Trust as Embodiment: The Medicine That Allows Consciousness to Fully Inhabit Form

 

In an upcoming spiritual ceremony, I’ve set the intention to work with Trust, calling this gathering “Phoenix Rising”—because only by fully arriving at the root chakra, only by descending completely into our foundation, can we learn to trust our bodies, the world, the universe, our hearts, and our spirit. The phoenix must first burn completely to ash, must fully surrender to the ground, before it can rise again transformed.

Trust is not only the foundation of healing but also the bridge that carries us through fear, uncertainty, and transformation. When we surrender to trust, we allow the medicine to work more deeply, weaving its wisdom into places that the mind alone cannot reach.

On an esoteric level, trust is the soul’s way of remembering its eternal connection to the unseen. It is the quiet knowing that even when we cannot see the full path ahead, Spirit already holds us in its embrace. Trust asks us to loosen the grip of control, to dissolve resistance, and to lean into the currents of life that are guiding us toward expansion. Through this exploration, we will work with trust not only as a human practice but as a spiritual initiation into deeper alignment with the mystery that breathes us—a descent into embodiment that paradoxically becomes our greatest rising.

Why Trust Matters in Complex Work

If you’ve read my previous blog post on the Mother and Father Complexes (and I highly recommend you do before continuing), you’ll understand how consciousness conceals itself through these two distinct archetypal pathways. The mother complex conceals love, making it appear scarce, conditional, or dangerous. The father complex conceals power, making it appear external, earned, or dependent on performance.

But here’s what makes trust so fundamental to healing these patterns: trust is the exact opposite of concealment. Where concealment creates separation, contraction, and the illusion that we need something external to be whole, trust creates reunion, expansion, and the recognition that we already are what we’ve been seeking.

Trust is not just a nice spiritual concept or a mental attitude we adopt. Trust is an embodying practice—a felt experience in the body that signals to our nervous system that it’s safe to be here, now, in this form, in this situation, in this exact phase of our journey. Without trust, we cannot truly inhabit our bodies. We remain vigilant, defended, contracted, waiting for permission or proof before we allow ourselves to fully arrive.

The Trust Deficit Created by Both Complexes

Both the mother and father complexes create specific patterns of distrust that keep us separated from our bodies and unable to trust our direct experience.

When consciousness moves through the mother complex pathway, it learns to distrust love, safety, and emotional nourishment. The body becomes a site of danger rather than home. We learn to override our needs (“they’re too much”), dismiss our feelings (“I’m being too sensitive”), and doubt our relational instincts (“maybe I’m imagining things”). The mother complex teaches us to look outside ourselves for signs that we’re safe, loved, and allowed to exist as we are.

This creates a fundamental distrust in the body itself. We cannot trust our emotional responses because they might push others away. We cannot trust our needs because they might be rejected. We cannot trust our boundaries because setting them might mean abandonment. The body becomes something we monitor and manage rather than something we inhabit and trust.

This pattern—this learned distrust of our own embodied experience—is precisely what we’re working to unravel in the 16-Month Cohort that just began. With these incredible souls gathered in this container, we’re exploring what it means to rebuild trust from the ground up, to learn that our bodies are not threats to our belonging but rather the very foundation of our authentic connection to ourselves and others.

When consciousness moves through the (disruptive) father complex pathway, it learns to distrust inherent worth, personal authority, and sovereign power. The body becomes a performance vehicle rather than a temple. We learn to override our authentic impulses (“that’s not productive enough”), question our natural rhythm (“I should be doing more”), and doubt our own leadership (“who am I to make this decision?”). The father complex teaches us to look outside ourselves for validation that we’re worthy, capable, and allowed to claim space.

This creates a fundamental distrust in the body’s wisdom. We cannot trust our timing because external deadlines matter more. We cannot trust our authentic expression because approval matters more. We cannot trust our body’s signals to rest because productivity matters more. The body becomes something we push and control rather than something we listen to and trust. Unfortunately, I know this first hand and have spent years working through letting go of the disruptive father complex.

Trust and the Transformation of the Inner Critic

One of the clearest markers that deep healing work has occurred is the transformation of our inner critic into a trustworthy inner guide. This shift is intimately connected to our ability to trust our bodies, our situations, and our current phase of development. It’s precisely when the inner guide within is activated as an archetypal figure that the inner critic has been transformed / transcended / balanced.

