Synchronicities: Trusting the Unseen, Listening to the Body

The Universe has jokes. And receipts.

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Stepping from shadow into light — the moment faith becomes form.

Answering the Call for Connection

After weeks of trying to keep my head down and focus on survival, I found myself craving genuine connection again. Truthfully, I was in a low place—feeling rushed, fearful, and heavy. Everything in me wanted to retreat, to stay small, to “get things done” instead of reaching out. But underneath that fear was the quiet knowing that what I truly needed was connection — real connection — with people of like mind and belief.

I knew I’d have a better chance of finding that kind of soul-aligned community at an event hosted by Reiki Rachel and Consciously Erin. So, I decided to take the leap. There was a virtual community gathering on Zoom, a space for connection and energy exchange. I was wary, but figured I had nothing to lose. I made the time—despite my mind nagging me to “focus on work”—and from start to finish it felt like the Universe saying: We told you to trust us. We told you we’ve got your back. Let go of how the blessings arrive—our way is more fun.

In one of the breakout rooms, I found people who were inspiring and real. I felt seen—in ten minutes flat. I did the hard thing, and less than 24 hours later I was presented with another chance to step out of fear and into faith. Sometimes it isn’t stick and carrot on a string. Sometimes the carrot is handed right to you because you took a step.

The doorway to faith always opens from the inside.

Choosing Gratitude Over Expectation

Here’s the choice point: “human me” expected blessings to arrive in a specific package. But these people—these potential connections—made my old expectations look like graham crackers. So I chose gratitude. I chose openness. Maybe this is the beginning of a chain of events that leads somewhere brighter than I dared to dream.

It was such a small thing — a single choice to log in — but it shifted something fundamental in me. I started to feel that alignment doesn’t always roar in; sometimes it hums quietly through simple acts of faith.

After that call ended, I sat for a few minutes just breathing — really breathing. The kind of breath that sinks all the way down into your belly and lets your nervous system unclench. I realized this wasn’t just about the people I’d met or the synchronicities lining up — it was about me showing up. Every time I’ve followed that quiet nudge from the Universe, it’s led me somewhere that felt like alignment. This moment was no different. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t trying to control the outcome. I was allowing the flow to show me where I was meant to go next.

And as those new connections settled into my awareness, something in me clicked — I realized that every step I’ve taken, every intuitive nudge I’ve followed, has been leading me back to what I’ve always loved most: writing. Words were always my first home, the way I made sense of the chaos, the way I dreamed out loud.

So is it any surprise that after finally writing—after wanting to be a writer since childhood—I’m being given the opportunity to choose courage and embody the guidance I share? Coincidence? No. This is walk the walk season. Mixed bag or not, I’m doing it. It’s minute by minute some days, feeling the full range of emotion and then choosing presence after I feel it. I’m noticing how past experiences trained me for this chapter so I wouldn’t default to self-destruction. Do I still lean on my phone and scroll more often than I'd like for relief? Hell yeah. But I’m balancing it. Doing my best is enough—and growth happens every time I return to center.

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Signs and symbols: the Universe always finds a way to speak.

The Language of Synchronicity

Synchronicities have become anchors. Little cosmic winks that say, Hey—there’s light at the end of this tunnel. Two foxes chasing each other at 4 a.m. across the street. A chipmunk darting right in front of me. Tiny signs with big meaning: You’re not alone. Keep going. Laugh. Breathe. Be who you are—even in the illusion of chaos.

And yes, to me, some of this chaos is an illusion. I feel safer now than I did there. I have water, food, a place to rest my head. Call it delusional if you want—I call it an adventure. I love being outdoors. Reframing keeps me moving while I build new foundations like an adult who knows how to self-rescue.

Finding calm in the chaos

Finding calm in the chaos — the glow between raindrops.

No, I don’t have it all figured out. The old me would’ve spiraled—days, weeks even months of dark thoughts, then worse decisions. Now I sandwich the hard feelings: cry, rage, release…then breathe mindfully until I'm ready to watch something funny, and repeat until my nervous system remembers it’s allowed to exhale. I feel as much as I can before the feelings take me under. It’s not perfection. It’s skill. It’s practice.

