Let me tell you a different kind of healing story.

In the Popol Vuh, the sacred text of the Maya, the hero twins don’t journey into the underworld because they’re broken. They go because that’s where meaning lives. They descend not as wounded beings seeking repair but as whole ones seeking transformation. They dance with death. They outwit the Lords of Xibalba. And when they return, they are not fixed—they are re-aligned. Re-membered. They are more fully themselves than before.

That’s healing, too.

But not the kind we usually talk about.

Let’s Widen the Frame

We’ve been sold the idea that healing is always a response to damage. A fixing. A cure.
But what if healing is also a return? A return to rhythm. To coherence. To self.

When we’re scattered, stretched thin, caught in the thorns of urgency—it’s not always trauma.
Sometimes, it’s just life.
And the call to heal is really the call to return to centre.
To remember your own shape.
To re-member the parts of you that got scattered in the noise.

Healing, in this sense, is less like surgery and more like music.
It’s attunement.
A coming back into harmony.

Think of a compass needle.
It’s not broken when it spins—it’s just near too much interference.
Let it rest, and it remembers where true north is.

That’s what healing can be.
A still moment. A quiet re-alignment.
A slow exhale back into your own rhythm.

Three Faces of Healing

Let’s reframe the whole thing:

• Healing as Cure — Something was broken; it needed to be fixed.
• Healing as Integration — Something was fragmented; it needed to be held.
• Healing as Return — I lost touch with soul; I found my way home.

That last one? That’s the mythic one.
That’s what happens when you sit beside a story that knows your name.
When you write something down and feel a click inside your chest.
When you walk barefoot under a wide sky and remember the Earth still wants to hold you.

Healing isn’t always dramatic.
Sometimes it’s a cup of tea.
Sometimes it’s a song you didn’t know you needed.
Sometimes it’s putting down your phone and breathing into the moment that is actually happening.

It’s not always about suffering.
It’s about connection—to soul, to rhythm, to meaning, to now.

A Prompt for You

Think of a recent moment where you felt whole—
Not perfect. Not fully healed.
But steady. Present. True.

• What were you doing?
• Who were you with (if anyone)?
• What part of you came back online in that moment?
• And what would it mean to honour that as healing?

A Question to Carry

What if healing isn’t the opposite of illness,
but the practice of remembering your own rhythm?

Let that question walk with you today.
Let it shape the way you breathe, the way you write, and the way you rest.

Because healing isn’t somewhere out there.
It’s already here.
It’s you, returning.