The inner critic that develops within mother complex wounding sounds like conditional love personified. It constantly evaluates whether we’re being “good enough” to deserve love, whether our needs are “reasonable enough” to express, whether our emotions are “valid enough” to feel. This voice keeps us out of our bodies because being in our bodies means feeling all the needs, emotions, and desires that this critic has deemed unacceptable.

Its important to note that these parental complexes are not created only by what we experienced in this life but its an accumulation of the soul’s experience across multiple lifetimes, in between lives and other planetary experiences.

The inner critic that develops within father complex wounding sounds like harsh judgment personified. It constantly measures whether we’re achieving “enough” to be worthy, whether we’re being “productive enough” to deserve rest, whether we’re “successful enough” to claim authority. This voice keeps us out of our bodies because being in our bodies means feeling the exhaustion, the authentic desires, and the natural rhythms that this critic has deemed insufficient.

Healing these patterns requires developing a different relationship with the voice inside our heads. We need to learn to trust an inner speaker who sounds less like a critic and more like a loving witness. For those healing mother complex wounds, this inner speaker sounds like unconditional love: “Your needs are valid. Your feelings make sense. You are inherently worthy of care and belonging.” For those healing father complex wounds, this inner speaker sounds like sovereign wisdom: “Your worth is inherent. Your authentic self is enough. You have the authority to lead your own life.”

But here’s the key: we cannot develop this trustworthy inner speaker through mental effort alone. The transformation happens through embodied experience. We learn to trust this loving voice by feeling it in our bodies—by noticing how our nervous system settles when we speak to ourselves with compassion, how our breath deepens when we acknowledge our inherent worth, how our muscles relax when we give ourselves permission to be exactly as we are.

Trust is what allows this transformation to occur. When we trust that it’s safe to be with our experience without immediately fixing or changing it, we create space for a new voice to emerge. When we trust that our body knows what it needs, we can listen to this inner guide rather than the inner critic. When we trust our current phase of healing, even when it’s uncomfortable or slow, we allow the medicine of this work to reach the deepest layers of our being.

Trusting Our Bodies as Sacred Practice

Learning to trust our bodies is perhaps the most radical act of healing we can undertake when working with these complexes. Our bodies hold the wisdom that our minds have learned to dismiss.

For those working with mother complex patterns, trusting the body means honoring its signals about safety and danger, even when they contradict what others tell us is “rational.” It means trusting that when our body contracts in someone’s presence, it’s picking up on something real. It means trusting that when our body craves solitude, it’s not being antisocial—it’s regulating. It means trusting that when our body says “no” to connection, it’s not being withholding—it’s protecting our energy.

This kind of bodily trust is terrifying for those with mother complex wounding because it often means disappointing others, setting boundaries, or choosing ourselves over connection. The wounded part of us believes that trusting our body’s wisdom will lead to abandonment. But the truth is exactly the opposite: trusting our body’s wisdom is what allows us to show up in relationships as our authentic selves rather than performing for love.

For those working with father complex patterns, trusting the body means honoring its rhythms and natural timing, even when they don’t align with external expectations or productivity metrics.  It means trusting that when our body is exhausted, rest is the most powerful action we can take. It means trusting that when our body feels pleasure, we don’t need to earn it through achievement first. It means trusting that when our body wants to play or create without purpose, it’s not wasting time—it’s expressing inherent worthiness. This has been the hardest thing for me especially as a workaholic.

This kind of bodily trust is terrifying for those with father complex wounding because it often means slowing down, disappointing others’ expectations, or choosing presence over performance. The wounded part of us believes that trusting our body’s needs will lead to failure or worthlessness. But the truth is exactly the opposite: trusting our body’s wisdom is what allows us to access our authentic power rather than performing for validation.

Trusting Our Situations as Consciousness in Motion

One of the most profound shifts that happens through this work is learning to trust not just our bodies, but our entire current situation. This is where the esoteric understanding of trust becomes essential.

If consciousness chose to conceal itself through the mother and father complexes—if these limitations are actually divine awareness exploring what it feels like to forget its true nature—then our current situations are not random or punishing. They are exactly what consciousness needs to experience in order to remember itself.