Somewhere between those breakdowns and breakthroughs, my body began to respond — quietly at first — as if it finally believed me when I said we were safe. Just as the Universe speaks through synchronicities, our bodies whisper through sensation — reminders that divinity isn’t only “out there,” but living within our skin.

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Somatics: When the Body Finally Exhales

The body knows when it’s safe to breathe again.

The day after I posted Sacred Rage, I started my cycle. I’ve never been regular—chronic stress can do that. But this time, it arrived like a message: You’re finally safe enough to exist.

I’ve lived in extreme stress states my whole life. Only over the last year—while house/pet sitting full time—did I get more than a night or two away. I saw shifts in my health but, honestly, my body knew the relief was temporary. Now the change is real. Final. And I can feel it in my mood, my capacity to cope, my energy levels.

Do I feel guilt for staying as long as I did? Sometimes. Then I meet myself with compassion: I wasn’t ready. And it’s over now.

Peace can look like something as simple as breakfast in sunlight.

What peace feels like when it’s earned

Right now, peace is making food in a kitchen that isn’t mine. There’s no tension in the air, no footsteps behind me, no eyes watching. Just me, my animal friends and the sound of my own breath, and the quiet comfort of knowing I can move freely.

When I’m not house-sitting, peace looks different. It’s quieter but harder won — preparing simple meals out of my car, finding stillness in parking lots, reminding myself that safety isn’t always about walls but about energy. It’s keeping that same peace within myself, wherever I land. Peace is meeting my needs in the moment. Both versions teach me something sacred: peace isn’t about place, it’s about presence.

Sitting with uncertainty and discomfort—and realizing that on the other side I can finally breathe—feels like taking off training weights I didn’t know I’d been wearing.

Realignment starts with remembering who you are.

Alignment over survival

For so long, survival looked like shrinking, pleasing, and staying quiet just to avoid more harm. Now, alignment feels like expansion — not apology.

This season, I’m stepping into my IDGAF energy—rooted, not reactive. I know who I am, and I know what I’ll allow. Cutting ties with people who should have been closest to me taught me my own range: I can traverse any terrain. Fear can walk beside me, but it doesn’t get the wheel. I won’t be perfect, but I’ll return to center faster. That’s alignment.

Rituals are rebellion — choosing peace, on purpose.

Rituals that hold my sovereignty

After all that releasing, I found myself returning to the grounding practices I’ve always trusted — the ones that have carried me through every storm. They still work; it’s just harder to reach for them right now. This new living situation demands a different kind of presence — one that asks me to adapt, to find steadiness even when I can’t do things exactly the way I used to. The rituals haven’t lost their power; I’m simply learning how to meet them where I am. Writing and journaling pull me back into authorship:
The choices are mine. The actions are mine. The thoughts I keep—or let go—are mine. The emotions I feel—and redirect—are mine.

Walking, singing, laughing at ridiculous reels—these simple practices keep me in my body and in the now. They’ve reconnected me with my inner child and past selves. The parts I abandoned to survive are home again. That feeling? It’s a blessing so big I can’t put it into words. I wanted to feel whole for years. Turns out the “void” was full of unloved, unprotected pieces of me waiting to be reclaimed. Now they trust me. I trust me. And I want this wholeness for anyone reading.

Joy is a sacred act of defiance.

Letting joy back in after the fire

I keep choosing joy—on purpose. I laugh in my car like a maniac. People stare. I don’t care. On days I don’t laugh, don’t walk, don’t look at the sky, it’s harder not to get stuck. A loose routine helps: wake, meditate, gratitude, brush teeth, eat, walk. If I crave water, I find a lake. If I need a higher view, I find a mountain. Nature walks me back to myself.

After so much movement—emotionally, spiritually, even physically—I’ve come to see how every phase of this journey calls for a different kind of listening. Joy teaches us to expand. Stillness teaches us to hear. The more I soften into presence, the clearer my intuition becomes. It’s from that quiet awareness that discernment begins to take root.

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From Trust to Discernment

Before diving into discernment and decision-making, I want to touch on something that really shifted things for me when it came to synchronicities themselves.
There were times I could see the signs clearly — repeating numbers, perfect timing, conversations that echoed my thoughts — and still felt disbelief creeping in. My logical mind would whisper, “This is coincidence.”

