I have done years of work and healing.
Why have I not attracted my conscious partner yet?
This is a question I receive a lot.
And here is my answer. It might sting:
Doing years of work is not a badge of honor we wear in the hope that the universe, God, or life itself will finally decide that we are worthy and therefore deliver our divine counterpart.
The mind likes this idea because it places the power somewhere outside of us. It allows us to wait, to stay comfortable, to believe that if we do enough of the right things, something external will eventually reward us.
But the truth is far less comfortable, and it brings everything back to yourself.
If you have done years of work and find yourself asking in frustration, “Where are they? How can this be?” then something essential has been missed.
You may have learned a great deal. You may have healed many layers of the onion of your soul. But the part that often gets overlooked is this:
We do not control this journey. At least not entirely.
There were moments on my own path where I felt deeply connected to the divine, where my heart felt open and alive with love, where everything in me felt ready to meet the woman who is now my wife.
If someone had asked me in those moments if I was ready, I would have answered without hesitation: Yes. Of course I am ready!
And yet, life had other plans.
I was declaring readiness and worthiness sincerely, and still there were soul lessons that had to be lived and integrated before the timing could align.
I believe this is one of the hardest truths for the mind to accept on the path of awakening, not just in relationship, but in life as a whole:
You can feel something with extraordinary depth and clarity. You can touch love, truth, and devotion so powerfully that it feels undeniable. And still, the outer world does not reflect it back to you. At least not immediately, or in the timeline our mind desires it to. And yes, some shifts happen instantaneously, but expecting it to be this way each time, creates suffering.
That gap can feel deeply disheartening.
I have known rage in that place. Anger at life itself. How can I be shown access to this love, to these states of being, and still find myself in loneliness and isolation?
I have also known grief. A quiet grief that nothing lasts, that no one seems to be listening, that perhaps, after all, I am alone.
It feels unbearably unfair.
Until the story drops.
Until you stop arguing with life.
Until you come back into your body, perhaps kneeling on the ground, with your hands on your heart, finally allowing yourself to feel what is actually here.
Maybe you weep. Or maybe you simply stay present long enough to feel the pressure that has been driving you forward. The urgency. The need. The parts inside that insist this should not be happening this way.
And at some point, something deep within you arises, something profoundly powerful and deep:
I trust this path, even if it does not make sense right now.
When you embody this, if only for a moment, there is a subtle shift that carries immense depth. A sense of genuine trust. A deep connection to something larger than your personal timeline.
And then, inevitably, the pressure returns.
Because this is not a one time realization. It is something we remember, forget, and remember again.
The larger picture continues to ask for our trust.
Life is listening. A deeper process is unfolding, even when nothing appears to be moving. The mind will try to turn this waiting into a story of lack or failure, but it is not.
Remember this: Life is always moving. At times in big waves, at others times in smaller measures, and it is your trust that gives it infinitely more meaning, beauty, and depth.
If you’re ready to go deeper, click here to see my upcoming training courses or click here to access past recordings.
