Does a spiritual attitude mean detached faith or invisible knowledge?
I can’t say exactly when spirituality truly caught my attention, but it’s probably always been part of my life—sometimes close, sometimes distant. As a kid, we understood “spirituality” very differently. Back then, it meant horoscopes in newspapers, teen magazine predictions, and laughing with friends trying to figure out who matched whom by star sign.
Then life happened: building, work, side jobs, family, organizing, nonstop rushing. Days flew by in a blink, and the “invisible world” somehow slipped out of my view. For nearly 10 years, my focus was on tangible things—deadlines, tasks, and raising kids.
Then suddenly, everything seemed to slow down. My daughter was growing up beautifully, and I started noticing how motherhood brought up old patterns and unresolved feelings inside me. I caught myself reliving the same situations again and again—only now I was in the mother’s role. I also realized an invisible anxiety would hit me whenever my daughter reached certain ages or milestones. It was like my unhealed traumas were being triggered. I knew I had to face this—not just for my own peace, but to avoid passing this baggage on and repeating life’s cycles.
Spirituality reemerged—not as horoscopes, but as a deep inner calling. I felt I couldn’t keep sweeping these inner processes under the rug. Maybe that was the moment spirituality stopped being something external and became a true inner need.
When something works—you just don’t know how
One of the most profound experiences on this path was family constellation work. I hesitate to call it just a spiritual tool because that feels like it might sell it short. But if anything is truly amazing, it’s family constellations! Anyone who’s attended even one session led by a skilled professional knows how hard it is to put into words what happens. Strangers work together for a day, and those who know nothing about you reflect your life’s events, your loved ones’ feelings, and your unspoken pains. It’s like someone shines a light into your subconscious and projects it onto the room’s walls.
Every time, I’m amazed at how this whole system—the morphogenetic field—works. I can’t explain it logically, and even today it’s mostly speculation, yet it’s powerful. Maybe I love it because it shows how deeply connected we are and how scientific healing can beautifully coexist with the spiritually intangible. I truly hope these methods gain more professional recognition here, because healing happens not only in the body but also where actions can’t quite reach.
Grounded feet, mind in the sky
I admit, sometimes the biggest challenge is when a system I’m exploring suddenly starts working. I can quickly talk myself out of it and bring out my skeptical side. Take prananadi, for example. Twice I experienced pain easing and then disappearing after treatments—despite months of massages, cupping, exercises, and strong painkillers and muscle relaxants that didn’t help. Still, my rational mind and ego immediately searched for an explanation—or a refutation.
It’s hard to believe healing can sometimes happen this way. That it doesn’t always need medicine, machines, or a clear diagnosis—just attention, energy, trust, and self-love. Yet I’m also glad for my doubting side because it keeps me grounded. It stops me from drifting into wishful thinking but doesn’t close the door on my intuition and experiences.
Where faith and knowledge meet
Often, I’ve signed up for very different self-awareness programs and received the same messages from unrelated experts—just phrased differently. In those moments, I pause, smile, and think: it’s no coincidence I’m hearing this again. Maybe life is gently guiding me, but I’m not always quiet enough to hear the instructions.
For me, spirituality isn’t an escape from reality but a deeper connection to it. It’s not flying above the clouds but diving within myself. It’s not about believing everything but daring to feel more and ask questions.
I don’t feel I have to choose between science and spirituality. Both matter and can be true—they just speak different languages. One is logical, the other intuitive. One asks for proof, the other for experience—but maybe somewhere in between, these extremes can meet.
