implicit memory, encoded in the psychosomatic body (the knee-jerk or fight-or-flight responses). They surface when something in the present moment resembles the original traumatic experience.

It’s nearly impossible to reach adulthood without encountering all seven veils to some degree, ranging from subtle homeopathic traces to overwhelming catastrophes that flood the psyche. These veils act as a trance-inducing glue that binds parts of ourselves in frozen states, severing our connection to the present moment and our wholeness.

The image in figure 1 illustrates the veils alongside the healing attributes of the Self within the IFS model, depicted in the hands holding the veils. The veils are as follow:

1. Powerlessness (helplessness)

2. Terror (fear)

3. Shame (guilt, humiliation)

4. Betrayal (injustice)

5. Grief (loss, hopelessness)

6. Rejection (abandonment)

7. Neglect (loneliness, unworthiness)

Figure 1. The veils and the healing qualities of Self.

Our painful wounds, especially those from our formative years, leave deep scars within our psyche. Instead of developing into our authentic selves—the individuals we’re meant to become—we’re compelled to construct an artificial identity merely to survive. In our interactions with others, it is this fabricated “survival persona” that we present, which we can refer to as the conditioned mind, separate self, or “solo-self” (discussed in chapter eight). This conditioned secondary self becomes ingrained—a habit or addiction we must break free from. It stifles the natural emergence of our true personality (unique Self) and nondual nature, imprisoning us in a guarded existence rooted in life’s traumatic experiences. To reclaim our intended wholeness, we must heal from the wounds that constrained our personality’s development and forced us to assume an identity incongruous with our authentic being—the unconditioned mind. As Jung wisely stated, “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”

I pray this understanding reaches whoever needs it most for their sacred healing journey. My wish is that we all find the courage to enter our own exiled territories, not with swords to slay, but with lanterns to witness.

A prayer for unburdening

May you hold your scars as the sacred architecture of your resilience, knowing that every dark, gnarly corner of your psyche is nothing less than holy ground, just as I did.

May the ‘demons’ you carry be recognized for what they truly are: loyal protectors, ancient griefs and inherited burdens waiting for the light of your own compassionate Self to set them free.

May you walk out of the shadow of misunderstanding and into the gold of your full, untamed wholeness.

Namaste.

I hope this moment finds you exactly as you are.

I’m writing a quick note to share some exciting news: I am absolutely delighted to be presenting at the upcoming Trauma Conference, and I would love to see you there.

This year’s theme is a beautiful synthesis of spirit, science and body - an intersection that lies at the very heart of my work. To me, this integration is exactly what nonduality points to: the ultimate lack of separation between any layer of reality.

To paraphrase the French mystic Pierre Teilhard de Chardin:

This truth informs my research, my teachings, and the exact angle I utilise in my therapy sessions.

What I’ll Be Sharing:

At the conference, I will be presenting on the value of Presence. We will explore the spectrum spanning from psychological, somatic and spiritual presence, all the way to pure nondual awareness (as illustrated in the diagram below).

Book Signing:

I will also be doing a book signing at the event. Copies of my book will be available at a discounted price from the conference bookstore.

I do so very much hope you will be able to join me.

Warmly,

Laura

P.S. If you can’t make this one, I will also be presenting this material and more at the IFS Conference this October!

Today, on World Invocation Day, I invite you to join me and others around the world in a moment of shared intention. Observed on the Gemini full moon, this day has long been a call to invoke light, love and spiritual purpose for the benefit of all beings.

The Great Invocation emerged from a particular spiritual tradition and has touched many lives. I offer this adaptation in the same spirit of service, reimagined for today’s interconnected world. It honours the diversity of faiths and philosophies, welcomes the full spectrum of human experience and remembers our kinship with all life. It is an invitation to stand together in gratitude, responsibility and hope, and to renew our commitment to one another and to the Earth.

As I reflected on the original invocation this year, I found myself wanting language that could hold a wider circle. Language spacious enough for people of every faith and no faith, for the many parts within us, for our more-than-human kin, and for the mystery that connects us all. What emerged is a contemporary prayer for belonging…

The Great Belonging

From the wellspring of light within all awareness
let clarity awaken in every mind.
May wisdom flow through every being
and illuminate the Earth.

From the wellspring of love within all hearts
let compassion awaken in every life.
May kindness flow through every being
and renew the Earth.

From the deep source of purpose that moves through all things
let courage guide our choices,
our communities
and our shared future.

May we remember that we belong to one another,
human and more-than-human,
seen and unseen,
past, present and yet to come.

May every part of us find its place at the fire:
our joy and our sorrow,
our wounds and our gifts,
our certainty and our doubt.
May all that has been exiled be welcomed home.

May every culture, every colour, every faith
and every sincere path of meaning
be honoured in dignity and respect.

May all creatures flourish.
May forests, rivers, mountains, oceans
and the great web of life be cherished and protected.

Where fear divides, may understanding grow.
Where harm persists, may healing emerge.
Where power is misused, may wisdom prevail.

Let light, love and courageous action
restore right relationship on Earth.

And may we become good ancestors
for all who follow.

Namaste.

This spiral movement relies on two forces that seem to pull in entirely opposite directions, yet they are part of a single, unified gesture of growth. We see this movement written into the architecture of nature, for instance the way a tree grows. Although we mainly see the upward movement with the tree branches reaching towards the sky, the tree makes a simultaneous downward movement. Through gravitropism, its roots reach downward, plunging into the dark, heavy density of the earth, anchoring themselves firmly in response to gravity. Simultaneously, through phototropism, its stems and branches stretch upward, reaching toward the warmth and clarity of the light. The tree cannot have one without the other. The depth of the roots directly dictates the height and reach of the branches.

We embody this exact same paradox in the most basic rhythm of our being (I wrote about this in this post). To take a breath, the intercostal muscles contract, pulling inward, while simultaneously the chest cavity expands outward to welcome the air. To offer a smile, the cheek muscles contract and tighten, yet the result is that the mouth opens and expands into an expression of warmth. Contraction and expansion, pulling in and opening up, are simultaneous movements of any experience.

If we could only allow the contrast of our embodied presence on Earth to be exactly what it is, without labelling the contracted parts as bad or opposing, our entire relationship to suffering would shift. We would begin to see that the lotus requires the thick mud to bloom, and that the roots must embrace the dark earth so that the branches can sway safely in the light.

“No mud, no lotus”

Our inner work follows this exact same pattern. When we reflect, process and journal, we are moving along a spiral that spans what feels like opposite directions. We journey into immanence, which is the healing, integration and embodiment of our personal ‘ego self’ in the relative world. And we journey into transcendence, which is the opening to a spacious, nondual presence that feels unified and beyond the personal. These are not two separate paths or a tug of war. The journey is less about escaping the world to find the light, and more about fully living within the world, rooted in our human skin, while gently awakening to the vastness of what we truly are.

This is the basis of integrative nonduality (or what I call duonity). I have written about duonity elsewhere (here and here) but briefly I would like to offer a definition of duonity from Awaken to Love:

Duonity (multi-unity) is the simultaneous realization and embodied expression of both the nondual, transcendent reality of absolute oneness and immanent reality of relative distinctness. It is the understanding that formless consciousness and the world of form are not two separate things, nor are they a single blurred monolithic entity. Instead, they exist as a singular, dynamic paradox where the ultimate reality of pure awareness completely infuses, animates and expresses itself as the unique, localised human experience.

Rather than viewing the ego, the body and the material world as illusions to be transcended or escaped, duonity recognizes them as the necessary, sacred vehicles through which the absolute experiences itself in time and space. The aim is to harmonise the vertical dimension of spiritual awakening with the horizontal dimension of human psychological integration, allowing a person to live fully in the world of contrast while remaining anchored in the peace of unconditioned presence (as illustrated in the diagram below).

The diagram above maps the anatomy of the spiral journey, illustrating how immanence and transcendence might weave together. Near the bottom of the image, the larger circle contains two intersecting axes. The horizontal axis represents our earthly, psychological reality. On one side lies enmeshment and under-inflation, where we lose our healthy sense of self to others. On the opposite side sits individualism and over-inflation, where the ego hardens into hyper-independence.

The horizontal journey is about finding the centre, the sweet spot of immanence. This centre represents the integration of a whole, authentic and embodied ego within the relative world. This central sweet spot marks the ego’s awakening to the Self, a point where the ego surrenders to the larger Self, though a faint hint of the ego remains, just enough to orient us in the embodied realm. Intersecting this is the vertical axis of transcendence - at the lower pole is spiritual disconnection and materialism, and at upper pole we can fall into spiritual bypass and disconnection from the physical.

The entire dynamic, including horizontal and vertical axes, is the spiral itself. Though it appears to rise, this upward movement is just a limitation of two-dimensional paper trying to map something that is fundamentally dimensionless. The spiral is not climbing away from the earth toward a higher destination. Instead, it represents a deepening intimacy with the exact same point, where the expansion is inward and outward simultaneously, signalling a shift in the quality of awareness rather than a shift in location.

The two smaller circles on either side of the spiral portray a shift in perspective. On the left is the ego’s view, where life feels like a repetitive, flat circle, keeping us trapped inside our personal stories, emotions and thoughts. On the right is the view of the whole Self, which reveals that those flat circles are actually a spiral of expanding awareness, leading to less identification with a separate self and more openness to what is. When the spiral loops, it is not leaving the horizontal axis of our human life to go somewhere better. It is simply revealing that our human life, with all its messy psychology, boundaries and emotions, has no fixed bottom and no restrictive ceiling.

At the very heart of journey, right where the horizontal axis of human integration meets the axis of spiritual transcendence, is a point labeled the unique Self. This is the precise location where duonity comes alive. It shows us that spiritual awakening does not require us to bypass or eliminate the horizontal axis of our humanity. The transcendent dimension is not a place above the immanent; it is the very depth, space and formless essence of the immanent itself. The ultimate reality of pure awareness moves through the centre of our lives, ensuring that we do not escape the world, but rather fully live within it while awakening to what we truly are, collapsed into one seamless, dimensionless reality.

Wherever you find yourself on this spiral right now, whether you are plunging deep into the heavy, dark earth of your human wounding or expanding into the spacious clarity of pure awareness, may you find softness and presence. May you be gentle with your human skin, and may you honour the beautiful, messy and magnificent paradox that you are. May you trust the rhythm of your unique journey, for you are held entirely by the very love that animates you, beautifully complete in both your profound humanity and your infinite vastness.

Namaste.

But is Eros simply sex? The confusion between the two seems to be a misunderstanding that runs deep in the collective psyche. Often, there is a belief that physical intimacy is the ultimate metric of connection. Deep down, I believe we are unconsciously hoping that engaging with a physical body will grant us a meeting of souls and an ultimate sense of union or oneness.

We live in a time where our blueprint for connection is evolving. We are moving away from traditional paradigms toward a more expansive, authentic attunement to what feels right for all partners in each moment. Despite this shift, many still encounter parts of themselves or others that only know how to seek intimacy through the narrow lens of sexuality. For these parts, sexuality can become a stand-in for relational security. While sex can facilitate deep connection, it can also amplify feelings of loneliness if our own or the other person’s inner world is bypassed or ignored.

For those who lead with more nurturing qualities, the relationship itself becomes the primary reality. The nuanced layers and emotional substance form the foundation, while the physical aspect is simply one of many rooms within that house. When the house itself feels neglected, the activity in that one room starts to lose meaning. It functions as an accompaniment rather than the main event. In long term relationships, when life settles and the initial biological urgency of sex fades, the quality of the underlying bond remains. If that bond was never cultivated, a hollow space opens up.

From a nondual perspective, this speaks to the difference between seeking an object and resting in shared being. Eros feels like the connective tissue of the universe, the energy of relating and being seen. When this vast relational field gets reduced to a physical act, it feels like choosing a single drop over the ocean.

Intimacy (into-me-see) does not seem to be something one can possess. Owning another person through their body can leave us feeling lonely or caught in a cycle of reaching for more. Perhaps the invitation here is simply to participate in the flow of the relationship. When we can let go of the effort to capture the other person and instead shift our focus to the living presence right in front of us, the intensity starts to soften. We begin to move away from the blindness of conquest and find our way toward the warmth of actual companionship. And this idea extends beyond romantic relationships. It applies to our creative projects, our family life and our communities. When we are blinded by our own agendas, we miss the relationship entirely, we miss the beauty of being present.

So, with that in mind, my dear reader and fellow consciousness troubadour, I wish you a day filled with Eros and presence. If you are in the northern hemisphere, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day of Beltane. If you are in the southern hemisphere, may you find warmth and reflection in the inward pull of autumn.

(image source: https://druidry.org/resources/beltane-ritual-no-2)

But if we are honest with the science, the brain doesn’t quite work like a magical manifestation wand (it’s more complex and nuanced). The RAS is primarily a network of neurons in the brainstem responsible for arousal and sleep-wake transitions. It acts as a filter for sensory information, helping us prioritise what needs attention. While it helps us ‘spot’ opportunities, it doesn’t possess the magical power to alter the physical world through thought alone.

So, the missing piece in the manifestation conversation isn’t another secret brain hack or a spiritual chant. It’s the more arduous reality of building nervous system safety (not very fast or glamorous, I am afraid, safety can feel boring to a traumatised nervous system - spoiler alert). We are naturally drawn to hacks because they promise speed, but true abundance requires a sustained, embodied and corrective experience of safety that cannot be rushed (you can’t sell, market or package that).

So, what am I saying then? Well, manifestation (in my humble opinion) would hugely benefit from encompassing all parts of us, especially the ones quietly running the show. These parts were shaped by our early experiences (even as a foetus!) and impacted our autonomic nervous system (yikes!). I know you think you are in control of your thoughts right now but let me just remind you that the few bits of data you are currently conscious of are being supplied by an undercurrent of trillions of other bits you’re unconscious of. Your system has efficiently pruned and/or forcefully suppressed those trillions of details just so you can appear half-reasonable to the outside world.

Here’s a brief glimpse into what I am talking about, from my book Awaken to Love. If it feels like too much info, just skip it and move onto the next bit of this article…

Research in the field of interpersonal neurobiology suggests that a significant portion of our behaviour is driven by subconscious survival patterns (think of the iceberg above). If your system learned early on that being ‘too much’ or having ‘too much’ led to rejection, it will view abundance as a threat. When the nervous system is in a state of threat, its priorities change from growth and restoration to simple survival.

In this state, your body is effectively saying ‘We are not going there again’. It looks like self-sabotage, but it’s really a highly adaptive survival strategy. No amount of ‘RAS programming’ can override a body that believes it is in danger.

This is why many people find themselves stuck despite doing all the right mindset work. If we want to change our experience, we must prioritise feeling safe. Because you can’t bully a frightened nervous system into feeling secure. No matter how many times you tell yourself you are worthy, your protective parts will continue to guard the gates if they believe opening them will lead to pain.

Our personality is largely a collection of adopted survival strategies (or what in IFS are called protector parts). If your protector parts learned that being small and quiet was the only way to stay safe in your family of origin, those parts will respond with fight, flight or freeze the moment you try to step into a bigger life.

So, the reality of manifestation looks a bit more like this: You don’t just manifest anything you want. You manifest what your nervous system perceives as safe.

If your dream sits outside your body’s current window of tolerance, your system will respond by pulling you away. This might look like procrastination, sudden fatigue or an inexplicable loss of interest just as things start to get good. Your body is choosing survival over your vision board because, to your nervous system, survival is the only priority.

Through the nonduality lens, nothing is actually missing. You are already whole, but your nervous system acts as a filter through which that wholeness is expressed. In this view, building internal safety, over time, will likely provide more internal peace than some ‘neural magic’ or forcing beliefs (though magic is also good and belief work is useful for some people some of the time, what a pickle 😉).

Here is my take on this. It may change in five minutes, but for now, this feels accurate: The slow, patient work of manifesting involves gentle, soft curiosity about our protectors and listening to them instead of overriding them. These parts will eventually show us the traumatic moments they lived through all alone in the absence of an empathetic witness. Now, we finally get to be that witness for ourselves.

