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Most of the time, change feels to us like something Sisyphean -

something we would rather avoid, or even resent.

 

A last resort,

after we’ve already tried everything else.

 

And if we do engage in it,

we narrow its scope to the most specific and controlled form possible.

 

I believe this experience of change stems from the idea

that change is a tool designed to provide reassurance

for the image we hold of ourselves.

 

We’ve created a structure we wish to anchor,

and in our attempt to grant that structure a sense of stability,

we accept only those changes that reinforce its preservation.

 

Thus, each change stands isolated -

serving an external purpose for the structure’s continuity.

 

Such change is a miniature reflection of the other elements

that sustain the entire construct.

 

The construct itself is made of segments of constraint, tightening, and holding -

and that is why losing it feels painful.

 

It is made of unprocessed, displaced fear.

An ex-territory designed to preserve artificial,

finite borders within the infinite field of reality.

 

When every part of it is "directed",

it requires constant control -

to ensure that no element "collapses by accident".

 

If we examine this feeling closely,

we can sense how much pain it holds,

how much avoidance and resistance it conceals -

all the parts we try to deny.

 

Out of necessity, we have "had to" draw conclusions

in order to adapt to the difficulties we’ve faced.

 

Yet from wherever we stand,

we can see that the construct - with all we’ve built upon it -

serves a deeper purpose that holds a hidden wisdom:

a condensed expression of our greater wholeness,

being a derivation of the whole that we are.

 

When our orientation shifts toward well-being

in alignment with inner integrity,

change ceases to be forced or fragmentary -

and becomes holistic.

 

What does that mean?

That what once felt Sisyphean - no longer does.

 

Because it is no longer experienced as an external struggle

that manages us, 

but as something coherent, arising from within.

 

Let’s imagine, for instance, a hand deprived of blood flow.

It is connected to us - yet we have no access to it.

 

If we try to revive it by painting it red

or dressing its fingers in little caps,

it may become a display -

but we will not truly be able to use it.

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We would only remain busy maintaining the illusion.

 

All our resources would be devoted to the hand on the verge of becoming a stump - until it eventually does.

 

And even afterwards,

we would still try to compensate

for what we never wished to lose,

yet never managed to stay connected to.

 

It is understandable, then,

why we feel exhausted, in pain, and resistant to change.

 

But when the hand regains its flow,

it becomes spontaneous, free, and undirected -

because it is a living extension of the whole autonomy.

 

That is holistic change.

 

Change that arises naturally from the inner experience

which perceives through the lens of well-being and integrity -

connected, communicative, and self-nourishing.

 

A woven totality of freedom and harmony,

because the spaces it lives within

are not confined by artificial boundaries.

 

The Holistic Health approach offers a way to reconnect with ourselves

not through grand gestures,

but through the everyday -

where change becomes a living and dynamic expression of our understanding.

 

Thus, there is alignment between where we are and what we experience, and no hidden duality.

 

When we are gentle with ourselves,

we envelop reality -

and it envelops us in return.