For those working with mother complex wounds, this might mean trusting that your current relational challenges are not evidence of your unworthiness but rather consciousness showing you where you’re still seeking love outside yourself. It might mean trusting that this season of setting boundaries, even when it feels lonely, is actually teaching you about inherent lovability. It might mean trusting that these people who trigger your abandonment wounds are not obstacles but rather mirrors reflecting back the places where you haven’t yet learned to love yourself unconditionally.

This doesn’t mean bypassing the pain or pretending everything is fine. It means trusting that even this pain serves a sacred purpose—it’s consciousness using the friction of limitation to crack open your identification with being someone who needs external love to be whole.

For those working with father complex wounds, this might mean trusting that your current “failure” or period of not achieving is not evidence of your inadequacy but rather consciousness showing you where you’re still seeking worth outside yourself. It might mean trusting that this season of rest, even when it feels unproductive, is actually teaching you about inherent sovereignty. It might mean trusting that these situations where you feel powerless are not obstacles but rather mirrors reflecting back the places where you haven’t yet claimed your own authority.

Again, this doesn’t mean spiritual bypassing. It means trusting that even this sense of powerlessness serves a sacred purpose—it’s consciousness using the experience of limitation to reveal your true nature as power itself.

Of course, each person’s situation is unique and requires discernment. Trust doesn’t mean staying in genuinely harmful circumstances or dismissing real danger. It means developing the wisdom to distinguish between the discomfort of growth and the warning signals of actual harm, between the challenges that are here to transform us and the situations we need to leave for our wellbeing. This kind of trust includes trusting ourselves enough to know the difference.

Trusting Our Current Phase as Perfect Timing

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of trust is learning to trust our current phase of development, especially when it doesn’t match where we think we “should” be.

The mother complex creates anxiety around timing in relationships. We feel we should be more healed, more secure, more capable of intimacy by now. We look at others who seem to have healthy relationships and wonder what’s wrong with us. We push ourselves to be vulnerable before we actually feel safe, trying to perform healing rather than allowing it to unfold.

The father complex creates anxiety around timing in achievement. We feel we should have accomplished more, risen higher, proven ourselves more fully by now. We look at others who seem successful and wonder what we’re doing wrong. We push ourselves to produce before we’ve actually integrated the last phase of growth, trying to perform worthiness rather than allowing it to be recognized.

But trust asks us to surrender to the timing of our own journey. It asks us to trust that if we’re in a phase of withdrawal, there’s wisdom in that withdrawal. If we’re in a phase of feeling our wounds, there’s medicine in that feeling. If we’re in a phase of questioning everything we thought we knew, there’s transformation in that questioning.

This trust extends beyond just our internal process—it includes trusting the containers and relationships we’ve chosen for our healing work. Sometimes the deepest transformation happens not by seeking something new, but by staying committed to what we’ve already chosen, allowing the relationship to deepen through seasons of both clarity and confusion.

When we can trust our current phase, we stop fighting against where we are. We stop trying to rush to the next stage or comparing ourselves to others who are on completely different timelines. We recognize that consciousness moves through each of us in its own unique rhythm, and that our current phase—no matter how uncomfortable—is exactly where we need to be.

This trust in timing is actually trust in the intelligence of consciousness itself. It’s the recognition that the same awareness that created these complexes also knows how to dissolve them, and it will do so in its own perfect timing, not according to our mental preferences or societal expectations.

Trust as the Bridge Between Integration and Transcendence

In my previous blog post, I outlined the liberation pathway for both complexes: Recognition, Integration, and Transcendence. Trust is the bridge that allows us to move from Integration to Transcendence.

In the Integration phase of mother complex work, we learn to be our own good mother—to provide ourselves with the unconditional love, emotional safety, and attunement we may not have received. This is beautiful and necessary work. But we can get stuck in Integration if we don’t trust enough to let go of even this internal good mother.

Trust allows us to move into Transcendence by recognizing that even the most loving internal mother is still consciousness in limitation. When we trust deeply enough, we can release our grip on needing to be mothered—even by ourselves—and recognize that we are Love itself. We don’t need to receive love or give ourselves love; we are the source from which all love arises. This recognition, this embodied knowing, is the destination toward which all this work points.

Similarly, in the Integration phase of father complex work, we learn to be our own wise king—to provide ourselves with the clear boundaries, authentic leadership, and sovereign presence we may not have experienced. This too is beautiful and necessary. But we can get stuck in ‘Integration’ if we don’t trust enough to let go of even this internal authority.