By becoming that empathetic witness for our own parts, we allow our system to move from a state of contraction to one of expansion. When the body begins to trust that it is safe to be seen, safe to receive, and safe to exist fully, the resistance begins to dissolve. We stop trying to manifest from a place of ‘not enough’ and start allowing our inherent wholeness to breathe through a settled, secure nervous system.

Care note: This is a channeled piece. I don’t know who this is for or why it’s reaching you specifically. I was only asked to note it and pass it on as it came through, unedited. Take care as you move through it.

I’m using your language

because that’s what you’ll understand

the word soul or body means nothing to me

but you will get an idea of what I am pointing to

I’m speaking to you through her
because you’re still a little confused

about why you are here
what this plane even is

and by now
you’ve probably started to realise

life on earth is not easy for your body

it’s dense
intense
and confusing

earth is a place of learning
and being here asks a lot of you

it’s true
there is learning at every plane of consciousness
every iota of creativity carries learning

but what’s different about earth
is the contrast

the sheer range of it

souls come here for That
for contrast

contrast is the soul’s spice

and not many are actually given the chance

souls compete to get on earth

because for a soul
contrast is natural

as natural as water to fish
as breath to lungs in your world

the lessons on earth swing
between extremes for your body

sometimes so quickly
your body can’t keep up

one moment
you’re in something beautiful

a piece of music
that feels like it understands you

a sunset
that makes everything go quiet for a second

watching a child smile

kissing your loved one

succeeding at your projects

the natural world
animals
landscapes…

all of it feels so rich
so alive, so rewarding to you

and then

the next moment

you’re faced with something
that your eyes find hard to look at

violence
cruelty
people hurting each other
in ways that don’t seem to have any reason behind them

physical pain
mental struggle

suffering that just exists
without any clear lesson attached to it

the same world
that gives you something beautiful

can turn around
and show you something devastating

and that’s the part
that’s hard for the body

not just that both exist

but that they exist together

terror
and beauty

at the same time

the soul already knows
they are one creativity unfolding

the soul is nourished by the contrast of this unfolding

like your body’s eyes are nourished

by a magnificent painting with all the colours and depths

for the body contrast is suffering

for the soul contrast is fulfilment and nourishment

the body flinches and reacts and contracts to contrast

the soul beholds it…

don’t you now be thinking

that the body and soul are separate or that i am separate

we are one unfolding

i am always here

the soul feels everything with the body

but it is not suffering

because of soul’s affinity for contrast

which gives it nourishment

like breastmilk to a baby

the soul wishes that the body could see

as it sees

the soul is not exactly immune to the body’s suffering

just like a parent winces each time their child falls

but it’s not personal or painful

the soul wants the body to see this truth

to perceive both

you’re asked to live with both

the body which you call ego will try to escape into the beauty
and pretend the rest isn’t there

or

it will fall so far into the pain
that it can’t see anything else

but neither of those really works

because the world keeps showing you both

again
and again

that’s why you’re here, for both, for the contrast

the soul’s work
isn’t to fix the contrast

it’s to live inside it

to hold both

souls love contrast

contrast is the souls natural place of creativity

but that’s not easy for your body

the body doesn’t know how to do that

to rest in contrast, in paradox

it feels impossible

like being a tree
pulled in two directions at once

branches reaching up
into light
into meaning which you call god
into everything expansive

roots going down
into darkness
into pressure
into everything unseen

but you must realise that you are both

at the same time

though bridging that distance
is not simple for your body

some spiritual perspectives
already explained this to you

earth is one of the harder places to be

because it compresses
such a wide range of experience
into one life

for the body it’s hard
to hold both sides, to hold it all

without shutting down
or choosing one over the other or discarding it altogether

lean into the beauty together with the suffering

I hear you protest that you can’t do that

this is why it’s so hard and why you came here

you are not to fix the contrast for it is your soul’s nourishment

you are learning to

stay open inside it

to develop
a kind of double vision

if you could listen with your heart

you would hear

the birds are already singing
your soul’s purpose, your love of contrast

all the time

if you could see with your heart

you would see the contrast

as a kind of art

because for the soul

it is

earth is a living gallery

something you move through
with all your senses

the stories weave the contrast

but you discard them in preference for ideals

if only you would participate fully

you would perceive clearly

and you would know This

you would let beauty matter

without pretending suffering isn’t real

you would acknowledge the pain

without losing your ability
to see what’s still beautiful

and that isn’t easy

it’s the hardest part
of being here

a world that was only beautiful
wouldn’t stretch you

a world that was only painful

would at least be consistent

even if it was unbearable

but this world

asks something different

that no other experience in consciousness does

it asks you to live in between

where things don’t make sense for your body

but you’re still asked
to respond
to notice
to keep going

nothing here is actually broken (from my view,
though I know there is much suffering for the body
and you must attend to it as best you can for all)

above all, know that the contrast
is part of the design

and you are being asked

to hold it

all at once

The same awe and deep reverence I felt for that mission, I feel for the human psyche, which to this day remains largely unexplored. Just as 95% of the universe remains unknown, so does the vast ocean of the unconscious composed of trillion-bit stream of data that secretly steers your ship (your body-mind). I make it my mission to map as much of that territory as possible, so that a person can live a fulfilled life without being bogged down by the weight of internal turmoil.

In my practice, I often feel like a co-pilot in the realm of psychonautics and I absolutely love it. I find such delight in the psyche, in the individual, in the planet, and in this entire manifestation called humanity. I have a deep love for this tiny bit of blue we call Earth, but to move past the gushing, while many associate the term ‘psychonaut’ specifically with the use of mind altering substances, its roots are much broader. Derived from the Greek words for soul and sailor, psychonautics literally translates as soul sailor. I do often think of myself as a doula of the soul, the feminine, nurturing version of the explorer archetype. In the official literature, psychonautics refers to a methodology for describing and explaining the subjective effects of altered states of consciousness. This can include anything from meditation and lucid dreaming to the trance like states we enter during Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy.

When a client enters my room, whether they consciously know it or not, they may be launching into the deepest and most volatile parts of their own history. This is especially true when we are working with trauma. Just as the engineers at NASA calculate trajectories down to the millimetre, I find that working with a traumatised psyche requires an incredible amount of delicacy and skill. One wrong move or a poorly timed intervention can feel like a breach in the hull for someone who may already be struggling to stay grounded. In the metaphorical, acutely perceptive and sensual language of the psyche, a single misstep from the therapist can take many forms. It might be a smile that is just a fraction too upturned, a blank stare, a brow that furrows at the wrong moment, a vocal tone that carries too much harshness, or a word that clangs like a thousand bells in a space that feels so tender. I hope I am conveying well enough just how precise trauma work can be, especially for those clients with early childhood shock trauma and attachment wounds.

Therapists and clients frequently venture into memories that can feel as vast and cold as deep space. Sometimes when we ask a part how old it is, it’ll respond with something like “timeless, I have always been here”. There are even instances of memories that feel like they belong to past lives. In many ways, trauma work is a form of time travel, but it is a bizarre kind of journey because we are reviewing the past within the present moment.

There is a razor edge between having just enough presence in the here and now through embodiment to propel us safely into the deep network of forgotten memories without becoming lost in them. A client has previously called this the “Goldilocks zone”: not too little, not too much, just right. This skill as a practitioner to navigate the co-shared psychic space into that perfect zone is something that is learned and practiced, but I also feel it is a quality you either instinctively have or you do not. Another client once referred to this magical quality as “the unicorn therapist”. The unicorn is the therapist who has not only learned and practiced but who also carries a kind of soul mission to do this work, a kind of bodhisattva. Just as only 28 people have ever traveled beyond low Earth orbit, and those people were likely destined for that journey on some level, I feel only a handful of therapists are true bodhisattvas of the inner world. I hasten to add that this is not to discount the vital and wonderful work of therapists in general.

In general, I feel that therapists and doulas of the soul should be prepared for a psycho-spiritual inner terrain that is rich, unique, metaphorical and potentially volatile. Whether it is breathwork, guided imagery, or doing post-psychedelic integration, there is always a likelihood of ‘otherworldly’ feelings rising to the surface. The therapist must be prepared for all eventualities, since in these otherworldly or altered states, the familiar landmarks of daily life can vanish, as can the entire sense of self. Clients can come out of sessions feeling a little soft, tender and jet-lagged, and needing time and space to integrate. This is the post-therapy integration period, which can last anywhere from 48 hours to 30 days as the worked memory reconsolidates. For some, there can be slow shifts even decades after the therapeutic work. After a deep dive, even without any mind-altering substances, it can take a while to land back into the dishes and laundry level of operating. Clients should ideally rest, hydrate well, and as advised after EMDR sessions, avoid alcohol or recreational drugs for 48 hours.

Much of the time during a therapeutic session, the client is capable of steering the ship, but there are instances where the emotional gravity becomes too heavy and the therapist has to step in. In this way, internal psyche deep dives really can feel synonymous with different forms of extreme exertion and danger, like space or ocean floor exploration. It can feel as dangerous as encountering hidden reefs in marine exploration. In the therapy room, those reefs are the jagged edges of the unconscious that can snag a person once they have drifted far from the surface of the ego’s organized and protective functioning. At this point, the therapist’s own integrated, calm Self can provide a gentle navigation to keep things on course when the ego, which acts as the psyche’s mission control, begins to flicker or fade out.

The ego itself loves to keep things simple, often operating in binary terms: on or off, up or down, safe or dangerous. It craves a map that looks like the dichotomous faces of the Earth and the Moon - clear, predictable and defined. But when we are in the void, whether it is psychic space or outer space, and we are traveling the terrain of the unknown, that simplicity crumbles. What at first appeared as binary becomes vastly more complex and nuanced. You begin to understand that the distinct maps we once held are merely local descriptions. Far out, the duality dissolves, and you are left with the profound realisation that it is all one whole, unfolding phenomenon.

Our inner world can feel a bit like this too. The apparent dichotomy of Jekyll, the pleasant version of us, and Hyde, the unpleasant version, seems simple, but this is just the ego’s perception. In reality, it is a much more nuanced interplay of inner characters which both the client and therapist navigate together. This is inscendence, the act of diving within. Of course, the micro and macro are simply the same thing scaled up or down, which is the premise of the nested model of consciousness I spoke about in Awaken to Love.

Sometimes during a therapy session, just as on the Artemis II mission, there are moments where we lose contact with the ego altogether. We might find ourselves floating in a state of deep, silent presence or descending far down into the unconscious where words do not exist. It is a profound responsibility to be a psychonaut in these spaces. Just as Tibetan lamas have been described as psychonauts who journey across the frontiers of death into in between realms, we too must be comfortable with the liminal spaces of the mind. There is a saying that someone can only take you as far as they themselves have been.

The successful return of the Artemis crew reminded me why our rigorous training matters so much. Just as they spend years in simulators preparing for every possible malfunction, a therapist needs extensive knowledge and practice to remain calm when a session enters a critical phase. We have to be able to move seamlessly and provide a safe container so that no matter how far out into the darkness a person travels, they know there is a way back to earth. Looking at that splashdown yesterday, I felt a renewed respect for the bravery it takes to explore any frontier, whether it is the moon or the hidden corners of the human soul. I salute every person who is brave enough to dive within. You are already a hero/heroine in my eyes.

Namaste 🙏

Care note: The following opinion piece contains discussions of spiritual abuse, sexual exploitation and systemic harm. Please prioritize your well-being as you read.

Spiritual veneer tends to reframe darkness as merely the absence of light. This framing conveniently invites us to look away from active harm. But for those who have navigated the halls of spiritual abuse, darkness is rarely passive. It is active, calculated and frequently hidden behind a veil of high-minded vocabulary.

Recent revelations from the Epstein files have sent a tremor through spiritual communities. The names surfacing are not just celebrities but icons of modern spirituality.

In the reported correspondence between Chopra and Epstein, we see a disturbing use of nondual philosophy to trivialize the material reality of harm. In an exchange that borders on parody, the two discuss the nature of reality:

Epstein: Does a cell have form? Is a cell aware? Does it have emotion? Does it perform actions? Did you find me a cute Israeli?

Chopra: Cells are human constructs. No such thing! Universe is human construct. No such thing. Cute girls are aware when they make noises. God is a construct. Cute girls are real.

Epstein: So when the girl says ‘oh my god’?

Chopra: Yes. That’s divine transcendence.

Epstein: oh, i thought she was just referring to me

Chopra: That’s because you are God in drag.

Chopra: Come to Israel with us... Bring your girls. It will be fun to have you. Love, Deepak Chopra MD.

In another email, Chopra’s concern shifts from the metaphysical to the legal, asking Epstein about the status of his mounting scandals:

Chopra: Did she [the woman who filed a civil lawsuit alleging abuse] also drop civil case against you?

Epstein: yup.

Chopra: Good.

These emails took place in 2016 and 2017, years after Epstein’s 2008 conviction for soliciting prostitution from a minor. Despite Epstein’s known predatory behaviour, Chopra’s tone remained warm, playful and effusive; in one email, he even tells Epstein he is "deeply grateful for our friendship".

As a therapist, spiritual teacher and parent, the line “God is a construct. Cute girls are real” stopped me cold. In spiritual teaching, students are often told that the ego and the physical world are illusory, only Brahman (God) is real. However, in these emails, that philosophy is inverted. By labelling the divine as a “construct” while fetishizing “cute girls”, the sacred is dismissed to make room for the predatory.

In their correspondence, the two frequently used metaphors regarding "the tiger", with Chopra saying things like “I will die riding the tiger”, “tiger is tamed for now” and “The tiger is hungry.”

This metaphor is not incidental. In esoteric traditions, the tiger symbolizes primal forces: lust, power and the ego. To claim one can “ride” the tiger evokes a sense of tantric mastery, a kind of spiritual exceptionalism where the practitioner believes they are advanced enough to indulge in inappropriate impulses without consequence. A commitment to “die riding the tiger” signals a lifelong dedication to this psychological edge-walking. This perspective effectively transforms inappropriate behaviour into the heroic mythos of a spiritual warrior. Ultimately, this language functions as the aestheticization of exploitation, allowing the predatory to be rebranded as the profound.

In another exchange, Epstein asks Chopra what he “enjoys most now”. Chopra responds:

“I don’t know that I can really say… My biological needs are met occasionally but—that too—it seems I’ve been there/done that… I do enjoy the company of younger intellectually sharp and self-aware women and love to engage with them to inspire and stimulate them”.

An expressed preference for “younger intellectually sharp” women to “inspire and stimulate” carries a scent of grooming through mentorship. Spiritual abuse thrives on asymmetries of wisdom and power. The teacher offers enlightenment; the student offers proximity, devotion and access. When a spiritual leader seeks out younger women for stimulation (intellectual or otherwise) the line between guru and predator blurs.

The mention of the Dalai Lama was, for me, deeply surprising and saddening. His name appears in the Epstein files because he is referenced in emails and documents relating to philanthropic events or public and academic appearances. Before drawing any conclusions, it is important to emphasise that not all media reports or online commentary are reliable, and that being named in the Epstein files does not, in itself, imply wrongdoing. That distinction matters.

Documents suggest that Epstein’s advisers claimed to have met the Dalai Lama at Epstein’s Manhattan residence. However, these claims remain unverified. Whilst an email from Epstein reads: “I’m working on the Dalai Lama for dinner”, the Office of His Holiness the Dalai Lama has recently stated that he has never met Epstein.

Separate questions have also been raised regarding potential financial donations, though these too remain unclear. There is mention of His Holiness meeting NXIVM leader Keith Raniere in Albany, New York, in 2009, during which he offered Raniere a scarf of purity and received an honorarium for the visit. Years before His Holiness visit, concerns and critical reporting about NXIVM had begun to circulate, including an expose in Forbes dating back to 2003. As in the Epstein case, the Office of His Holiness later issued a clarification, stating that neither His Holiness the Dalai Lama nor the Dalai Lama Foundation received $1 million for the Albany appearance.

