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We live in a culture obsessed with forward motion. Faster, higher, better — as if life were meant to be a straight road leading somewhere final and triumphant.

But nature, soul, and healing move differently.

Growth is not a ladder we climb. It is a spiral — a sacred, ancient pattern of return, renewal, and deeper remembrance.

What Is Spiral Growth?

Spiral growth is the process of evolving by revisiting familiar wounds, lessons, and patterns — but meeting them from a new place each time.

It is not failure. It is not starting over.

It is a natural movement of integration.

Spiral growth reminds us:

• You are not broken because an old ache rises again.
• You are not failing because a fear still whispers.
• You are moving deeper into yourself — into wholeness that was never lost, only self-forgotten.

We See it In Myth

Our oldest stories know the spiral well.

• Inanna’s descent into the underworld and return is not an error — it is initiation.
• Persephone’s annual journey into the dark reminds us that light and shadow are part of the same dance.
• Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey traces a full circle — departure, descent, ordeal, return.
• Sharon Blackie and Maureen Murdock, in their work on the Heroine’s Journey, show that healing, especially for women and marginalized identities, often means a deeper spiral inward — a return to self after exile into performance and expectation.

Each myth teaches:

Descent is not the opposite of growth. It is how growth ripens.

We See it In Nature

Everywhere we look, nature spirals:

• Shells curl into themselves as they grow.
• Rivers meander rather than race.
• Seasons turn and return, never quite the same.

Nature does not rush to a finish line.

She deepens. She matures. She renews.

We See it In Psychology and Neuroscience

Depth psychology honours the spiral:

• Jung spoke of individuation as a lifelong circling toward the Self.
• James Hillman reminds us that soul-making is found not in linear ascent but in the richness of revisiting, reliving, and reshaping our inner worlds.

Neuroscience confirms it:

• Dan Siegel teaches that integration — the heart of a healthy mind — happens not all at once, but through returning to, and gently reworking, past experiences.
• Peter Levine shows that trauma healing requires circling slowly around old pain, not pushing through it.

Our brains crave linear hits of dopamine from external rewards, which can trick us into thinking growth should be fast and forward only. But real change — the kind that lasts — comes from within, slowly, looping, deepening with every cycle.

How Spiral Growth Feels (and Why It Can Be So Confusing)

We can feel bewildered when old wounds resurface:

• The same insecurity about being seen.
• The same anger that flares up unexpectedly.
• The same old grief that tightens the chest.

It can feel like nothing has changed.

But look closer:

• Maybe you pause before reacting.
• Maybe you speak your needs sooner.
• Maybe you hold yourself with more tenderness.
• Maybe you reach out instead of shutting down.

You are not back where you started.

The terrain may look familiar, but you are carrying a deeper map now.

You are moving through — and with — yourself differently.

This is spiral growth.

A Story from the Spiral

For most of my life, I’ve circled around the wounds of not fitting in.

Of being “too much,” “too weird,” “too sensitive.”

I thought I could outrun these wounds. New towns, new countries, new jobs, new communities — surely, if I just reinvented myself enough times, I’d find a place where they couldn’t follow. But they always did.

Because wounds aren’t just reactions to environments — they are patterns woven into the psyche. They travel with us until we turn and face them.

Now, for the first time, I live somewhere I’ve stayed longer than anywhere else — even longer than any place from my childhood, when constant moves were a way of life.

Here, in the stillness, the old feelings rise again. The tug toward isolation. The fear of being misunderstood. The dance between honouring my sacred introversion and noticing when I am hiding.

It is not the first time I have faced these wounds. But it is different now.

I can feel the small shifts:

• The softness where before there was only defense.
• The curiosity where before there was shame.
• The willingness to stay, even when it trembles.

I am still in the spiral. Still shedding, still remembering, still choosing.

And maybe — maybe — healing isn’t about reaching some perfect state.

Maybe it’s about learning to walk the spiral with grace.

Maybe some wounds never fully vanish.

Maybe they simply transform into something sacred: a deeper intimacy with ourselves.

Practices for Trusting the Spiral

1. Following the Feeling

🌿 Step outside — or close your eyes and imagine a place in nature you know well.

Let yourself be drawn toward a spot that feels slightly unfamiliar or mysterious — a hollow, a curve in the path, a shadowed grove.

Stand or sit there and ask:

• What part of me feels hesitant here?
• Is this discomfort deadening — or alive?
• If I stayed here longer, what might I learn about myself?

No pushing. Just presence.

2. Somatic Practice: Embracing the Spiral

🌿 Try this when you feel stuck, like you’ve been here before:

• Find a quiet space. Let your body rest.
• Think of something you’ve been circling — an old feeling, a familiar struggle.
• Where do you feel it in your body? Place your hands there.
• Begin a gentle circular motion with your hands. As if stirring a pot. Or drawing a spiral on your skin.
• No need to fix. Just feel. Let the movement invite the feeling to move — not to escape, but to be witnessed.
• Whisper to yourself:

“I’ve been here before. But I am not the same.”

This practice honours the spiral.

It says: Nothing is wrong with me for feeling this again.

It’s not about control.

It’s about relationship.

The Myth We Are Living

We are not here to win healing like a prize.

We are here to live it — to move through the descents and ascents, the deaths and rebirths, the forgetting and remembering.

The myths remind us: We are meant to circle back. To gather what was left behind. To weave ourselves whole — not in some future perfection, but in the sacred imperfection of today.

The spiral is not a flaw in the design. It is the design.

And every time we return to an old place with new eyes, we are practicing a deeper form of belonging — to ourselves, to each other, to life itself.

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🐾 Let’s Talk

🌿 What wounds or patterns do you find yourself circling back to?

🌿 How do you notice when something has shifted?

🌿 What myths, stories, or symbols help you trust your spiral journey?

Share your reflections in the comments —

let’s keep building a braver, wilder world together, one story at a time.