Sound Healing With Spirit

A Field That Holds Us

I believe we are already immersed in a field of loving intelligence — call it Source, Spirit, Life Force Energy, or whatever resonates with you. This presence is steady, vast, and deeply supportive. It’s not something we have to earn. It’s always here.

For me, allowing means loosening the grip and creating space for that presence to flow through. It is not passive, and it is not giving up. Rather, it is softening the tight places in us that try to manage, control, or push life along faster than it wants to go.

What Gets in the Way

What often blocks us from allowing are the looping thoughts, inner criticisms, and self-pressuring we all know so well. Sometimes the body tells the truth before the mind does. If we pause and notice our physical state, we may find tightness in the chest, constriction in the stomach, or a jaw held tight. These subtle tensions are often signs that we’ve been caught in stress or self-judgment.

Some of my own patterns were so ingrained that it took patience even to detect them. Gently softening these places brings surprising clarity — and a quiet relief.

Allowing Difficult Feelings

Allowing isn’t only about letting love and clarity flow in. It’s also about letting fear, hurt, or feelings of inadequacy be here without pushing them away. Often it is our resistance to these emotions — telling ourselves we shouldn’t feel them, or rushing to move past them — that keeps us looping in the same patterns. Some of these feelings have been quietly waiting a long time to be seen and acknowledged. When we pause and allow even these tender places to exist, they begin to soften in their own time, and the cycle slowly loses its hold.

The Habit of Rushing

Rushing is another major obstacle. Of course, there are moments when moving quickly is necessary, but often we rush out of habit.

We rush to finish tasks, to get our words in during a conversation, even to grasp at intuitive guidance. We rush our own emotions, telling ourselves “I shouldn’t feel this.” We rush our healing and growth, wanting to be farther along than we are.

But rushing clutters the inner space where Soul’s clarity would otherwise dwell.

Learning from Nature

Allowing is the opposite of rushing. It is pausing long enough to notice what is here, and to let higher awareness find a place within us.

It is like planting a seed in the soil and then letting nature do its work. Imagine if that seed had a human mind: the moment it was covered with earth, it might fret, “Will I ever sprout? Am I doing this right?”

But nature doesn’t need fretting. Growth is already written into its design. We too are part of nature. If we make room, Divine Consciousness quietly knows how to lead us forward in a gentle way.

Even in a well-tended garden, growth has its pauses — there are dry spells, too much rain, not enough sunshine, or too much heat. Through all the changing seasons, life quietly keeps reaching upward and onward.

Softening into Clarity

I’ve noticed that when I stop trying to control what comes next, the answers often arrive in their own time — and in the meantime, I can enjoy my life more fully.

What if we didn’t have to try so hard? What if allowing is not about doing, but about softening the places that try to do too much?

It is about saying yes to the present moment, even when it’s imperfect and messy.

A Song of Allowing

The chant I’m Allowing by Alexia Chellun beautifully captures this spirit. Its simplicity is what makes it powerful. When sung or heard with presence, it shifts the heart from striving into receiving.

If you’d like to pause and experience it yourself, here is Alexia Chellun’s song I’m Allowing — a chant that embodies this spirit:

Allowing – Alexia Chellun (432Hz)

I return to it often as a reminder that I don’t have to push my way into connection with the sacred. I just need to allow.

Returning to Trust

In the end, allowing becomes a practice of trust — not the cliché of blind trust, but the lived sense that I am held, that love is still flowing, even if I’ve forgotten.

When I pause and soften, I remember that I am enough, and that clarity always finds its way back.