It is worth considering why Epstein (or Raniere) might have sought an association with someone of the Dalai Lama’s stature. Public appearances are not formal endorsements, yet they do carry symbolic weight. Associations with widely respected moral or spiritual figures can confer legitimacy and protection, serving as a reminder of how prestige can shield powerful individuals from scrutiny. In that sense, had such a meeting occurred, the Dalai Lama’s global standing (as a symbol of peace, compassion and moral integrity) could have been used by Epstein to enhance his public image. This observation is not an accusation against the Dalai Lama, but rather a reflection on how reputations can be instrumentalised by others.

Beyond the Epstein files, this broader story prompted me to reflect more deeply on His Holiness himself. He is, without question, one of the most revered spiritual figures of our time and an important source of guidance and inspiration for millions. At the same time, I was already aware of several earlier public moments (entirely unrelated to Epstein) that had given me pause. In particular, his comments about women have been repeated almost verbatim across multiple years. From his 2014 interview with Larry King to a 2019 BBC interview, he has consistently stated that if a female Dalai Lama were to succeed him, she “should be more attractive.” He further suggested that people would prefer not to look at a “dead face”. These remarks were sometimes framed as humour, yet their repetition has raised understandable concerns.

Such comments prompted me to reflect on how even the highest moral authorities can, at times, reproduce assumptions that reduce women to their appearance. Even when unintended, these statements risk reinforcing cultural norms that have long enabled the objectification and exploitation of women.

Similarly, incidents such as the widely circulated 2023 video of the Dalai Lama asking a young boy to “suck his tongue” are often defended through a cultural lens or attributed to language barriers (with claims that his intended phrase was “che le sa” meaning “eat my tongue,” a purported custom in Tibetan culture). While cultural nuance is important and should not be dismissed, it is also reasonable to hold global spiritual leaders (particularly those who regularly engage with world leaders, scholars and diverse communities) to a high standard of awareness and care, especially when interacting with children. An opinion piece by a national director of SNAP, who was himself sexually abused as a child by his parish priest, highlights the dangers of minimising or trivialising inappropriate conduct involving children and underscores the ethical dilemmas such responses create.

There is a documented history of abuse within certain Tibetan Buddhism institutions (again, not involving the Dalai Lama himself). Acknowledging this history does not negate the profound wisdom or compassion found within these traditions. Rather, it invites a more honest and nuanced conversation about spiritual power and accountability. It is possible to hold a both/and perspective: recognising that a spiritual teacher may offer deep insight and guidance, while also acknowledging that harm can occur within spiritual systems when power goes unchecked.

Speaking openly about spiritual abuse is not an act of disrespect; it is an act of care. True integrity in spiritual communities does not come from preserving idealised images but from having the courage to bring difficult stories into the light. Only then can healing, accountability and genuine liberation become possible - for everyone involved.

Final reflections…

Spiritual abuse thrives in the gap between a teacher’s public “light” and their private “shadow”. When we see leaders using metaphors to justify their proximity to darkness, we must stop calling it “mysterious” and start calling it a warning. If a teacher’s philosophy allows them to remain deeply grateful for a friendship with a predator, their philosophy is not a path to liberation but a toolkit for complicity.

Why do members of the spiritual elite occasionally gravitate toward centres of worldly power, even when that power is sustained by the exploitation of the vulnerable?

When Deepak Chopra says he will “die riding the tiger,” it can be read as an expression of the guru complex - the belief that the usual laws of gravity, ethics or accountability do not apply to the one seated atop the tiger. Describing a predator as “God in drag” risks enacting a form of spiritualised misogyny: invoking transcendence to excuse views or associations that would be considered deeply inappropriate in any other context.

The Epstein files serve as a stark reminder that no amount of meditation, insight or nondual rhetoric exempts anyone from the most basic moral obligation: to protect the innocent. Predatory systems endure not only through overt violence but through the silence, reverence and rationalisations of supposedly enlightened men.

P.S. Perhaps this piece isn’t really about any individual (or even spirituality) at all, but rather about the systems of oppression that create the conditions for such harm to take root. I’m referring, of course, to patriarchy, and more broadly to what bell hooks described as the interlocking systems of domination. I felt this video spoke directly to that deeper layer.

I find myself moving away from hierarchical structures and the elevation of singular leaders, and toward placing people and collective responsibility at the centre. In that sense, I resonate deeply with Thich Nhat Hạnh’s idea that the next Buddha is not one person, but a we. The Zen phrase “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him” points to the need to release idolization and fixed ideas about spiritual authority. It reminds us that awakening is rooted in direct experience and lived understanding, not in clinging to figures, doctrines or borrowed truths.

We are entering an era of heart-centred wisdom and inner sovereignty. No more searching outside ourselves for what can only be found within. If we’re honest, we gave our power away by seeking permission from external authorities to be who we are. The very systems that shaped us obscured this truth.

No more seeking. No more permission slips. It’s time to embody our own inner authority.

A moment of transparency: This piece has been deeply challenging to write. There are many tensions to hold at once, and the comments have been invaluable in helping me refine the ideas here. I will continue to update this piece as new insights and feedback emerge. As ever, the next Buddha is not an individual but a we, as it has always been through the lens of non-separation.

Support resources

If you or someone you know has been affected by sexual abuse, spiritual abuse or any other form of abuse related to the details of this article, please contact the following UK-based organizations for support:

• The Survivors Trust: A UK-wide umbrella organization for specialist rape and sexual abuse support services. thesurvivorstrust.org

• NAPAC (National Association for People Abused in Childhood): Offers support and information to adult survivors of all types of childhood abuse. napac.org.uk

• Rape Crisis England & Wales: Provides specialist support and services for women and girls who have experienced sexual violence. rapecrisis.org.uk

• Safe Spaces: A free and independent support service for victims and survivors of church-related abuse. safespacesenglandandwales.org.uk

• Mankind Initiative: Support for male victims of domestic and sexual abuse. mankind.org.uk

I have witnessed this phenomenon firsthand in my patients. In those with retinal diseases such as age-related macular degeneration (AMD), the retina gradually atrophies while the cortical visual system continues to fire. As a result, vivid visual phenomena can occur despite functional blindness. This condition is known as Charles Bonnet syndrome. It would be, and often is, easy to assume that such individuals have “gone mad” or are “possessed” because they report seeing visions. Indeed, poorly trained clinicians sometimes misdiagnose these cases and prescribe antipsychotic medication. Yet even a basic understanding of neuroscience shows what is actually happening. The brain’s inherent drive to perceive and to generate experience persists even in the absence of sensory input. This same drive helps explain many of the phenomena that the ego attempts to disown and project outward. Here, the ego is defined as ‘the sense of self’ - a small island of conscious awareness immersed in a sea of the unconscious, attempting to create control, predictability and safety. I never use the term ego in a derogatory sense; it is a useful and necessary facet of the human experience.

Just before we continue, a part of me would like to add that, as a practitioner, I remain unattached to specific labels or origins regarding unusual phenomena. I am open to all interpretations, primarily as they are understood and experienced by the client. This discussion explores the possibility of unattached burdens beyond the supernatural (though it does not discount it), and poses that they may simply be the ego’s disowned facets. This perspective is underpinned by concepts clearly defined in modern psychology - frameworks that ancient civilizations lacked when they first attempted to describe these experiences.

So, let’s dive in...

Over the past 30 or so years IFS has provided a unique modality for healing trauma. As the model has matured and interfaced with transpersonal and spiritual domains, it has encountered phenomena that do not easily fit the standard “part” taxonomy. These phenomena, currently categorized under the umbrella of “unattached burdens” (UBs), represent one of the most intellectually challenging and ethically sensitive areas of contemporary clinical practice. In this article I aim to get curious about the evolution, phenomenology and clinical management of UBs, contrasting them with mainstream psychological concepts such as malignant introjects and projective identification, while centering the necessity of a boundaried, ethical approach to harm reduction.

The language used to describe internal experiences that feel “not-me” or “foreign” has undergone several significant iterations within the IFS community. These shifts in terminology reflect deeper ontological shifts in how practitioners understand the boundaries of the human mind and the nature of psychic influence. In the nascent stages of the IFS model, Richard Schwartz and early practitioners encountered internal elements that seemed to lack the “positive intent” universally attributed to parts. These elements were often referred to informally as “critters”. This term was largely descriptive and pragmatic, acknowledging a presence that felt autonomous and often troublesome without necessarily making a formal metaphysical claim. As the IFS model sought greater clinical legitimacy and a standardized lexicon, “unattached burdens” became the preferred term. This label suggests that while the energy is present within the system, it is not an inherent component of the individual’s personality; rather, it is an external force that has become ‘lodged’ there. The term “unattached” can be a point of confusion for clinicians because, functionally, if an energy is actively interfering with a client, it is technically attached to their system. However, within the IFS framework, “unattached” means that the burden is not tethered to the identity or survival strategy of a specific part. Unlike legacy or personal traumatic burdens, which are woven into a part’s history and functional role, unattached burdens exist as guests (however unwelcome) rather than integrated features of the internal family.

Most recently, the work of Robert Falconer has expanded this category further into the transpersonal realm. In his seminal work, The Others Within Us, Falconer introduces concepts such as “spiritual presence experiences” and “porous mind”, moving toward a framework that acknowledges the potential for literal external entities or energies to inhabit the human psyche. This evolution from “critters” to “unattached burdens” and finally to “the others” represents a trajectory from psychological pragmatism toward spiritualist ontology.

There is a significant disparity between those who view UBs as literal external entities and those who feel that mainstream IFS and psychoanalytic concepts can adequately explain these phenomena. Practitioners wary of the UB hypothesis suggest that the creation of this special category might inadvertently lead to the neglect of more standard psychological processes, particularly the enduring force of introjection in childhood. They advocate for a closer look at how the psyche internalizes external voices before concluding they are separate entities.

The experience of an unattached burden often feels so distinct from self that a supernatural explanation can feel more grounded to the sufferer than a clinical one. This “illusion of the external” is maintained by three primary psychological mechanisms:

• Introjection (the internalized other): Through the “swallowing whole” of psychic structures (often from parents or abusers) the mind creates a presence that carries a foreign cadence and value system. This “malignant introject” serves as a survival mechanism; a dependent child may “take in” a parent’s hostility to preserve the external bond. To a mind primed for the sensational, this is not experienced as a memory or a personality trait, but as an occupying entity, i.e. a “foreign body” that feels “not-me” and lacks any apparent positive intent.

• Projective identification (the interpersonal ghost): This is perhaps the most “haunting” defence. Rather than mere projection, the individual subconsciously manipulates their environment until another person embodies their disowned feelings. To an observer, this appears to be a literal “contagion of spirit” or an invisible transfer of energy.

• Ego-dystonic defence: When a thought or urge is radically inconsistent with the self-concept, the brain’s “firewall” labels it as “not-me.” If a thought exists within the head but is rejected by the self, primitive logic dictates it must belong to a “Him”, “Her” or “It”.

This tendency is rooted in an evolutionary “priming for badness.” Through Hyperactive Agency Detection, it was historically safer for humans to mistake a rustling bush for a tiger (a presence) than to mistake a tiger for a rustling bush. We are biologically wired to see “beings” in the shadows of our minds, just as we experience pareidolia (the tendency to see faces in random shapes or clouds). We personify our fears because a “person” or “entity” can be bargained with, fled from or defeated. One can engage a demon; one cannot fight a formless neurological glitch.

By viewing Robert Falconer’s magnificent work through this lens, we bridge the gap between the “porous mind” of the ancient world and the clinical “citadel” of modern psychology. We must ask whether these UBs are truly external interlopers or the psyche’s most sophisticated metaphors for its own fractured depths.

There is a significant clinical risk here: if a practitioner treats a malignant introject purely as a UB to be “sent to the light”, they may inadvertently bypass the essential therapeutic work. The client’s vulnerable parts need to unburden the trauma of having to “house such a monster” in the first place. While the expulsion of a UB can be a powerful metaphor for healing, treating it as a literal entity may obscure the human origin of the suffering.

Legacy burdens and epigenetics

The concept of legacy burdens (burdens passed down through family, cultural or ancestral lines) further complicates the UB ‘diagnosis’. These burdens can be transmitted through storytelling, modelling and epigenetic mechanisms, resulting in a client carrying a “foreign” energy that was never theirs to begin with. While these feel like “not-me” experiences, they are usually held by specific parts within the client’s system that require witnessing. The “foreignness” of the energy is literal in its origin, but its location is deeply embedded in the family system’s psychological heritage.

Protectors-in-exile

These are guardians within the internal family who were locked away not because they were vulnerable or weak, but because their protective methods were deemed “too much,” dangerous or socially unacceptable by the family of origin. When a protector is suppressed in the “darkness” of the psyche for decades, it undergoes a process of distortion. These parts do not freeze like exiles; they fester, accruing strength and wilderness while imprisoned. Because they have been rejected by both the outer family and the internal manager parts, they often present to the conscious mind as frightening, animalistic or even demonic figures. I wrote about them in this post.

A client looking inside may not see a “knight in shining armour” but instead encounter:

• Beasts: Rabid dogs, dragons, wolves with bared teeth or panthers stalking in the shadows.

• Natural disasters: Dormant volcanoes, hurricanes, tidal waves or black holes.

• Villains: Demons, assassins, rigid authoritarian soldiers or witches.

• Distorted figures: Goblins, lepers or faceless shadowy ghosts.

It is a crucial clinical tenet that this scary imagery is symbolic, not literal. The more horrifying the image, the more desperate the system’s protective efforts usually are. This intensity often signals a profound original trauma, where the 'foreign body' represents a deeply introjected scary figure (one that the psyche has 'swallowed whole' but has yet to metabolize). To illustrate this, consider the case of a mother whose protector-in-exile presents as a terrifying wolf with an impulse to eat her actual children. To a therapist looking through a UB lens, this might immediately trigger an expulsion protocol. However, if met with Self-energy and curiosity, the wolf often reveals a heartbreakingly logical intent: it is a fierce protector of the mother’s depleted resources, using the imagery of consumption to signal that she must reclaim her life force or be entirely consumed by her parenting role.

Healing these parts requires the therapist to remain steeped in Self-energy, resisting the urge to fix or expel the part. With patience and presence, the therapist provides a safe container for the “monster” to reveal its story and eventually transform into a noble guardian or a source of vital energy.

Projective identification

The psychoanalytic concept of projective identification, primarily developed by Melanie Klein and expanded by Wilfred Bion and Thomas Ogden, offers a sophisticated framework for understanding the experience of “foreign bodies” within the psyche without invoking literal entities.

Wilfred Bion described “beta elements” as unprocessed emotional experiences that the mind cannot yet think or symbolize. When an individual’s internal container fails to process these elements, they are expelled through projective identification but continue to be felt as “inside” in an alien form. This creates a phenomenology that is strikingly similar to the UB:

• Thing-like quality: The experience feels mechanical or parasitic rather than like a feeling.

• Intrusiveness: The presence feels imposed and opaque, resisting the client’s voluntary control.

• Internal persecution: The psyche treats the disowned element like a foreign implant or a commanding voice.

To resolve these states, Bion introduced the “alpha function”. This is the mental process that “digests” beta elements, transforming them into alpha elements (the building blocks of dreams, memories and thoughts).

• From thing to thought: While beta elements are “flat” and “robotic” (one-dimensional), alpha elements are three-dimensional and alive. They can be linked together to form a personal narrative.

• The container: In therapy, the practitioner acts as a “container.” By staying present with the UB without fear, the practitioner uses their own alpha function to “metabolize” the client’s raw, terrifying sensations.

• Re-ownership: As the “foreign body” is processed, it loses its antagonistic, one-dimensional quality. It ceases to be a “thing” (UB) and begins to feel like a “story” (a part with history).

From this perspective, the “foreign body” is not an external invader but a self-state that has never been subjectively inhabited or narrated. The goal is not merely removal but “metabolic integration”, i.e. translating the mechanical “it” back into a felt “me”.

The clinical hazards of spiritual work and the ethics of boundary

One of the primary concerns regarding the UB category is the potential for clinical harm, particularly when spiritual frameworks are introduced too quickly. When spirituality is involved, things move faster and get out of hand quicker. This speed is often a symptom of “therapist parts” (such as a “hero” or “exorcist” part) becoming activated by the client’s symptoms and seeking a quick resolution through a spiritual bypass.

