“The Dragging”

Have you been dragged yet?

Strange question, right? I know, but stick with me. I’m not sure how exactly to express the purpose of such a question, but I’m going to do my best to make it nourishing food for thought.

There’s a difference between being dragged physically and being dragged spiritually. I’ve experienced both within myself, especially in the last two years, and I can promise you I’d choose the physical version any day—now that I understand who’s driving. The surface sting of a 3D dragging is far more pleasant than the third degree burn of a 5D one.

That’s the point of this reflection: I had to be dragged, in every sense, so that I could finally recognize who was in control.

Spoiler alert: it’s not me.

When the illusions are stripped away and you’re faced with the raw truth of your journey—nay, the journey—you come to realize that the clichés about control hold more truth than we like to admit; we are never in control of anything except our own reaction to everything we cannot control. Eventually, we all experience some form of “the dragging,” and here is what you would do well to remember—not if, but when it happens to you:

The dragging isn’t punishment for refusing to surrender; it is simply a necessary force to confront what’s been steering your life all along.

Here’s what my most recent experience of “the dragging” taught me:

As we approach a time of what feels like even more uncertainty and difficult transition, whether within ourselves or in the world as a collective unit, it’s crucial to stay grounded in faith and refuse to be pulled into the chaos of external narratives. The world is full of noise and stories designed to scatter our focus, to lower our vibration, and to keep us from seeing the true path ahead. We must be vigilant not only about what we take in, but about what we allow to shape our perspective and choices.

I have learned that chaos doesn’t always arrive with sirens and shouting; sometimes it comes quietly, through the whispers of self-doubt or the persistent push to engage in divisive conversations. It enters our lives disguised as concern, urgency, or even rationality. But behind it lies an intention to fragment our sense of peace and draw us away from clarity.

In the face of chaos, I learned how easy it is to mistake noise for truth and distraction for duty. Recognizing chaos requires cultivating discernment—not everything that demands your attention deserves it. Your job isn’t to control every turn of the vehicle, but to ensure that it stays on course and arrives at its destination intact.

I found that one of the most effective ways to recognize the chaos was to observe my reactions. When I felt pulled toward fear-based stories or overwhelmed by the weight of everything happening in the world, it wasn’t because those stories were inherently true or urgent; it was because I was letting them dictate my energy and focus.

I learned that staying faithful and keeping a high vibration isn’t about dismissing reality or avoiding discomfort. Instead, it’s about actively choosing where to place my energy and being mindful of the narratives I allow into my life. There is power in recognizing that while I cannot control everything that happens externally, I can control what I internalize and how I respond.

This required a shift in perspective—from reacting to choosing. I began filtering the stories, conversations, and even my own thoughts through a simple lens: Is this leading me toward peace or away from it? I recognized that for the world to achieve peace, we must all strive for peace within ourselves. Ultimately, this means embracing intentionality—taking responsibility for my choices, even the small, seemingly insignificant ones that either strengthen or erode my faith over time.

I learned that there is a crucial difference between being pulled by life and surrendering to something greater. When I felt dragged, it was because I was resisting something I didn’t yet understand. The resistance felt like being torn apart, and it was exhausting. But surrender isn’t about giving up; it’s about giving over—releasing my grip on the wheel to let something more profound take the lead.

In surrender, there’s a choice to let go of the illusion of control. This was perhaps the hardest lesson to grasp, especially when my instinct was to tighten my grip in the face of uncertainty. But as I began to trust the process, I realized that surrender isn’t passive—it’s an active commitment to aligning myself with purpose and clarity, even when the road is unclear.

I learned that resilience isn’t a destination; it’s a practice. In the coming days, as the world around us feels increasingly chaotic, it’s more important than ever to remain vigilant and intentional with where we place our energy. The external noise will always be there, trying to pull us off course. But we don’t have to be defined by it. Instead, we can define our path forward by consistently choosing faith over fear, clarity over confusion, and peace over panic.

The path forward is not about perfect steps or unwavering certainty. It’s about continuously realigning with what feels true and right, even when the world seems determined to drag us in every direction. By doing this, we find our balance and maintain our footing, trusting that even when we’re being led somewhere unfamiliar, there’s a deeper purpose at play.

As I reflect on these lessons, I’m reminded that the journey isn’t about reaching a destination free from chaos or confusion, but about learning to trust the unseen driver and remain steady in the seat that’s mine. Life will always have its twists, and the noise around us won’t ever fully disappear, but we have the choice to anchor ourselves in faith and intention. We can choose to let go of the need to control every turn and, instead, focus on how we respond to the journey. In doing so, we cultivate a resilience that isn’t defined by external circumstances, but by an inner alignment with something greater.

And perhaps that’s the real destination: a place where, no matter the storm, we remain unshaken by its winds.