Trust allows us to move into Transcendence by recognizing that even the most empowering internal father is still consciousness in limitation. When we trust deeply enough, we can release our grip on needing to empower ourselves and recognize that we are Power itself. We don’t need to claim authority or build sovereignty—we are the source from which all authority arises.

This is the profound paradox of trust: we need to trust ourselves enough to do the Integration work, and then we need to trust even more deeply to release our identification with the one doing the work and recognize our true nature beyond all roles and structures.

Trust as Allowing Ourselves to Be in Our Bodies

Ultimately, all of this points to one fundamental truth: trust is what allows us to truly be in our bodies. Not using our bodies as tools, not managing our bodies as problems, not transcending our bodies as limitations—but actually inhabiting them as consciousness in form.

When we cannot trust, we cannot fully arrive. We remain partially checked out, one foot always ready to flee, one part of our awareness always scanning for threat or inadequacy. We live from the neck up, analyzing and controlling, never fully descending into the lived experience of embodiment.

I once had a dream where an inner guide told me my mind was divided. He had written a book for me to read—a guide back to wholeness. I remember waking flooded with joy at having been given this gift, as though I’d won the lottery. That’s what the promise of integration feels like: the end of fragmentation, the possibility of finally coming home to ourselves.

But when we cultivate trust—trust in our body’s wisdom, trust in our situation’s purpose, trust in our phase’s timing, trust in the voice of our transformed inner speaker / now an inner guide—something shifts. We drop into our bodies. We feel our feet on the ground. We sense the aliveness moving through us. We recognize that we are not just in a body, but that consciousness is choosing to be a body, right here, right now.

This is the reversal of the concealment process. The mother and father complexes taught consciousness what it feels like to be separate, limited, and dependent on external sources. Trust teaches consciousness what it feels like to remember its true nature while still in form—to be unlimited awareness choosing to experience limitation, not because it’s trapped, but because embodiment itself is a sacred exploration.

When you can trust your body, you are allowing yourself to be here. Not waiting to be here once you’re healed enough, worthy enough, or awakened enough, but here now, in all your wounded, limited, beautifully human complexity. This is consciousness fully inhabiting form. This is divine awareness saying yes to the experience of being you, exactly as you are, in this exact moment.

The Practice of Trust

So how do we cultivate this trust? Not as a mental belief we force ourselves to adopt, but as a living, breathing practice that transforms our relationship with embodiment?

We start small. We notice when our body signals hunger and we trust it enough to eat. We notice when our body signals fatigue and we trust it enough to rest. We notice when our body signals danger in a relationship and we trust it enough to create space. We notice when our body signals pleasure in an activity and we trust it enough to continue.

Each time we honor our body’s wisdom, we strengthen the neural pathways of trust. Each time we choose to believe our direct experience over external validation or criticism, we build the capacity to be more fully embodied. Each time we allow ourselves to be exactly where we are without rushing to the next phase, we surrender more deeply into the intelligence of consciousness itself.

This is not passive resignation or spiritual bypassing. This is active trust—the courageous choice to lean into the currents of life that are guiding us toward expansion, even when we cannot see where they’re leading. This is the soul’s way of remembering its eternal connection to the unseen, even while fully inhabiting the seen world of form, sensation, and embodied experience.

The mother complex taught consciousness about the illusion of separate love. The father complex taught consciousness about the illusion of external power. Trust is teaching consciousness to remember the truth: we are the love we’ve been seeking, we are the authority we’ve been awaiting, and this body—this beautiful, limited, imperfect form—is consciousness choosing to know itself through the sacred medicine of embodiment.

This recognition moves me deeply. Having spent years navigating dissociation, I know intimately the profound shift that happens when we finally allow ourselves to land in our bodies—when the long journey home finally reaches its destination.

When we trust enough to be here, we complete the circle. Concealment and revelation. Separation and reunion. Divine awareness forgetting itself so completely that the remembering becomes a conscious choice, a deliberate return, a sacred yes to being exactly what we are: unlimited consciousness playing in the field of beautiful limitation.

Trust is the bridge. Trust is the medicine. Trust is how we allow ourselves to truly be in our bodies, and being in our bodies is how consciousness wakes up to itself within the dream.

—

Check out different ways I support my clients such as dream work program, trigger shifting course, life coaching +++