A standard step in identifying UBs is to ask the energy or presence “Are you a part of [Client Name]?” If the answer is “no” some practitioners immediately assume they are dealing with a UB. This is a risky clinical assumption. Vulnerable parts, protectors-in-exile and parts blended with malignant introjects often “lie” or misidentify themselves as a protective strategy. This “lying” is not a moral failing but a wisdom of vulnerable parts wanting to protect the system from “bad energy”. If a practitioner assumes a “no” is an ontological truth, they may inadvertently cast out a part of the client that most needs their compassion.

Conclusion

The discussion surrounding UBs in IFS is far from settled. As the model continues to evolve, practitioners may be navigating the tension between the expanding transpersonal horizon and the necessity of clinical safety. The research and clinical evidence suggest several essential conclusions for the professional community.

First, the label itself is secondary to the ethical reality of the practice. Whether one uses the term “UB”, “entity”, “fractal” or “misaligned energy”, the central focus must remain on the client’s well-being and safety. A robust practice is one that holds multiple possibilities simultaneously, remaining wary and cautious without fully closing the door on the possibility of a UB, while simultaneously looking for the “protector-in-exile” or the “malignant introject”. Second, the 6 Fs of the IFS protocol should almost never be skipped. Most suspected UBs are actually exiles, protectors or legacy burdens that require a “good old-fashioned” befriending process. Patience is key here, and this could take years, read that again: assessing whether something is a UB could take years, not a one-off workshop. Third, the psychological “force” of introjection in childhood must not be underestimated. The psyche’s ability to create “foreign bodies” out of the toxic projections of others is a testament to the human instinct for survival. Treating these as literal external spirits can be a form of spiritual bypass that leaves the original trauma unaddressed.

Finally, the future of IFS will likely involve a more integrated understanding of the “others within us”. Whether these are understood as split-off self-states, beta elements or literal transpersonal presences, they all respond most profoundly to the presence of Self-energy. The most ethical and effective practitioners will be those who can hold the “monster” with calm curiosity, wait for the managers to give permission, and move with the slow and steady pace that honours the delicate ecology of the human soul. The goal is not merely to flush out what’s not yours but to ensure that every “X” that has been holding energy (be it a part, a vessel or a neurological structure) is restored to its rightful, noble place within the internal family.

Bonus material….

Two years ago I published a book on IFS, Jungian analysis and Psychosynthesis (Awaken to Love) and here’s an excerpt on UBs (including from a nondual perspective) ….

Exploring the depths of our psyche can sometimes unearth unsettling phenomena that challenge our understanding. Like the vast unknown of the cosmos, the inner realms contain mysteries that can evoke a sense of fear. Quantum theory hints at transcendent realities beyond our current grasp, just as our subjective experiences reveal profound ambiguities that demand open-mindedness. In this vein, let us consider Schwartz’s perspective on “unattached burdens” as we delve into these psychological enigmas:

“In the process of exploring what seem to be your dark sides, you may also encounter something that doesn’t seem like a part. We occasionally encounter voices or images that are quite nasty, but they’re also more two-dimensional than parts. We call these things unattached burdens because they seem like internalized pieces of hatred or evil that never attached to a part—they’re more like free-floating burdens. These are what some psychodynamic systems call introjects. But again, one of the laws of inner physics is that if you’re in Self and don’t fear a part, it has no power over you. For me, there’s something spiritual about this second inner law. If Self is indeed a drop of the divine within, then it makes sense that unblended Self wouldn’t be intimidated by anything—including apparent evil—in the inner world, and instead would work forcefully (but also lovingly and effectively) to heal and transform it.”

In his book “The Others Within Us”, Robert Falconer discusses unattached burdens at length. While acknowledging that “we don’t really know what they are, and they don’t fit any accepted theories,” he proposes an excellent step-by-step process for dealing with these energies. Falconer holds that unattached burdens can serve as valuable teachers, pointing to areas where parts of us are clinging to unresolved fear and emotional pain. He emphasizes that it is unnecessary to engage in confrontational situations with these energies, such as attempting to forcefully expel them. Instead, he believes that “love itself might be enough” to separate the unattached burden from a wounded part and guide it towards healing.

According to Jungian theory, psychological disturbances can arise from being overtaken by either a “soul complex” (burdened parts) or a “spirit complex” (shadow archetypes, spirits, and daimons). Both complexes possess a high degree of autonomy and can even usurp control from the ego. The latter category, spirit complexes, are associated with unattached burdens that often take root during childhood, frequently linked to traumatic experiences. These traumatic events are thought to create an “open door” that allows these entities to enter as a means of protecting the wounded parts. In Falconer’s book, these “spirits of trauma” are said to account for 75 percent of possessions that require healing and deliverance. He advocates for the use of the term “spiritual presence experiences” as opposed to unattached burdens.

The persistence of these autonomous unattached burdens is sustained by our refusal to acknowledge and reintegrate the wounded parts into the greater whole of the Self. However, by developing greater awareness of the Self and welcoming the wounded parts that endured trauma, the conditions that allowed these unattached burdens to enter and survive within us can be removed. These external energies instil a sense of unworthiness within us, convincing our vulnerable parts that we are undeserving of Self’s love. This is how they maintain their grip, offering mere crumbs of validation as feeble gifts. However, when we recognize that the wellspring of Self’s love is boundless and sweet, that we are truly worthy of it, and that Self demands nothing in return, our wounded parts can release the meagre offerings of these burdensome energies.

Falconer observed that typically these energies accumulate in the lower abdomen, and can be expelled through forceful exhalations, coughing, and spitting out of the mouth. Other techniques like yawning, sighing, humming, hissing, burping, and moving the body have also proven useful in shamanic and yogic breathwork practices (such as kundalini breathwork and ujjayi pranayama) for releasing blockages and negative energies from the body while relaxing the nervous system. These practices promote spontaneous movements arising from the innate intelligence of our nervous system. They can lead to the release of traumatic stress, mirroring the way animals instinctively shake their bodies to discharge excessive fear and frozen states after encountering a threatening situation. Providing an outlet for the body’s natural release mechanism can alleviate residual tensions and restore equilibrium.

Falconer suggested remaining calm and allowing the client to do what feels natural, even if unconventional, reassuring them during therapeutic sessions to let their breath and body express what is needed for healing. In chapter nine we will explore the psychosomatic link between early childhood trauma and its impacts on the lower chakras around the hips and belly. Notably, Falconer states that unattached burdens are highly contagious, able to “take over whole groups, even nations. This contagion is powerful evidence for the porosity of mind.” It also suggests our inherently interconnected, nondual nature. One stark example of a contagious, unattached burden affecting an entire country was Nazi Germany.

Some typical characteristics of unattached burdens include:

• A link to addictive behaviours, narcissistic traits, and cruel or mean tendencies. The individual may have experienced childhood sexual abuse or undergone surgery with general anaesthesia, which can create openings for unattached burdens.

• A lack of positive intentions toward the individual and an overall malicious or harmful quality.

• An admission of not being a part of the individual’s psyche when questioned directly.

• A one-dimensional nature and a distinct energy that “feels foreign,” unlike the three-dimensional aliveness and traceability to personal (or ancestral) history exhibited by the individual’s core parts.

• A flat, plain appearance and presentation, with little embodiment and lack of nuanced details.

• While capable of responding to questions, they tend to provide robotic answers lacking depth, nuance, authentic understanding, or emotion.

• An antagonistic, combative demeanour atypical of the parts within the individual’s normal psyche.

Are unattached burdens (or indeed any burden) outside of nondual awareness? The nondual perspective challenges the idea that there are rigid boundaries separating different aspects of our inner and outer experiences. From this viewpoint, Self and parts are not truly separate from the outer world we share with others. Even burdens that feel unattached are seen as interconnected “parts” of a greater whole. We can envision all phenomena, including our own experiences, as interconnected points in an infinite web, like the metaphor of Indra’s net. While a particular unattached burden may not originate from the specific constellation of parts that make up each individual human, it still exists as an integral strand woven into the entire interconnected fabric of reality.

From this nondual perspective, where can we truly draw boundaries between what is “self” and what is “other”? Can anything, even what we perceive as unattached burdens, ever be fully discarded or exist outside of the totality of consciousness? While it may be possible to remove particular unattached burdens from the localized cluster of parts comprising an individual’s experience, allowing them to function more harmoniously, from the view of the whole those burdens remain part of the seamless fabric of consciousness, simply existing as other phenomena arisen within it. As Thich Nhat Hanh’s poem below suggests, all beings experience joys and sufferings as inseparable part of the same undivided consciousness. We are encouraged to acknowledge our “true names”—to open our hearts to the understanding that our individual self is never truly separate from the interconnected whole:

…The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that are alive. I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river, and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time to eat the mayfly. I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond, and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence, feeds itself on the frog. I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks, and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda… My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life. My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans. Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one. Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up, and so the door of my heart can be left open, the door of compassion.

Falconer’s work vividly illustrates a profound insight in a recounted therapeutic session, where a spirit imparts the wisdom, “You know we’re all one, don’t you?” This hints at the nondual reality that transcends our perceived separations. Importantly, not all spirits are malevolent. Falconer mentions studies which show that children with imaginary friends tend to grow up happier and more socially connected than those without. These significant results suggest that imagination is a perceptual system similar to sight or hearing, designed to help us navigate the human experience. Falconer refers to what the religious historian Egil Asprem called the realm of “intermediary beings”—beings with knowledge far beyond our own yet accessible enough for contact. This is similar to Jung’s concept of the “psychoid”—a realm betwixt the psychological and the physical. It is clear that when we accept our interconnected nature and the porosity of the mind within the nondual experience, we can see how such manifestations can have both beneficial and detrimental effects.

As you likely know, I have been commissioned to write a book on IFS and ACIM. With over ten years of studying ACIM, five years of teaching it, and my work as a Level 3 certified IFS counsellor, I’ve spent considerable time exploring where these two paths intersect. I am gradually laying down the wisdom I’ve gained, allowing Spirit to guide the process. In the meantime, while the book is still unfolding on the breath of presence, I wanted to offer this brief guide to support you now.

ACIM and IFS are ultimately oriented toward the same aim: peace, inner harmony and unconditional love. But they speak different languages. This is true of so many psycho-spiritual frameworks and sacred texts. The pointers vary vastly, but what they are pointing toward is one and the same.

It brings to mind the Buddhist teaching of the finger pointing to the moon. It’s as if ACIM points with one finger and IFS with another, yet they both direct our gaze toward the same moon. However, the Course’s direct language can feel invalidating or even threatening to our internal system. But that needn’t be so…

To bridge the gap between the two approaches, we can lean into playfulness, gentleness and a pinch of salt (or Self). Below, I offer some ideas for translating the languages of ACIM and IFS to reduce friction and deepen our practice.

Where friction commonly arises

1. The “ego” problem

This is usually the biggest sticking point.

In ACIM, the ego is described as a false thought system based on separation, fear and guilt, which needs to be forgiven and gently undone (reinterpreted) by the mind. The goal is to recognize the ego’s illusions as harmless mistakes, revealing our true nature. More playfully, it is the thought system (or the idea) we forgot to laugh at, instead we took it seriously.

In IFS, our parts (often associated with the ego) are sacred, intelligent and protective. They help us survive, are natural and valuable, and are shaped by our history. The burdens they carry, however, can block access to Self energy (the inherent, loving essence) beneath the burdens.

One way to reconcile the two perspectives is to see that when ACIM speaks of the ego, it is referring to the burdens our parts carry, not the parts themselves. The Course does not ask us to get rid of our parts, but to release the belief in separation from Self that they have been forced to carry. The Holy Spirit (Self), therefore, does not attack, shame or deny parts but rather gently unravels the burdens they carry.

2. The language of “God”

Words like ‘God’, ‘Holy Spirit’, ‘He’ and ‘Brother’ can activate parts that hold religious or spiritual trauma, sensitivity to hierarchy or patriarchy, and fear of dogma, authority or coercion.

Noticing these reactions can be genuinely useful. They often point to important protectors asking to be heard. When they are bypassed, spiritual work can slip into a form of dissociation. Taking time to acknowledge and gently unburden these parts can help the entire journey feel safer, more grounded and more spacious.

3. The language of “sin”

The word sin can be activating for many people.

In ACIM, sin does not mean moral wrongdoing or something that deserves punishment. It refers to a mistaken belief in separation, a perceptual error rather than a real transgression. The Course is clear that sin is not real in truth and has no actual effects beyond those we imagine.

In IFS terms, sin maps to the core burdens carried by parts, particularly parts that hold shame, badness or the belief that something is fundamentally wrong with them. These burdens are not evidence of failure, but adaptive responses to pain, neglect or trauma.

When ACIM says sin must be undone or forgiven, it is not calling for self-judgment. It is pointing toward the release of these burdens through gentle recognition that they were never who we truly are. Seen this way, undoing sin aligns closely with the IFS process of unburdening and restoring parts to their natural innocence.

If like me, you have etymology-loving parts, here’s a quote from Awaken to Love regarding the meaning of the sword sin:

4. Forgiveness

Forgiveness is central to ACIM and also one of the most misunderstood teachings, particularly for people with trauma histories.

In the Course, forgiveness does not mean excusing harmful behaviour, denying pain or pretending that abuse did not matter. It is a shift in perception. From the IFS perspective, parts that have been harmed may react strongly to the idea of forgiveness, especially if it sounds like a demand to forgive abusers prematurely. These parts likely carry anger, grief, terror or rage that have never been acknowledged or witnessed. Asking them to forgive too soon (or at all) can feel profoundly wrong, not because they resist healing but because they are protecting the truth of what happened.

In IFS, forgiveness cannot precede witnessing. Exiles need their pain to be seen, named and validated by Self before any release is possible. If forgiveness is required before harm is acknowledged, it becomes another form of silencing or abandonment.

When properly understood, ACIM forgiveness and IFS unburdening align beautifully. Forgiveness is not something parts are forced to do but rather what naturally arises when burdens are released and the system no longer needs blame for protection. Forgiveness happens after safety, not instead of it.

5. “This world is not real”

In the Course, “the world is not real” does not mean that our experiences, emotions or suffering are meaningless. It means that the world we perceive is shaped by the mind’s belief in separation. The world is real as an experience, but not ultimate or fixed in the way the ego believes.

For many parts (especially younger ones) this language can feel terrifying. They may hear it as “my pain doesn’t matter”, “nothing is safe” or “I might disappear.” These responses are understandable and protective.

A helpful IFS-informed translation is that the meaning we give the world is largely parts-led and always changing. Perspective (one of the Ps of Self) can help us make a healing shift towards Self-leadership. From this view, the world becomes a classroom rather than a prison, exactly as ACIM teaches. Life does not disappear but rather becomes a place where Self can meet parts from a wider perspective.

6. “I am not a body”

This statement can be deeply unsettling, particularly for parts that associate the body with survival, safety or identity. In ACIM “I am not a body” does not mean the body is bad, unreal in a dismissive sense or something to escape. The Course is pointing to a shift in identity from identifying as only the body to recognizing the body as a neutral communication device within infinite consciousness.

For traumatized parts, however, the body may be where pain was endured or stored. Hearing “I am not a body” can feel like erasure or abandonment. These reactions are wise and protective. An IFS-informed translation is: I am more than my body. The body is part of experience, not the source of identity. When Self leads, the body often becomes safer, more regulated and more alive. ACIM is not inviting disembodiment, but freedom from the belief that the body defines or limits who we are.

Get curious about which part of you is ‘doing’ the Course

What feels important to say again is that our reactions to the language can be genuinely useful. They invite curiosity toward the protectors that are asking to be heard. When these reactions are bypassed, spiritual work can become a form of dissociation. Taking some time to acknowledge and unburden these parts can help the entire journey feel safer and more spacious.

Whenever students approach me wanting to do the Course, I always ask: Which part of you had this idea and what are that part’s intentions? It is very common for protectors to try to “do” ACIM.

