As Above, So Below

I’ve been reflecting, as I regularly do…

Let’s consider the environment.

Chaos on the outside, chaos on the inside.

Calm on the outside, calm on the inside.

Hate on the outside, hate on the inside.

Love on the outside, love on the inside.

This is how it might work for those of us who have experienced the contrast — who know both chaos and calm, hate and love, and can recognise the difference.

But what about those who haven’t?

Those who have only ever known chaos, hate, pain, suffering, and fear?

For them, “as above, so below” isn’t yet a reflection — it’s a distant concept, almost unimaginable.

When the nervous system has only ever known threat, safety feels foreign. When love was absent or unsafe, trust doesn’t come easily. This is the legacy of trauma — particularly complex trauma formed through Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs).

The body learns early that calm can’t be trusted, that quiet might precede danger, and that connection might lead to pain. Fear becomes familiar — and so, when calm appears, the body resists it. It’s not because the person doesn’t want peace, but because peace feels unsafe.

Over time, I began to see how much outside conditioning and programming interferes with our alignment. From childhood messages and cultural expectations to systems that reward productivity over presence, we’re constantly shaped by influences that disconnect us from our truth.

Fear, in particular, disconnects us. It severs the flow between mind, body, and soul — like a hosepipe that’s been kinked or nipped, blocking the water from reaching where it needs to go. In our attempt to survive, we dissociate, shutting down parts of ourselves to avoid suffering. But that same mechanism that once protected us can later become the very thing that prevents healing.

For many years, when I worked directly with clients, I used to take them to the quiet grounds of a local priory. It was a peaceful, sacred place — still, safe, filled with birdsong and open sky. But what I noticed was profound: I could often gauge the depth of trauma by how long someone could simply sit in silence.

For most, it was no more than three minutes before the body began to react — stimming, shaking, rocking, fidgeting, crying, panicking. Their nervous systems could not yet tolerate stillness. Silence felt threatening. Calm triggered chaos.

That experience taught me, again and again, that trauma lives in the body — and it shapes our thoughts from the bottom up, not the other way around. We can’t think our way to safety; we have to feel our way there. Healing begins not with logic, but with the body learning that it is no longer in danger.

For those with complex trauma, this isn’t achieved in a single visit or through a one-off experience of calm. It requires gentle repetition — inviting them back to that calm space over and over again. Each visit creates a new comparison: chaos versus calm, tension versus release, fear versus safety.

Over time, these repeated moments begin to rewire the body’s understanding. What was once foreign starts to become familiar. Eventually, they begin to take the reins and move forward themselves — not because they were told to, but because their nervous system finally feels the difference.

This is where TRUST becomes essential.

T – Trigger recognition

R – Reassurance

U – Understanding

S – Safety

T – Truth

The Trauma-Informed TRUST Framework isn’t a tick-box exercise or a ‘nice thing to have’. It’s purposeful. It’s intentional. And it’s desperately needed. It represents the steady bridge between survival and safety — between knowing fear and learning peace.

So how can “as above, so below” become a reality for someone who has only ever known fear and suffering?

How does a body that has never felt safe learn to trust safety?

This is the lifelong work of trauma recovery. Alignment doesn’t come through striving or forcing calm. It begins with gentle awareness — the smallest moments of safety, repeated often.

A steady breath.

A kind gaze.

A tone of voice that doesn’t demand.

A space where the body isn’t braced for impact.

These moments may seem insignificant, but they are everything. They are the entry points to realignment.

When the nervous system begins to feel safe — even for seconds at a time — the mind starts to open. The body begins to soften. The soul starts to remember what peace feels like.

For those who have lived on guard, constantly predicting and pre-empting the worst, this process takes immense patience and compassion — both from themselves and from those who walk beside them.

So how do we reach to teach?

Not through correction, and not through preaching calm to those who have never felt it.

We reach through embodiment.

We teach by becoming the example — by holding consistent compassion, modelling regulation, and creating spaces where calm is felt, not enforced. When survivors are met with presence instead of pressure, their nervous system begins to sense that safety might be possible.

“As above, so below” isn’t a rule or ideal to attain — it’s a rhythm that re-emerges when the mind, body, and soul are no longer at war. When we align the internal and external, Heaven and Earth, reality and perception, we rediscover the flow that trauma once interrupted.

It’s not instant. It’s not easy. But it’s possible — one safe breath at a time.

So I wonder… where are you on your own journey of “as above, so below”?

What does alignment look and feel like for you — in your mind, your body, and your soul?