There is a side of lightwork that is rarely spoken about. Not the healing, not the radiant, but the raw and quiet part that becomes tangible when your light shines too brightly for another. I’ve
been experiencing this again recently. People who once felt close—neighbors, friends, sometimes even clients—suddenly pull away. Without explanation. Without a conversation. As if, overnight,
you’ve become invisible.
You find yourself excluded, without communication, as if you no longer matter. It’s a strange kind of silence. You sense something hanging in the air—a subtle hardening, a closed door. And you
know exactly what it is.
Then comes the realization: you are being excluded, not for what you’ve done, but for who you are.
Ouch. That hurts.
It is a deep pain, touching something ancient—the memory of not being understood for your light, your softness, your truth.
It is the loneliness that accompanies consciousness that stretches beyond the words others are able to hold.
The further you grow, the more often it happens.
You think you’ll be rewarded for your devotion to inner growth, but no—that’s not how it works.
Instead, others with lesser awareness may judge you more harshly.
And yet… each time I feel I must not harden.
No, I don’t want that.
It doesn’t belong to my sensitive, loving heart.
❥ I don’t need to mirror the walls of others with my own walls.
I don’t need to build them up again. But I may set boundaries when something doesn’t feel right.
My soul’s work is to stay open, even when it hurts.
To not close my heart, even if that seems safer.
Because if I close my heart to others, I close it to myself as well.
You can’t choose selectively: open for this, closed for that.
Closed is closed.
Sometimes I cry. I allow the pain in my heart and body to be felt.
I cry for the humanity of loss and unfairness—for yet another door shut, another gaze turned away, another story written by someone else in which I have no place.
And then I breathe that pain back into myself until it softens again.
Until it dissolves into understanding and becomes neutral.
Over and over.
Year after year.
No, this process doesn’t end.
But each time, it leaves more callus on my soul—and more compassion for others.
Because I know what’s happening.
❥ My energy mirrors what in the other cannot yet exist in light.
My presence calls forth memory, movement, awareness. That can feel uncomfortable.
And so, some would rather turn away than turn inward and face their own healing.
Each time, I am invited to absorb this—not as punishment, but as an invitation to root even deeper in myself.
I may not yet see the purpose of it, but I trust there is one. For the light that works through me does not ask to be recognized. It only asks me to remain true to its nature, its vibration, and
its consciousness from the soul.
And somewhere deep inside, peace returns.
The earth beneath me breathes. The field opens. And I know: I am not alone.
Yes, this path can feel deeply lonely.
But I am carried by something greater than judgment.
Something that always calls me back, softly, to love—the unconditional, all-surpassing love.
It teaches me not to feel anger toward others, nor to respond in kind.
It teaches me to remain in my silence, in my feeling, to wait until I have processed it once more.
It teaches me to heal myself, to stay true to myself, to not doubt who I am.
It teaches me to know my heart, and my soul.
I allow the fire it awakens not to consume me, but to lift me—into transition, like a phoenix rising.
So, to those who recognize themselves in this: you are not alone.
Stay in your heart. Stay true to your light, even if no one understands it, sees it, or even if you are cast aside in hostility.
You do not need to prove yourself, or explain.
You do not need to enter another’s story in order to be seen.
You do not need to make anything right.
❥ The only thing asked of you is to remain present.
Clear. Silent. True. Neutral.
The pain grows lighter each time.
It doesn’t make you harder—it makes you gentler.
Because in the end, everything that now turns away will one day return to the light from which it came.
I accept my fate, my role in this great weaving. I accept my soul’s calling, and that I am different from most who walk this beautiful Earth. I will live out my part, and I will not let my heart break from the painful experiences that come to me a few times each year.
From heart to heart,
🤍
Tamara Beekmans
www.vrouwenkrachtacademie.nl