As you read the lessons and practice them, you’ll likely notice different parts blending with you along the way. You might recognize:

• a striving manager that tries to do the lessons perfectly without missing a day

• a skeptical protector that argues with the metaphysics or logic

• a spiritual achiever that wants the big shift or enlightenment now

• young, vulnerable parts that panic or feel confused when reading statements like “This world is not real” because their pain feels very real

None of these parts are wrong. They are doing their jobs. If you have access to an IFS therapist, you might bring whatever parts arise during the lessons into therapy and see if it’s possible to get curious about them. Ultimately, the invitation is to allow Self to lead the lessons, gently healing and unburdening parts as you go.

How to let Self lead

So, the most important thing is not to force any part to agree with the lesson. In fact, the point is that you notice where parts disagree and simply remain present and open. If the lesson says “I am not a body. I am free” and a part cries out “but I hurt!”, simply pause. Turn toward the part and, from Self-energy, say something like “I hear you. Of course this feels scary. Your pain matters. You don’t have to believe this. Let me just hold this idea gently for a moment.”

This is not a failure of the lesson or our parts but rather the work itself. In this way, ACIM lessons become a powerful form of therapy, activating parts that are asking for attention, reassurance and healing.

Terminology translation

Ego
ACIM: The thought system of separation, fear and false identity; the belief that we are separate from God (SELF) and from each other.
IFS: The burdened state of parts, operating from beliefs of separation, unworthiness or danger (not the parts themselves).

Holy Spirit
ACIM: The inner teacher and voice for God that corrects perception and gently leads the mind back to truth.
IFS: Self energy as compassionate inner guidance; the aspect of awareness that helps parts unburden without judgment.

Decision Maker
ACIM: The neutral capacity of the mind that chooses between the ego’s thought system and the Holy Spirit’s.
IFS: Self as particle has the ability to navigate the system towards wholeness, however it can also become obscured by blended burdened parts.

Miracle
ACIM: A correction in perception that shifts the mind from fear to love.
IFS: An unburdening or reorganization of the system that occurs when Self is present and parts release fear-based beliefs.

Forgiveness
ACIM: The release of judgment and misperception, allowing us to be free.
IFS: Unblending from parts and facilitating the release of the burdens they carry (e.g. blame, shame and fear).

Atonement
ACIM: The undoing of the belief in separation and the acceptance of our shared innocence.
IFS: Remembering wholeness through restored Self-leadership and an internally harmonized system.

Illusion
ACIM: Anything perceived through the wounded ego; a miscreation based on fear rather than truth.
IFS: Protective narratives and beliefs formed around trauma that once served survival but no longer reflect present reality.

Salvation
ACIM: Awakening from the dream of separation into peace, love and unity.
IFS: A Self-led internal system characterized by harmony, trust and compassion among parts.

God
ACIM: Perfect, formless Love; the Source of all.
IFS: Universal SELF or unconditional loving awareness from which individual (not separate) Self-energy arises.

Perception/Perspective
ACIM: The way the mind interprets experience; either ego-based or Spirit-corrected.
IFS: The lens through which parts experience reality; when burdened, perception is fear-based, and when Self-led, it is spacious and clear.

Mind
ACIM: The level of awareness where choice, perception and awakening occur.
IFS: The entire internal system (parts, Self and the field of awareness in which they arise).

Sin
ACIM: A mistaken belief in separation, not a real transgression or moral failure.
IFS: Core burdens of shame, unworthiness or badness carried by parts.

Son (Son of God)
ACIM: Our true identity, eternally innocent and united with God.
IFS: The Self (wholeness beneath all parts).

Will
ACIM: The natural extension of God’s love; always aligned with truth.
IFS: The inherent movement of Self toward healing, coherence and connection when not obscured by burdened parts.

World
ACIM: A projection of the mind’s thought system; a classroom for forgiveness rather than ultimate reality.
IFS: The appearance of the external world as filtered through the internal system, experienced either as a prison when led by burdened parts, or as a classroom when led by Self (the “happy dream”).

Holy instant
ACIM: A moment outside time in which the mind chooses love instead of fear.
IFS: A present-moment experience of unblending, where Self is fully here and parts relax.

Christ
ACIM: The true Self, unchanged by the dream of separation and forever loving.
IFS: Self-leadership fully aligned with compassion, clarity and connection, etc.

IFS-informed ACIM practice

Here is a simple protocol for your morning or evening lessons to invite Self presence and awareness of parts.

1. Notice Before reading the lesson/text ask internally: “Who is here right now? Is any part resistant, scared, bored or striving?”

2. Validate Speak to the part: “It makes sense that you feel this way. This lesson challenges how you’ve kept me safe.”

3. Unblend Gently ask the part to step back just a little so Self can experiment with the lesson (remember playfulness and curiosity are qualities of Self).

4. Reassure Remind them: “This is mind training, not immediate behaviour modification. Nothing needs to change today. We are just practicing a new way of seeing.”

I like to think of IFS as preparing the soil so the seeds of the Course (unconditional love and non-separation) can take root with presence and compassion towards any activated or defensive parts. Rather than bypassing pain, fear or resistance, we allow them to be met, included and if possible unburdened. This way of working actually makes the Course gentler, safer and infinitely more embodied.

The metaphysics of ACIM (based on Kenneth Wapnick)

Ken Wapnick’s chart describes a mind that believes it’s separated from Source (love). This belief organizes the inner system around fear, resulting in a fearful experience of the world. In IFS language, this would be described as a protector-led system. Healing, therefore, is an inward journey rather than an attempt to fix the external world. It occurs at the level of choice, when Self becomes available and parts are no longer forced to carry the burden of keeping us safe on their own. ACIM calls this choosing the Holy Spirit; IFS calls it Self-leadership. In IFS, the lead trainer Cece Sykes also names Choice as the 9th C quality of Self. This capacity to choose closely parallels Kenneth Wapnick’s concept of the Decision Maker. In this way, both ACIM and IFS aim to restore our ability to choose between old patterns rooted in fear and new responses aligned with our inner wholeness. Inner wholeness is not the same as perfection, perfectionism is often a trauma response. The “real world” or “happy dream” is not a perfect life, but a nervous system and inner family that no longer believes it is alone. From there, perception softens, forgiveness becomes possible and life becomes a classroom rather than a prison.

Through the lens of ACIM, essentially there is one mind. From it arises a belief in separation (ego), which produces a fearful inner system and a perceived world. Healing happens when Holy Spirit (Self) gently re-leads the system back into wholeness.

Broadly, the Course refers to three ‘levels’. There is no actual separation between them, but they appear distinct.

Level 1: The Source/Truth

ACIM: Heaven, Knowledge, God, Christ, Oneness, Love, Changelessness

IFS: Universal SELF, pure awareness, innate wholeness before fragmentation, the system before it ever had to organize for survival. This level is what Self already is and each part (even burdened parts) already have Self energy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The tiny mad idea (the pivot point)

ACIM: “The tiny mad idea”, the thought of separation, the split mind

IFS: The original rupture/misattunement, the moment the system believes in shame and worthlessness

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Level 2: The split mind (choice point)

- The Decision Maker (centre)

ACIM: Son of God as decision maker, chooses between ego or Holy Spirit

IFS: The Self (the Seat of Consciousness, “I”), observing and choosing presence, deciding how to respond when parts begin to blend, and redirecting toward harmony. If parts completely obscure the Self, experience becomes protector-led

This is where both therapy and ACIM actually operate. It is the realm of psychology, awareness and conscious choice.

- Left side: Ego (‘wrong mind’)

ACIM: Ego, projection, victimization, scarcity, “Ideas leave their source”

IFS: Burdened parts leading the system, protectors polarized and extreme, exiles carrying shame, fear, unworthiness, projection (parts externalizing threat), inner battlefield between parts (polarization), survival logic dominating, system organized around fear

- Right side: Holy Spirit (‘right mind’)

ACIM: Atonement, forgiveness, holy instant, real world, happy dream

IFS: Self-energy present, parts unblending, burdens releasing, system reorganizing around trust, compassion replacing control, increased harmony and flexibility, Self-led system

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Level 3: The world of form, perception and experience

ACIM: World of separation, time and space, body, problems and solutions, prison or classroom

IFS: External life reflecting the internal system, trauma reenactments or healing contexts, body as a messenger, not the enemy, life as either threat or opportunity depending on leadership (burdened parts versus Self)

This world is the result of the choice made in Level 2, leading to two apparent paths: Path A is the ego’s battlefield, path B is Holy Spirit’s classroom.

If your parts are finding all of this a little confusing or dense, the map below simplifies things further. The key point is Choice (Decision Maker). This is the observer (particle Self in IFS) that can guide the system toward Self-led wholeness or become obscured through blending with burdened parts, resulting in protector-led experiences.

I sincerely hope you found this post useful. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to leave them in the comments or email me. I wish you a most joyous and heart-opening ACIM/IFS journey.

If you feel called to support this work, you are invited to contribute to my GoFundMe page. Your donation acts as a bridge to sustain this spiritual offering. Please consider sharing this campaign - every gift extends peace, and in truth, the giver and receiver are one.

Namaste 🙏

Following an initial spark of calcium, a wave of signalling proteins sweeps across the egg, moving in an organized, rhythmic spiral (as shown below).

This protein wave activates metabolism, initiates DNA replication and coordinates the first steps of development. It is not diffuse. It is not chaotic. It is coherent, directional and repeatable.

The signal behaves less like a random chemical reaction and more like a system coming online. A coordinated ignition. A biological “yes”. Researchers describe these activation waves as structured and lawful, governed by the same dynamics seen throughout nature (e.g. oscillations and self-organizing patterns) which suggests that organization precedes the thinking mind.

Order exists before the brain, before the nervous system, before any structure capable of human cognition. The instructions for building complexity are not just chemical; they are embedded in the eternal void - the face before you were born.

The ancient rhyme…

If that spinning visual triggered a sense of déjà vu, you aren't alone. Those spiral waves curling around a spherical centre are nearly identical to the Triskele (or Triple Spiral), the ancient symbol carved into the stones of Newgrange (Ireland) over 5,000 years ago.

Ancient cultures intuitively recognized the spiral as the shape of energy and growth, carving symbols like the Triskele to depict the cycles of birth. It is a profound historical rhyme that their symbol for life’s origin perfectly mirrors the biological event that actually starts it: the spiral protein wave across a fertilized egg. They illustrated a microscopic mechanism they could never have seen, yet somehow sensed.

Science labels this phenomenon ‘egg activation,’ but the visual similarity invites a deeper reflection. It suggests that the beginning of life is not a chaotic collision, but a synchronization. Not noise, but signal. Not randomness, but resonance.

If the initial spark of growth is spiral, could it be that psychological healing also begins and continues this way?

We often imagine healing as a straight path: insight leads to relief, relief leads to change and change leads to resolution. But lived experience tells a different story. Healing is not linear progress, it’s a self-organizing, patterned rhythm of coming alive, integrating parts and generating coherence within the internal system.

Just as proteins propagate waves across an egg’s surface to organize cell division, healing happens in oscillating cycles:

• We activate awareness (like the activated proteins)

• Awareness spreads (sometimes gently, sometimes in spirals or twists)

• Emotions that were dormant begin to move and integrate

Particle and wave…

The Internal Family Systems (IFS) model describes the psychological dimension of consciousness through a similar lens. In this view, our inner world is composed of a Self (which manifests as both particle and wave) and a system of parts.

In our internal family, parts behave like discrete entities. They have edges, they are specific, localized and acquire burdens shaped by history. They show up in particular places in the body (a tight chest, a clenched stomach), in specific moments, with identifiable voices and intentions. They collide, cluster, protect and sometimes fragment. Much of therapeutic work focuses on meeting these distinct parts with care.

Self, however, operates differently. While its embodied qualities (presence, curiosity, compassion, calm, clarity, etc) can feel distinct, pure Self is a wave.

Self is not an object inside the system; it is the field of awareness itself. When Self is present, it does not push or direct. It permeates. It moves through the system the way a wave moves through water: touching everything without needing to become any one thing.

In the MIT study, the spiral waves didn’t instruct the cell what to do; they created the conditions for orientation. Self functions in the psyche in the same way.

When awareness is absent, parts behave defensively - rigid, reactive, isolated. When awareness arrives, something shifts even before any insight or intervention occurs. The wave of presence softens boundaries. Protectors relax. Exiles become more accessible. Nothing is forced to change, yet everything becomes more changeable.

This is why healing often begins not with doing but with being.

Collision, dissipation and coherence…

In the MIT study, spiral waves sometimes collided and dissipated. They didn’t vanish randomly; they interacted based on physical rules to help the system find its centre.

In healing, we see the exact same pattern:

• Old fears surface and collide with new beliefs

• Parts resist each other

• Sometimes an emotional wave hits hard and then dissolves

These “collisions” aren’t failures, they are self-organizing processes guiding the system toward balance. When parts are allowed to meet rather than suppress one another, integration becomes possible.

As Pema Chödrön writes in When Things Fall Apart:

This is the biology of the egg and the biology of the soul. The collisions, the breaking apart, the dissolving are not errors in the system. They are the mechanism through which the system finds its new shape.

From this perspective, healing is a dual process. Self as particle holds a clear intention and direction toward healing; it knows where to go. Self as wave, however, reveals that presence is the intervention. Healing is simply what happens when the system is held in that coherent field long enough to reorganize itself.

The biological “yes”…

The researchers at MIT saw that life begins when a system finds its rhythm. The calcium wave signals to the egg that it is safe to begin dividing, to begin growing, to begin becoming.

A biological yes becomes a psychological yes. A cellular awakening becomes an inner one.

Healing does not begin when pain is removed. It begins when awareness is present enough to hold pain without fragmentation. It begins with a quiet ignition. A moment when the internal system senses safety. When information can move. When energy flows instead of freezes.

And in both cases, the message is the same: The system already knows how to grow. It only needs the signal that it is safe to begin.

Namaste 🌱

We have arrived at the turning of the wheel. The Winter Solstice is here (in the northern hemisphere), bringing with it the longest night of the year.

Our modern culture seems focused on an eternal summer with constant growth, productivity and the bright lights of performance. Against this backdrop, this season can feel counter-intuitive. We are often urged to just ‘get through’ winter, to endure the cold until the sun returns. But as I sit with the changing light, I realise that winter is not a waiting room, nor a pause button. It feels to be a profound and necessary act of creation.

I wrote this poem as a reminder to myself, and to all of you who do the heavy lifting of the heart, that we cannot bloom all year round. We are nature, too. And like the seed, we require the dark.

My wish for you this holiday season is not just for joy, but for rest. Real, deep, unapologetic rest.

I hope you find the courage to step away from the performance of life and sink into the “dark soil of the soul.” I hope you give yourself permission to listen to the dreams that only speak when the noise of the world quiets down.

May you honour your own winter. May you trust that whatever is going underground right now (be that your energy, your ideas, your hopes), is not being buried but planted.

Thank you for walking this path with me this year.

Namaste.

P.S. If you are that way inclined, I am hearing through the grapevine that 2025 has been a year of completion. The maths seems to show it: 2+0+2+5=9, and in numerology, 9 is the number of endings, transitions and closing chapters (apparently!).

If this year felt like a long process of release, we have been traveling through the Chinese Year of the snake. The snake invites us to shed outgrown patterns (and people) that no longer serve our evolution. But take heart. Come February 2026, the energy shifts. We enter the year of the Fire Horse.

While the snake is about introspection and shedding, the horse symbolises vitality and perseverance. And this is not just any horse, it is the Fire Horse (last seen in 1966), representing dynamic leadership and passion. If 2025 was for shedding, 2026 is for igniting. You are getting your power back.

To honour the shadow work before the light returns, I would like to share an old charcoal and white chalk study of mine. I love working on dark paper, feels like pulling light out of the void (a fitting meditation for this time of year).

