Doing the undoings

There comes a time on the spiritual path when progress no longer looks like gaining something new — it looks like shedding. Unlearning. Releasing. It looks like doing the undoings.

This phrase has been whispering to me lately. It feels like an invitation. Not to add more rituals, more affirmations, or more wisdom to carry — but to set some of it down. To unravel what was once needed, but now feels like a knot around the soul.

We spend so much of life building identities, collecting beliefs, accumulating ways of being in the world. We adapt to survive, to belong, to feel safe. But what happens when those old ways become cages rather than shelter?

Doing the undoings is not about destruction — it’s about liberation.

It’s about questioning the stories we’ve told ourselves:

• Am I really unworthy if I slow down?

• Do I truly need to control every outcome to feel secure?

• Is this fear protecting me, or is it holding me hostage?

In my own journey, I’ve begun to notice how much of my inner work isn’t about becoming better, but about remembering who I was before I learned to be afraid. It’s peeling back the layers to find the untouched, unbroken self underneath.

This undoing is quiet work. It doesn’t scream for attention. It often happens in stillness — during a walk, a meditation, or a single deep breath after a hard truth. Sometimes it’s messy, full of resistance. Sometimes it’s tender and full of grace.

And it’s ongoing.

There’s no finish line, only more gentle releases:

The old habits. The inherited beliefs. The outdated roles.

One by one, they are thanked and set free.

If you find yourself in a season of undoing, take heart. You’re not falling apart — you’re falling into truth. Into essence. Into spaciousness. This is holy work. Trust it.

And as you un-become what you never truly were, you just might remember the lightness of being that was always yours.