What helped me move through that resistance was speaking to Spirit out loud:

“Okay Spirit, show me signs that force me to suspend disbelief.”

It sounds simple, but that invitation opened something profound.
Our minds are programmed to see it to believe it, but in my experience, it’s the opposite — we have to believe it to see it. Especially now, I’m learning to believe that I’ll be caught when I take the leap.

For so long, that old adage of “seeing is believing” kept me from trusting the unseen. It kept me in control mode — gripping reality so tightly that I left no room for magic. The moment I loosened that grip, when I stopped trying to choreograph every detail, that’s when Spirit, the Universe, God — whatever name you give it — finally had the space to work its magic.

And this is where the practice comes in — the real work. Trust isn’t automatic. It requires effort, focus, and intention to maintain that balance between surrender and action. Presence is the key — the choice to keep showing up with faith even when the evidence hasn’t arrived yet.

Guidance comes quietly when you stop forcing the noise.

On Discernment and Decisions

If you’re contemplating a big life change, don’t romanticize my choices. This is not for the faint of heart and came after decades of indecision and denial. Be brutally honest with yourself—and get outside perspective from someone truly objective. If you don’t have that, turn inward. Turn upward. Ask God/Source/Your Higher Self.

Get quiet. Soften your jaw, shoulders, and hands. Breathe. Ask your question. Listen for the first quiet answer. (Learning to discern your inner critic from your intuition takes time. Years, even. That’s okay.) Make a pros and cons list. Use both soul and strategy.

And if it helps, ask for clear signs from the Divine—specific, personal confirmations that make sense to you. Those little nudges can strengthen your trust in your own knowing. And in the rare moments where something just won’t settle, it can be supportive to seek a reading or guidance from a practitioner you resonate with. But let it be for confirmation—not direction. A reminder of what you already know but haven’t yet claimed. Because even then, the choice should still be yours.

That’s why I share readings and videos on my YouTube channel—not to dictate your path, but to be the exclamation point, never the sentence. Divination is meant to empower, not replace your intuition. When we treat it as the end-all be-all, we unknowingly hand our power to something outside of us—and that dishonors the wisdom of our own soul.

The reason I write about synchronicity is to remind you of your power to connect with the wondrous, unseen magic of the Universe—but also to remind you that balance is key. We are souls having a human experience, and that means using both our divine intuition and our human logic. The heart and the mind were never meant to compete—they were meant to collaborate.

Each step forward is a prayer answered in motion.

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Imperfect Guide, Real Growth

I don’t have everything figured out—and I’m still sharing. Because perfection and growth aren’t mutually exclusive. Joy and uncertainty aren’t either. Being a guide doesn’t mean you’ve solved every riddle of life; it means you’re willing to walk honestly and offer a light while you do.

Everyone’s definition of success is different. Right now, mine is mostly internal—nervous system peace, self-trust, daily choices that honor my soul. I believe the inner world shapes the outer, even if it takes time to catch up. That’s why I share the inner work, the choices, the self-love—because if more of us start within, the ripples will reach the world in ways that matter.

I meet people where they are. This is where I am. You are where you are. And that’s okay. We begin from here.

My intention isn’t to convince you to do what I did, or of anything for that matter. It’s to give you hope that even when life looks like chaos—inside or out—you can find your way back to your version of peace: one synchronicity, one minute, one step, one day at a time.

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Author’s Note

This piece marks a turning point — the quiet integration after the storm. Writing Sacred Rage was the fire; this one is the breath that followed.

These reflections were written while navigating uncertainty and deep surrender — a time when faith is my only currency.

I share this chapter as a reminder that healing doesn’t always look graceful. Sometimes it’s messy, mobile, and improvised — but it’s still sacred.

If you find yourself in a season of chaos or transition, I hope these words help you recognize the synchronicities in your own path — the subtle ways the Universe whispers, You’re doing fine. Keep going. Or pay attention — here’s the next step.

Every synchronicity, every breath, every quiet yes to life — that’s the body learning to trust and dance with the unseen, one heartbeat at a time, one choice at a time.

With love,
– Hadija (HigherHeartWarriorChannel)