Particularly if you are in the Northern Hemisphere (where the winter dark has set in) or living in a culture that places a heavy weight on the holidays, the atmosphere becomes charged. We are bombarded with a very specific, curated performance of joy, such as images of happy, unbroken families gathered around a dinner table, or relentless loops of festive music, or television adverts promising a perfection that rarely exists in reality. It is enough to turn even the most avid Christmas lover into moments of Grinch-like resistance.

If you have just lost a relationship or a friendship, are navigating the first (or tenth) season without a family member, or are experiencing family estrangement (whether for your own healing or due to a lack of understanding), the contrast of the season is blinding. But equally painful is the silent grief without a discernible loss or death. This is the mourning for the life you hoped you would have by now, or the family dynamic you deserved but never received. Christmas acts as a magnifying glass; it tends to make what is missing feel larger than life.

While you may be familiar with the common definitions of loss shown in the graphic below, the true territory of grief extends much further. For me, as a grief doula, looking at this season reminds me that grief is never just a category or a static label. It is a living landscape.

We often talk about grief as a noun, something we have or a process we complete. But I see grief as a verb. It is a wild, alive landscape, as broad as the Milky Way and as unpredictable as a shifting tide. It is terrain that must be traversed, not a problem to be solved. I’ve come to realize that the pain of loss isn’t the opposite of love; it is actually the evidence of it. When we lose someone, all that affection we still want to give them gets trapped inside us, turning into tears and heartache simply because it has nowhere else to land. The intensity of this sorrow is just a reflection of the intensity of the connection we shared. Ultimately, hurting this much is the trade-off for loving that deeply, and this grief is just the way my love continues to exist without them here.

The etymology of the word ‘grief’ traces back to the Old French grever, and further back to the Latin gravis, meaning ‘heavy.’ This is the very same root that gives us the word ‘gravity.’ And isn’t that the truest definition? It is the heaviness we carry. But that weight isn’t always shaped like a tombstone. Grief is not just a feeling of sadness; it is a force. Just as physical gravity pulls objects downward, grief is an emotional gravity that pulls at the spirit. It is the weight of the love you are carrying. It invites us to get low, to be close to the ground and held by the earth, just as oak trees in a windswept place grow squat and wide, hugging the soil for safety.

While the standard definitions offer a starting point, the actual territory of grief is vast and largely unmapped. Many of us walk these landscapes alone simply because they are rarely spoken about aloud. As hinted at earlier, this silence often hides a very common form of mourning: the grief for the unlived life. This includes mourning for the life you lost, or the person you might have been if not for a certain event, trauma, or the family system you grew up in. It is mourning the safety that was never provided, or the version of yourself that had to disappear to survive. This grief is valid, and it is profound.

Beyond this, here are other forms of grief I have encountered in my research and practice that live in the shadows:

Complicated/prolonged/complex grief

This is a clinically recognized condition, but the label can feel pathologizing. It simply means the grief remains intense, disruptive, or stuck for a long time. It doesn’t mean you are grieving wrong; it means the loss created a deep wound that requires more support, more time and perhaps a different kind of tending to integrate.

This form of grief may sometimes show up as ambivalent grief. This arises when grieving a parent or partner who was abusive, or a relationship that was significant but difficult. It creates a confusing emotional landscape where you may feel relief that they are gone, yet simultaneously feel a sense of loss. You may find parts of yourself judging you for missing them, or conversely, for feeling glad they are gone. This internal conflict makes the grief harder to process because the brain cannot settle on a single, simple narrative of sadness.

Ambivalent grief can also arise after the loss of a non-traditional attachment, such as a deeply meaningful relationship with an AI or digital companion, where the emotional bond was real but socially unrecognized.

Disenfranchised grief

This is grief that is not acknowledged, validated or publicly supported by society. Because the relationship or the loss isn’t recognized by others, the griever is denied the “right” to mourn. This may occur after losing a partner you were having an affair with, an ex-spouse, or a relationship that was never “official.” It also includes the loss of a public figure or celebrity who was a significant touchstone for your identity, even if they were a questionable or complicated figure. Because you cannot mourn openly (receiving no cards, no time off work and no public sympathy) , the grief turns inward. It becomes a silent, lonely weight because the world acts as if nothing happened, while your internal world has collapsed.

Disenfranchised grief also includes mourning ecological collapse, climate change and the anticipated loss of future worlds.

Multifaceted grief (whole-system grief)

This is an experience of multiple forms of grief striking at once, e.g. an overlap of anticipatory, collective and traumatic grief. It affects the entire body, mind, nervous system and wider ecosystem of your life. Some describe it as “whole-system grief,” where the loss dismantles identity, relationships, meaning and your fundamental worldview all at once.

Soul grief

This is a grief that strikes at the very root of your being. It refers to a loss that affects:

• Your core identity

• Your sense of purpose

• Your connection to meaning or your inner life

• The feeling of being “unanchored” in existence

Soul grief often emerges after profound losses (e.g. a child, a parent, a foundational partner), or even the loss of a version of oneself. It leaves you feeling existentially altered.

Past-life grief

This is often described as a sense of old sadness with no clear origin in your current biography. It presents as emotional wounds that feel “older” than you are. Whether viewed through a spiritual lens or a psychological one (as ancestral trauma or deep attachment wounds), these are feelings of grief that emerge during deep spiritual work, meditation, regression, or psychedelic experiences, and feel ancient and heavy.

Stunted/inaccessible grief

This is grief that cannot be consciously reached, often stemming from early childhood losses where the griever did not yet have the tools to process the event. It takes several forms:

• Inhibited grief: Emotion is blocked because the child lacked the developmental capacity to feel, name or process it.

• Dissociated grief: The grief is stored in the nervous system but is cut off from conscious memory (common in pre-verbal trauma or neglect before age 4-5).

• Misplaced grief: Because the original loss is unreachable, the pain leaks out as anger, anxiety, perfectionism, numbness or uncontrollable tears (often triggered by seemingly unrelated events like watching a film or the loss of a pet decades later).

• Attachment-based grief: For those who lost a primary caregiver very young, this manifests as a persistent inner emptiness, a lack of emotional “roots” or a chasm where connection should be.

Frozen/dormant grief

Similar to delayed grief but deeper, this describes grief that lies in hibernation for years. It often thaws suddenly later in life, triggered by a new, seemingly unrelated loss, a life transition or simply developing the emotional capacity to finally feel it.

Neurodivergent grief

We rarely discuss how neurotypes shape loss. Neurodivergent grief describes the unique interplay between sensory processing, emotional regulation and loss.

• Delayed processing: Emotions may surface months later, often suddenly.

• Sensory grief: The stress of grief causes sensory shutdowns, physical overwhelm or withdrawal.

• Executive dysfunction: The “fog” of grief hits daily routines, memory and self-care harder.

• Hyperfocus: A fixation on specific details, rituals or aspects of the loss.

• Identity grief: Mourning the years spent masking or the misunderstood childhood experience.

How to work with our grief parts (remember it’s a landscape, a verb, not a noun)…

When we look at the list above, it can feel overwhelming. It is easy to feel like we are the grief.

But in my work, I often lean on the concept of parts work (Internal Family Systems). The premise is simple: we are not a monolith. We are a multiplicity. When we say, “I am grieving,” it often feels like the grief has swallowed us whole. But if we are able to shift the lens ever so slightly by using parts language, such as “A part of me is grieving”, we may begin to create a little distance.

This shift creates a tiny wedge of space between you (the Self) and the intensity of the feeling. Especially during the holidays, you might notice different parts warring inside you: the part that wants to hide under the duvet, the part that feels obligated to cook the dinner and the part that is screaming in pain.

Here are four practical ways to work with these parts this season:

1. Change your language (unblending)

The most powerful tool is grammar. Try to catch yourself saying, “I am sad” or “I am angry.” Instead, try saying:

• “I notice a part of me is feeling incredibly heavy right now”

• “I feel a part of me that is angry that the world is celebrating while I am hurting”

• “I feel a part of me that wants to pretend everything is normal”

This is called “unblending.” It validates the feeling without letting it hijack your entire nervous system. It reminds you that there is a “You” that is big enough to witness the grief, rather than being drowned by it.

2. Befriend the protector parts

Grief is rarely just sadness. Often, we have protector parts that step in to stop us from feeling the raw pain.

• The manager: This is the part of us that obsesses over gift lists, cleaning or keeping busy to avoid stillness.

• The numbing part (usually firefighter): This is the part of us that reaches for the extra glass of wine, scrolls social media for hours or dissociates (checks out) during family gatherings.

Instead of judging these behaviours (e.g. “Why am I procrastinating?”, “Why am I so checked out?”), could you find gratitude for these parts’ hard work? You could say internally: “I see you trying to protect me from this pain. Thank you for working so hard.” When we stop fighting our coping mechanisms, the internal war may soften a little, often making it safe enough for the actual grief to surface gently, but only when there is space for it. Sometimes, it is wisest to simply wait until you have the support you need (like a therapy session) rather than trying to process it all around the dinner table.

3. The dual awareness at the dinner table

The holidays often demand that we “put on a face.” This can feel like a betrayal of our grief. Try practicing dual awareness. This is the capacity to hold two truths at once. You can sit at the holiday table and internally say: “I am physically here eating this meal, AND a part of me is far away grieving what I have lost.” You don’t have to choose between being present and being heartbroken. You can let the grief part sit in the chair next to you. It is allowed to be there.

4. Scheduled “grief dates”

If you are terrified that your grief parts will explode at the wrong moment (like during a toast or gift opening), negotiate with them. Tell your grief part: “I know you are hurting. I can’t fully dive into this right now because I have guests but I promise I will give you 20 minutes at 4pm.” Then, keep that promise. Go to a quiet room, light a candle, look at a photo or just cry. By giving the grief a specific container, the part often feels heard and is less likely to flood you unexpectedly.

The takeaway:

If you see yourself in these descriptions this holiday season, know that your terrain is valid. Whether your grief is ancient, frozen, sensory or for a life that never happened, it is real. You do not need to fit your pain into a neat slice of a pie chart. You can begin by witnessing it, naming it and gently learning to carry it.

Protectors-in-exile are parts that began as standard protectors. They are often powerful, intense or impulsive. Unlike young exiles, they do not carry primary vulnerability. Instead, they carry strong impulses or energies such as anger, sexuality, boldness, rebellion or cunning. In childhood, these parts likely stepped in to help you survive. They might have been the part of you that stood up to a bully, the part that distracted you from pain, the part that sensed danger before anyone else, or the part that found creative ways to cope with a chaotic home environment. Sometimes they adopt the traits, strategies or emotional tones of harmful figures in a person’s life. In psychodynamic language, this can resemble an introject. They may attack you internally before anyone else can. They learn that power, aggression, harshness, shaming or emotional shutdown equals safety. In this way, they can even resemble what IFS calls unattached burdens (more on this here).

Because of their intensity, boldness or aggression, family members and peers often reacted strongly to them. These parts may have been punished for their anger, shamed for their desire, scolded for their boldness or labeled manipulative for their resourcefulness. The message received was that these powerful protective instincts were bad. As a result, your manager parts (the parts of you dedicated to being good, socially acceptable and controlled) locked these protectors away (or tried to at least). They did this to keep you safe from external judgment and to prevent the fear that these parts might get you hurt, hurt others or be rejected again. Yet, as noted earlier, this “locking away” is rarely successful. Their energy often breaks through - sometimes explosively, sometimes subtly.

Because they have been pushed down for so long, you likely experience protectors-in-exile as frightening or dangerous. They can feel like forces inside you that you must control at all costs. They might feel like a rage that could explode, a desire that feels insatiable, a rebelliousness that threatens your stability or an impulse to take risks that seems reckless. The system learns to fear them and this fear wraps them in shame, distortion and misunderstanding.

Protectors-in-exile do not freeze (unlike vulnerable exiles), they fester. Furious at being rejected by the outer family and locked away by the internal family (usually manager parts), they wield an adult-like strength introjected from external abusers. While imprisoned in the shadowy places of the psyche, they continue to shape-shift and evolve, accruing strength, ammunition and wilderness. If you imagine a dog locked in a basement for ten years, you know that when you open the door, the animal will likely be snarling, dirty and aggressive. It looks like a beast. But it is actually just a neglected animal. This passage from No Bad Parts conveys it well:

The distorted mirror

One of the most difficult aspects of identifying these parts is that they often look frightening to the conscious mind. Because they have been suppressed in the dark, they take on distorted, heavy or aggressive forms.

When you look inside, you might not see a helper (a nice knight in shining armour). Instead, you might see a dormant volcano waiting to erupt, a swirling black tornado or hurricane, a ticking time bomb with complex wiring, a massive tidal wave frozen just before it crashes, a ball of fire or a burning coal in the pit of the stomach, a high-voltage electrical box that sparks when you get close, or a black hole that threatens to suck everything in.

Sometimes they appear as beasts or creatures, representing natural instincts that were shamed. You might encounter a rabid dog chained to a wall foaming at the mouth, a dragon sleeping on a pile of gold in a dark cave, a wolf with bared teeth pacing in a cage, a large snake coiled tightly around a treasure or a weapon, a panther stalking in the shadows, a spider weaving a complex web to catch enemies, or a wounded bear that roars when anyone gets too close.

At other times, if you have internalized a moral judgment that you are bad, these parts might present as villains. You may see a demon or devil figure with glowing eyes, a prisoner in a straightjacket or heavy chains in a dungeon, a dark hooded figure like the grim reaper, a cold-blooded assassin or mercenary cleaning a weapon, a vandal or punk rocker smashing windows, a rigid terrifying authoritarian soldier or dictator, or a witch or sorceress casting spells.

If the part was treated with disgust, it might appear as a goblin or gremlin hiding under the floorboards, a leper or contagious figure living in the sewers, a distorted shadowy ghost that has no face, a gargoyle made of stone that cannot move, or a pile of sludge or toxic waste. Or if it had to shut off emotion to survive, it might look like a robot or cyborg with no heart, an alien with no mouth, a surveillance camera or computer system, or a block of ice or a stone wall.

It is crucial to understand that this scary imagery is symbolic, not literal. The more horrifying the image, the more desperate the protection usually is. To illustrate this, consider a theoretical scenario involving a devoted mother who encounters a protector-in-exile presenting as a large, terrifying wolf. To her absolute horror, this wolf expresses a visceral impulse to eat her children (not the inner children, her actual children). Her manager parts would be understandably terrified by this, viewing it as proof that she is a monster or unsafe to be a parent. The shame she feels would be paralyzing.

But in IFS, we know that every part has a positive intent. If we were to ask this wolf part to unblend and approach it with curiosity, the truth would likely be heartbreakingly logical. If the mother is completely depleted, giving every ounce of herself to her family with no boundaries, no rest and no self-care, the wolf is not malicious. It is a fierce, primitive protector of her resources.

It uses the imagery of eating the children not because it wants them dead, but because it is desperate to reclaim the energy and life force she has given away to them. It is essentially saying, I must consume or I will be consumed. Once the mother establishes boundaries and begins protecting her own energy, the wolf transforms. It stops wanting to devour the children and becomes a noble guardian of her time, helping her say no without guilt.

The jailbreak effect

This highlights what I call the jailbreak effect. When you approach a regular exile, your heart usually breaks for them. However, when you approach a protector-in-exile, you might feel repulsion or terror, especially if you or your therapist are blended with another part.

This is why it is vital that the therapist is thoroughly steeped in Self energy when working with these parts. Therapists may occasionally feel frightened when a client shares these disturbing images. In such moments, it is essential to pause the work, recenter and be transparent about the process. A therapist might say: ‘I am just going to take a moment to access more Self energy inside me.’ (Ideally, the therapist will have already informed the client during intake that this centering pause may happen). This practice rests on a foundational law of inner physics in IFS: nothing can hurt you when you are in Self. Therefore, therapists must absolutely only attempt to hold space for clients if they are themselves steeped in Self. (See image below from No Bad Parts about laws of inner physics).

To a manager part, a protector-in-exile is the ultimate nightmare because they represent a loss of control. Managers fear that if this part gets out, you will become the monster you were accused of being as a child. However, while protectors-in-exile feel the most threatening to your daily life, firefighters are usually the ones who take the most dangerous actions, such as addiction or self-harm, and exiles hold the most overwhelming emotional pain. The protectors-in-exile simply hold the title of scariest part because they feel like a constant, lurking pressure that is antithetical to who you try to be.

Somatic connection

There is also a strong biological component to this dynamic. In somatic therapies, trauma is viewed as unfinished business in the nervous system. A protector-in-exile is often a thwarted fight response. If you wanted to scream at a parent or run away as a child but were forced to freeze and be compliant, that massive kinetic energy did not disappear. It got trapped in your body. Today, that energy feels explosive because it is literally high-voltage survival energy waiting to complete its cycle.

Working with protectors-in-exile

Healing these parts follows the standard IFS protocol, just with additional Self energy. It’s essential to first work with the manager parts that fear them. Take time to validate the managers’ concerns that the protector-in-exile is dangerous or too much. The aim is to negotiate permission to speak with these parts without letting them overwhelm or influence your behaviour. Reassure the managers that you are there only to witness and befriend the part, not to act out its impulses. Spend here as long as required and watch for urgency to fix things. Slow down as necessary.

Once you have their permission, approach the protector-in-exile with the calm curiosity of Self. This is crucial because these parts often expect judgment. Pause as frequently as possible, continue checking your access to Self energy and go super slowly. When given space, listen to their story. They will often reveal that they never intended harm, they were doing their best to protect you when no one else could. As you do this, you’ll likely notice that the scary image they presented with starts to change.

Acknowledge that they were treated unfairly, and offer an apology for the times you or your system pushed them away. Let them explain what they were trying to protect you from, e.g. loneliness, danger, humiliation, abandonment or something else (this usually points to the exile they protect).

These parts likely carry burdens and thwarted fight energy, which the part may need to release in a safe way (unburdening), often through visualization or somatic movement, allowing the incomplete survival cycle to finish.

The beautiful twist of this work is that despite being the scary parts at first glance, protectors-in-exile are often the easiest to transform. They do not actually want to hurt you. They have a job description. They are only 'monsters' because they have not been allowed to shine in their natural, unique ways. Once they are welcomed back and no longer treated as dangerous, that scary energy converts into vital energy. They transform from saboteurs into power sources. The wolf becomes a guardian, the fire becomes passion and the prisoner becomes freedom.

Nonduality is the Knowing that beneath every experience we are already One. Already whole. Already held in the infinite field of awareness. And if this is true for you, then even the most painful or chaotic aspects of our lives are not signs of failure or deficiency. They are misread signals, misunderstood gold.

When we allow the truth of our shared essence to come all the way in, something shifts. We remember that consciousness itself is wildly creative. It expresses through contrast, texture and uniqueness. The so-called shadow isn’t an obstacle, it’s the raw material through which creativity, compassion and embodiment emerge.

It’s the spice that makes awakening human.

The parts of ourselves we try hardest to hide often hold the greatest capacity for connection, empathy and originality. Your grief sharpens your tenderness. Your fear deepens your courage. Your confusion ripens your wisdom. This is the alchemy of being human, nothing is wasted and nothing is wrong.

Of course, understanding this and living it are two different things.
If you are moving through your own dark night of the soul, the last thing you need is a spiritual bypass or a tidy aphorism. You need warmth. You need presence. You need reminders that you are not alone and that what you’re experiencing is not a detour, it’s part of the path.

Lean into presence.
Lean into community.
Lean into anyone and anything that helps you remember your inherent goodness when your own mind forgets.

No one gets through the dark night by thinking their way out. We are carried through by connection, by being met, seen and held until the storm passes and clarity returns.

At The Monastery, every person who walks through the door is held in unconditional love and presence. There is no fixing here, no pressure to be anything other than what you are in this moment. We meet the shadow without fear, without trying to improve it, because we know its secret: there is gold here.

And when people feel safe enough to stop fighting their inner weather, something remarkable happens. The shadow softens. The heart opens. The gold becomes visible, sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once.

You are already gold

If you take nothing else from this, let it be this:

You are not becoming gold.
You are remembering that you are gold.

Even now.
Even in the confusion.
Even in the dark night.
Even in the parts of yourself you’re still learning to accept.

Nonduality isn’t a philosophy to adopt. It’s a homecoming, a gentle turning toward what has always been true.

And every shadow is a doorway.

Namaste 🙏

Summary

This report provides a clinical and methodological analysis of The Cut’s article on Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy and the Castlewood Treatment Centre controversy. The article presents IFS and its founder, Richard Schwartz, Ph.D., as dangerous and pseudoscientific, a thesis that rests on both factual and methodological failures, compounded by clear patterns of journalistic bias and sensationalism across several key themes:

1. Factual conflation and misrepresentation

The article engages in a misleading conflation of two distinct figures, merging the identities and actions of Mark Schwartz, Sc.D., the former clinical co-director of Castlewood Treatment Centre who was sued for malpractice related to recovered memory implantation¹, and Richard “Dick” C. Schwartz, Ph.D., the founder of the IFS model². By attributing Mark Schwartz’s directive and discredited practices to IFS and its founder, the article fundamentally misrepresents the model itself. This conflation not only distorts the factual record but also exemplifies a recurring journalistic pattern through using proximity and association to construct guilt where none exists.

2. Sensationalism and scapegoating

Therapists and professional commentators have described The Cut’s article as a “clickbait hit piece,” likened to “yellow journalism” rather than objective reporting. It employs dramatic rhetoric, invoking parallels to cults, recovered memory scandals and past therapy panics³, effectively portraying IFS as a modern incarnation of these discredited practices. Such framing provokes moral outrage rather than informed understanding, prioritizing emotional reaction over accuracy and balance.

3. Selective testimony and narrative framing

The article presents survivor narratives, most notably Elizabeth’s case, almost exclusively through the lens of the accused father. This framing marginalizes the voice of Elizabeth (a pseudonym), who recovered memories of sexual abuse that she continues to stand by (with the support of her mother). Regardless of the ultimate legal findings or the veracity of her memories, Elizabeth was a patient subjected to documented malpractice at Castlewood. By sidelining her perspective, the reporting echoes broader societal patterns of silencing survivors and reinforces harmful power dynamics that risk retraumatizing victims, including readers with lived experience of abuse who may find such framing distressing or invalidating.

4. Pseudoscience narrative and evidence dismissal

The article dismisses IFS as “pseudoscientific” by contrasting it with more established, symptom-management models, without acknowledging the legitimacy of depth-oriented trauma therapies or the complexities of psychotherapy research. It also ignores emerging empirical support for IFS, including its previous SAMHSA recognition as an evidence-based modality^4,5, and overlooks well-documented funding and publication biases that skew comparisons between psychotherapy and pharmaceutical studies^6,7.

5. Ad hominem framing and character undermining

The article undermines Richard Schwartz’s credibility through insinuation rather than evidence, emphasizing personal details (e.g., spirituality) and associations over clinical substance. It extends this tactic by citing figures such as Bessel van der Kolk, Gabor Maté and Thomas Hübl to suggest that IFS’s legitimacy depends on “questionable” allies rather than its own merits. References to their past affiliations or credentials, coupled with mocking language such as “celebrity acolytes” and “flattering endorsements” portray IFS’s rise as a fleeting, celebrity-driven trend rather than a legitimate clinical approach. This reflects a broader tension between established academic gatekeepers and emerging experiential therapies that challenge traditional hierarchies in mental health⁸. Such portrayals help preserve professional orthodoxy by dismissing innovation as unserious, regardless of growing empirical support or demonstrated clinical value. This rhetorical approach diverts attention from the model’s substance and may also deter clinicians and advocates from openly supporting IFS.

6. Failure of clinical context and ethical reporting

Beyond factual and rhetorical issues, the article demonstrates a lack of clinical understanding. It conflates trauma-healing and symptom-management paradigms, applies inconsistent methodological standards, and fails to convey the principles of non-pathologizing, non-directive therapeutic work that define IFS. Ethically, it fails in its duty to report responsibly on sensitive mental health issues, prioritizing provocation over trauma-informed sensitivity.

Ultimately, The Cut’s article attempts to do too much and achieves none of its aims. If its goal was to critique IFS on scientific grounds, it fails methodologically. If it sought to investigate cult-like practices, it fails journalistically. If it aimed to model trauma-informed reporting, it fails ethically. What it does succeed in producing is sensationalized, emotionally charged content that amplifies fear and controversy, advancing the author’s visibility rather than contributing to informed public discourse. This outcome underscores the central ethical concern of this analysis: that complex, sensitive clinical subjects were reduced to provocative soundbites at the expense of accuracy, compassion and public trust.

Introduction

Before examining the article in detail, it’s important to note that while IFS can be a powerful therapeutic approach for many, it is not suitable for all individuals or clinical contexts. Additional clinical considerations arise when working with highly dissociative or acutely unstable clients^{9, 10}. Furthermore, it may not be the treatment of choice for short-term interventions with hospitalized patients, for those lacking adequate follow-up and containment, or in situations where stabilization-focused therapies are more appropriate¹¹. These considerations warrant careful professional oversight and continued study, yet they remain distinct from the article’s flawed and biased portrayal of IFS and its founder. The IFS Institute has acknowledged these challenges and is actively addressing them through enhanced training standards and ongoing research initiatives^12,13. This will be discussed further in a later section.

Two unrelated Schwartzes: conflation as journalistic malpractice

The lynchpin of the article’s argument is its deliberate conflation of two distinct individuals, a rhetorical tactic that misleads readers and renders its central thesis invalid. By positioning the Castlewood clinic’s director and the IFS model’s founder in close narrative proximity, the article invites the reader to confuse them, thereby falsely attributing the clinic’s malpractice to the IFS model itself.

• Mark Schwartz, Sc.D.: This individual was the Clinical Co-Director of the Castlewood Treatment Center. He holds a doctorate from Johns Hopkins University and was the subject of multiple malpractice lawsuits. These suits accuse him of using hypnosis and other suggestive techniques to implant false, often bizarre and disturbing memories in patients (later found to involve implausible accounts of abuse and ritualized harm). His specializations are listed as eating disorders, sexual trauma and intimacy disorders.

• Richard “Dick” C. Schwartz, PhD: This individual is the founder of the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model. He holds a PhD in Marriage and Family Therapy from Purdue University and has held academic positions at the University of Illinois at Chicago and Northwestern University.

The article’s rhetorical strategy hinges on attributing the alleged harms associated with Mark Schwartz’s methods directly to Richard Schwartz’s IFS model. However, as clarified in a recent statement from the IFS Institute:

The critical journalistic failure, therefore, is not the mention of Richard Schwartz in the context of Castlewood (since a professional association did exist) but the equation of Castlewood’s discredited methods with the IFS therapeutic model. As the next section will show, the practices for which Mark Schwartz was sued directly contravene the foundational principles of IFS, which explicitly rejects directive, suggestive or interpretive interventions.

The Castlewood controversy: a case study in anti-IFS practice

The article’s central claim that the harms at Castlewood are representative of IFS does not withstand clinical or methodological scrutiny. A review of the practices alleged at Castlewood versus the established principles of IFS reveals that Mark Schwartz’s methods were not “bad IFS”; they were non-IFS.

Reports and lawsuits concerning the Castlewood Treatment Center describe a disturbing revival of repressed memory therapy and “satanic panic” practices reminiscent of the 1990s¹⁵. These methods were highly directive rather than client-led, relying on hypnosis, guided imagery, dream interpretation and repeated suggestive cueing of traumatic memories. Patients were reportedly encouraged to recover memories of ritualistic abuse, such as belonging to “satanic cults” or enduring organized sexual exploitation, and were allegedly pressured into family isolation. In contrast, the IFS model is explicitly non-directive, non-suggestive and client-led. The therapist’s role is to help the client access their “Self” (the core, compassionate and calm centre of awareness) from which healing naturally unfolds. The therapist acts as a facilitator or “co-therapist,” never inventing, naming or assigning traits, parts or memories.

Where Castlewood pursued memory excavation, IFS focuses on memory reconsolidation, a neuroscience-informed process of revising emotional learning rather than recovering factual narratives. A recent meta-analysis supports this distinction, showing that non-directive instructions (reflective of IFS) carry a significantly lower risk of false memory implantation than guided imagery or pressure to respond (methods characteristic of Castlewood)¹⁶. The practices at Castlewood, therefore, directly violated the foundational principles of IFS. The Cut’s article mistakenly, and misleadingly, criticizes a non-directive model by invoking the well-documented harms of a highly directive one.

Comparative analysis: IFS model vs. Castlewood practice

The following table summarizes the fundamental, irreconcilable differences between the IFS model and the practices of Mark Schwartz’s clinic, which The Cut article conflates.

The article’s attempt to discredit Richard Schwartz extends well beyond its conflation with the Castlewood case, employing a consistent pattern of character assassination. It begins by citing an allegation that Schwartz was “careless” and once left “private medical documents on a park bench,” then selectively quotes from an interview, his social media posts, and his book No Bad Parts, while misrepresenting his spiritual orientation and benevolent collaborations with the Compassion Prison Project to portray him as incompetent, dangerous or delusional.

It should be acknowledged that the alleged act of removing confidential notes from a clinical setting and leaving them in a public space would, under U.S. law, constitute a breach of patient confidentiality and a violation of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA). However, within the article, this reference functions rhetorically rather than evidentially, used to amplify a perception of recklessness while ignoring the clear separation between this isolated lapse and the documented malpractice of another individual, Mark Schwartz.

By strategically juxtaposing these details, the article blurs moral and professional boundaries, transferring culpability by association and reinforcing a false narrative that Richard Schwartz is a reckless practitioner and that the IFS model itself reflects that recklessness. This tactic is further advanced by invoking figures such as Bessel van der Kolk, Gabor Maté and Thomas Hübl to suggest that IFS’s legitimacy rests on “questionable” allies rather than its own scientific and clinical merits. References to their credentials and affiliations, coupled with mocking language such as “celebrity acolytes” and “flattering endorsements,” frame IFS’s rise as a fleeting, celebrity-driven trend rather than a legitimate therapeutic model.

This is particularly troubling given that the IFS model has been adopted by almost 15,000 practitioners worldwide (trained by the IFS Institute) and is increasingly integrated into trauma treatment settings. Many trauma survivors report meaningful recovery through IFS, supported by a growing (though still developing) body of empirical evidence¹³. If such individuals are discouraged from continuing treatment due to misleading or sensationalized reporting, the consequences could be severe. Undermining public trust in a therapeutic model that has demonstrably helped many clients risks not only reputational harm but also tangible psychological and emotional repercussions for those in care. In this sense, attempts to discredit a therapeutic modality and its founder may produce deeper and more far-reaching harm than the very misconduct the article purports to expose.

Misrepresentation of the client’s testimony

The article’s portrayal of the case in question relies on strategic omission and narrative framing. The story is told almost entirely from the perspective of the accused parent, whose pain and disbelief become the emotional centre of the piece. In contrast, the daughter (the actual patient) is rendered passive and voiceless. She is described through others’ interpretations rather than her own account, stripped of agency, perspective and complexity.

This framing leverages the deep emotional charge of parent–child estrangement to elicit automatic sympathy for the parent, positioning them as the unambiguous victim and the daughter as a misguided accuser. For readers who have experienced sexual abuse or been dismissed as unreliable, this dynamic risks retraumatization, reinforcing the societal pattern of disbelieving survivors.

The true tragedy, however, is not a daughter falsely accusing a parent, it is a family destroyed by clinical malpractice. The patient was treated in a facility where directive and suggestive techniques (methods long discredited for their potential to implant false memories) were reportedly used. Whether her recovered memories were accurate or not is now unknowable precisely because of those methods.

By focusing exclusively on the false memory narrative, the article centres the accused’s suffering while erasing the patient’s experience of harm. It commits a critical logical error: assuming that because some clients were harmed by unethical practices not related to the IFS model, the therapeutic model itself must be inherently dangerous. This conflation of a practitioner’s misconduct with the principles of an unrelated therapy represents both a methodological and ethical failure of journalism.

Finally, it is worth noting that experiences at Castlewood were not universally negative. Some former patients have described their treatment there as deeply beneficial or even “life-saving.” This complexity underscores the need for nuance: a single institution can both help and harm, depending on the integrity, competence and methods of individual clinicians.

Analyzing the “pseudoscience” claim

The article’s insinuation that IFS is a “pseudoscience” is factually incorrect and relies on a methodologically flawed understanding of how psychotherapy is evaluated.

Far from being an untested whim, IFS has a growing evidence base, a fact the article conveniently ignores.

• SAMHSA NREPP Listing: In 2015, IFS was included in the U.S. government’s National Registry of Evidence-based Programs and Practices (NREPP), maintained by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA)¹⁷. The listing, based on an independent review process, rated IFS as “effective” for improving general functioning and well-being, and “promising” for phobia, panic and generalized anxiety disorders, depression, and self-concept^18,19. The designation was supported by a 2013 randomized controlled trial (RCT) by Shadick et al., which found significant reductions in depression symptoms and physical pain among participants with rheumatoid arthritis²⁰.

• Trauma specific research: Although most existing studies on IFS and trauma are preliminary, they offer promising early evidence and form a foundation for ongoing large-scale RCTs.

  - A 2021 pilot study evaluated IFS for adults with histories of childhood trauma. The study reported that “92% of participants no longer met criteria for PTSD at one-month follow-up” and concluded that IFS “shows strong potential as a trauma treatment deserving of further controlled study”²¹.

  - A 2021 study examined the IFS concept of “Self-Leadership” (the capacity for compassion, calm and courage) and found it was uniquely associated with lower anxiety, depression, sleep disturbance and dissociation, as well as better relationship quality²².

  - A 2024 study assessed the efficacy of IFS therapy for trauma-related symptoms. The study found significant reductions in PTSD symptoms and anxiety, supporting IFS as an effective trauma treatment approach warranting further research²³.

  - A 2024 study compared the effectiveness of IFS and Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT) in women with childhood trauma. Both therapies significantly decreased anxiety sensitivity and body dysphoria, suggesting IFS as a promising intervention for trauma-associated emotional and somatic symptoms²⁴.

  - A 2025 pilot study of an online hybrid group-and-individual IFS program for individuals with comorbid PTSD and substance use disorder demonstrated high acceptability and feasibility. The intervention produced clinically meaningful reductions in PTSD symptom severity and craving, indicating potential for integrated telehealth delivery of IFS to complex populations²⁵.

Together, these studies illustrate a growing body of peer-reviewed evidence supporting IFS as a clinically promising, trauma-informed therapy, contradicting claims that it lacks empirical grounding²⁶.

A methodological double standard (therapy vs. drug research)

The article’s critique of IFS reflects a methodological error common in popular and academic discourse: holding psychotherapeutic modalities to the evidentiary standards of pharmaceutical research. Such comparisons are conceptually invalid, as psychotherapy and pharmacotherapy differ fundamentally in mechanism, delivery and evaluative design. Large-scale RCTs, frequently idealized as the “gold standard” of evidence, are predominantly industry-funded and have been shown to overreport positive outcomes. By contrast, psychotherapy research faces intrinsic methodological constraints: it lacks equivalent financial support²⁷, cannot employ double-blind designs, and must account for therapist allegiance effects²⁸. To dismiss IFS as “pseudoscientific” for not conforming to pharmaceutical research standards, while disregarding the systemic biases underpinning those standards, constitutes a clear methodological and journalistic double standard.

The role and limitations of symptom-management models vs. IFS

The article’s critique reflects a limited clinical understanding, failing to distinguish between therapies designed for symptom management and those aimed at trauma resolution. In doing so, it attacks a depth model (IFS) for the dangers of depth, using as evidence a clinic that “went deep” in violation of ethical and methodological standards.

Contemporary, skills-based frameworks (often considered “gold-standard” treatments) are effective for stabilizing clients and managing symptoms. These structured, time-limited models emphasize cognitive restructuring, emotional regulation and coping strategies. Yet, as many clinicians note, they tend to prioritize symptom reduction over the deeper processing of traumatic experience. They offer essential tools for stabilization but may not reach the developmental and relational wounds underlying complex trauma.

By contrast, IFS represents a depth-oriented paradigm focused on healing at the source rather than solely managing surface symptoms. It is intentionally non-directive and non-pathologizing, helping clients engage compassionately with their internal “parts” and fostering integration through “Self-leadership”. The goal is not merely to control distress but to transform it by restoring internal harmony.

Criticizing IFS for not emphasizing symptom management reflects a category error. Both approaches serve vital but distinct therapeutic purposes, operate at different depths of intervention and address different phases of recovery²⁹.

Acknowledging valid risks in a valid modality

The article, despite its flawed thesis, inadvertently highlights legitimate concerns within the mental health field. The harm it documents is real; however, it misattributes the cause. The genuine risks lie not so much in the IFS model itself, but in its misapplication by untrained or unethical practitioners.

While IFS can be a powerful therapeutic approach for many clients, it is not suitable for all individuals or clinical contexts, as discussed earlier. Another significant risk may stem from its recent popularity. This surge in interest has led to a proliferation of practitioners who may be inadequately trained or insufficiently supervised. For instance, the article notes that 45,000 mental health practitioners in the Psychology Today database list IFS as a treatment modality, whereas the IFS Institute has trained around 15,000. Where, then, have the remaining 30,000 practitioners been trained?

More broadly, the mental health field (including other modalities such as EMDR) faces structural issues that allow clinicians to complete non-accredited training programs without meaningful supervision or review of recorded sessions. Additionally, many graduate programs lack comprehensive trauma-informed curricula, leaving therapists vulnerable to oversimplified or misleading trainings on complex models like IFS, which they are not equipped to apply safely^30,31.

This combination of unapproved training, insufficient prior clinical experience, lack of oversight, and failure to adhere to core IFS principles (rather than flaws within the model itself) constitutes the real danger. The well-documented harm at Castlewood, for example, did not occur because of IFS principles but due to their violation. Therapists (led by Mark Schwartz) imposed their own interpretations and asserted the therapist’s values rather than exploring the client’s values. Such directive, value-imposing practices directly contradict the fundamental IFS tenet of non-directiveness and client-led exploration. The problem, therefore, is not IFS, but the misapplication of IFS under its name.

As noted previously, another valid concern involves the use of IFS with clients experiencing high levels of dissociation, such as those with dissociative identity disorder (DID) or complex PTSD. Any depth-oriented therapy carries inherent destabilization risks if conducted without adequate grounding or when applied to individuals who are already highly dissociative. Competent IFS practice mitigates these risks through careful pacing, according to the client’s needs and limits. A skilled IFS therapist (trained by the IFS Institute and appropriately supervised) does not “go digging” for exiled parts (“exiles”) prematurely, as this can be destabilizing. Instead, trauma-informed application emphasizes first establishing a trusting relationship with the client’s protective parts (“managers” and “firefighters”). When applied correctly, IFS is generally not considered destabilizing; rather, it is the underlying trauma that contributes to dissociation, whereas poorly paced or inadequately trained therapy may overwhelm a client’s protective system.

In summary, the risks associated with IFS arise primarily from systemic issues in clinician training and from the model’s popularity outpacing its responsible dissemination, not from flaws within the theoretical framework itself. With proper training, supervision and trauma-informed pacing, IFS remains a valuable and safe modality for many individuals in clinical practice. That said, it is important to acknowledge that IFS, like any therapeutic approach (including CBT or DBT) may not be effective or suitable for every client, even when applied correctly.

Conclusion

The Cut’s article fails to serve the public good. It exploits a family tragedy, relies on a fundamental and disqualifying factual conflation of two different professionals, and misapplies methodological standards to paint a promising model as “pseudoscience”.

The article correctly identifies a harm (the malpractice at Castlewood) but completely misdiagnoses the pathogen. It attributes the harm to IFS, when the evidence clearly shows the harm was caused by the violation of IFS principles, namely the use of directive, suggestive and discredited recovered memory techniques. The real, valid concerns about IFS lie not so much in its model, which is evidence-based and non-pathologizing, but in its implementation. The true risk, as with any potent therapy, is destabilization by practitioners who are inadequately trained, poorly supervised, and who (like the therapists at Castlewood) violate the model’s most sacred, non-directive principles.

References

1. https://www.courthousenews.com/bizarre-claim-against-eating-disorder-clinic/

2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_C._Schwartz

3. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10538710802584601

4. https://foundationifs.org/news-articles/79-ifs-an-evidence-based-practice

5. https://foundationifs.org/research/empirical-evidence

6. https://pharmaceutical-journal.com/article/news/industry-funded-trials-show-bias-for-pharmacotherapy-over-psychotherapy

7. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8951352/

8. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/40874484/

9. https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s44202-025-00339-2

10. https://iptrauma.org/docs/body-of-knowledge-of-psychotraumatology/parts-theory-ego-state-theory-and-structural-dissociation-differences-overlaps-and-clinical-implications-for-trauma/

11. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10926771.2021.2013375

12. https://ifs-institute.com/news-events/news/creating-clarity-ifs-level-1-admissions-changes-coming-2024

13. https://ifs-institute.com/resources/research

14. https://ifs-institute.com/news-events/news/response-new-york-magazine-article

15. https://cornerstone.lib.mnsu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2328&context=etds

16. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/37113566/

17. https://foundationifs.org/news-articles/79-ifs-an-evidence-based-practice

18. https://psychology.org.au/for-members/publications/inpsych/2022/winter-2022/internal-family-systems-therapy

19. https://ifs-association.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/IFS-Evidence-Based.pdf

20. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/23950186/

21. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10926771.2021.2013375

22. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/01926187.2020.1865218

23. https://psycnet.apa.org/fulltext/2024-98110-001.html

24.https://www.researchgate.net/publication/390781520_The_Effectiveness_of_Internal_Family_Systems_Therapy_IFS_and_Mindfulness-Based_Cognitive_Therapy_MBCT_on_Anxiety_Sensitivity_and_Body_Dysphoria_in_Women_with_Childhood_Trauma_Experiences

25.https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/psychiatry/articles/10.3389/fpsyt.2025.1544435/full

26.https://www.researchgate.net/publication/394124901_Exploring_the_evidence_for_Internal_Family_Systems_therapy_a_scoping_review_of_current_research_gaps_and_future_directions

27. https://pharmaceutical-journal.com/article/news/industry-funded-trials-show-bias-for-pharmacotherapy-over-psychotherapy

28. https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/psychological-medicine/article/abs/biases-in-research-risk-factors-for-nonreplicability-in-psychotherapy-and-pharmacotherapy-research/5D18546D585D42C44AB53E8F633F0B60

29. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10845104

30. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36913296/

31. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/33062214/

Let me tell you a story. I was co-presenting a workshop at the recent Internal Family Systems (IFS) conference. Part of the demonstration involved a professional mime artist (a beautiful friend and nonduality teacher David Elzey, whom we asked to join us). He was using his body to convey the principles of nondual IFS. This is the idea that Self is not just inside us but is the very fabric of awareness in which everything exists - our inner parts, every other person, and every phenomenal object are all parts held in the vastness of a single consciousness. David made a series of specific movements with his arms and hands to represent this sense of Self holding our parts. It was a beautiful expression of the concept.

Halfway through the workshop, a new participant arrived. She had missed the entire first half, including David’s performance. She knew nothing of what had come before. Later, when she spoke up to ask a question, she began to describe her own felt sense of Self holding her parts. And as she spoke, she began to move her hands and arms, echoing the distinct movements David had performed half an hour earlier.

The room felt still. What happened there? Was it coincidence? Was it synchronicity? Jung used that word to describe meaningful patterns that defy simple causality. But what if synchronicity is more than just a psychological curiosity? What if it is a direct glimpse of nonduality - that everything is interconnected and that time itself does not function the way we think it does? In that room it was as if the field of consciousness itself carried the imprint of the mime’s gestures. The new participant did not need to see them. They were already present, already available to be tuned into. The memory was not in her brain but in the shared field.

This matters because it suggests that memory and meaning are not private possessions. They are part of a deeper order in which all experiences are recorded, not in a personal archive but in consciousness itself. From this view trauma, too, is etched into the field, yet so is healing. When we tune into Self, we access not only our own capacity but the resonant structure of consciousness that holds everything we need.

The idea that information exists outside of us isn’t just a spiritual one. Consider the paradox of memory. Some people have a condition called hyperthymesia. They remember every single day of their lives in cinematic detail (what they wore, what they ate and what the weather was like). The brain’s storage capacity is not big enough for the sheer volume of data. Yet the memory is there. So where is it?

Experiences may not be stored but may instead leave patterns in spacetime itself, and perhaps beyond any concept of spacetime, in consciousness itself. In this model, neurons act like resonant dials tuning into those patterns. The synapses in your brain don’t store the broadcast; they just help you find the right station. This idea finds a parallel in physics. Gravitational waves can leave a lasting offset in the geometry of spacetime called the gravitational wave memory effect (a permanent afterglow of the event). In this way, the ongoing activity of life etches a distributed record into the universe. Memory isn’t locked inside your skull. It’s woven into the fabric of reality.

This doesn’t mean neurons are unimportant. They are crucial. They choreograph the tuning process. It isn’t sci-fi time travel either. Recall is simply re-entering an existing entangled pattern, which physics allows for. This framework makes sense of the lived experience of memory, its richness, its detail and the sudden wholeness of certain recollections.

If individual memory is written into the universe, then what about collective memory? This is where the work of Rupert Sheldrake on morphic fields comes in useful. In his model, every species, system and group has its own field of memory and pattern. Behaviours, forms and even ideas resonate across time and space. Once a pattern has been established, it becomes easier for others to pick it up, not through direct contact, but because the field itself holds the memory.

Collective or generational trauma gets stored in this collective consciousness field. But so do collective goodness and collective healing. These morphic fields are like a middle layer between individual brains and universal consciousness. We all tune into these fields, both drawing from them and contributing to them. When enough individuals embody a new pattern of healing or compassion, the field changes and that pattern becomes easier for everyone else to access. This is why some generational wounds feel so entrenched and why movements of healing can spread so rapidly once they reach a tipping point.

Everything is resonance. Everything is coherence. As Einstein put it, everything is energy. The Self in the IFS model has its own resonance. The Self field is a kind of morphic field too - a living pattern of healing and wholeness. I experienced this directly during my IFS level 3 training on Zoom. Even through a screen, our group settled into a palpable wave of the Self field. It was a coherent field of awareness bigger than any individual, something we could all tune into and participate in. Healing in that space felt not like an individual achievement, but like something already held and available in the collective, waiting for us to resonate with it.

This idea echoes others. Jung spoke of the collective unconscious. Teilhard de Chardin described the noosphere, a planetary “thinking layer”. In Eastern philosophy, the concept of akasha or the akashic records describes a universal field of information. You could say Akasha describes the archive (the universal record), Jung describes the content (the archetypes), Sheldrake describes the mechanism (resonance fields), and Teilhard describes the trajectory (the evolutionary direction of consciousness). Together they sketch a picture of consciousness as both individual and collective, symbolic and patterned, evolutionary and resonant.

Which brings us back to the woman in the workshop. What happened was not a coincidence. She tuned into the field of the room. She resonated with the pattern of awareness that the mime had so beautifully seeded into the space. What we call synchronicity may just be moments when our tuning sharpens and we align with the patterns already present in the great field of consciousness. Memory, trauma, healing and insight are not stored in private boxes. They are woven into the living fabric of the universe.

The brain tunes. Spacetime remembers. Consciousness holds the score.

References

Brown, W. (2025). The Memory Field: Could Quantum Biology Involve Accessing Information Stored in Space Itself?The International Space Federation.

Jung, C. G. (1959). The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton University Press.

Parker, E. S., Cahill, L., & McGaugh, J. L. (2006). A case of unusual autobiographical remembering. Neurocase, 12(1), 35-49.

Sheldrake, R. (1981). A New Science of Life: The Hypothesis of Morphic Resonance. J.P. Tarcher.

Teilhard de Chardin, P. (1959). The Phenomenon of Man. Harper & Row.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.