Treating Everything as Sacred

When fear becomes a mirror

Songs to listen to:

• Soul Flower - Remix — The Pharcyde

• People Everyday — Arrested Development

• Flute Loop — Beastie Boys

• Lovely Day — Bill Withers

• White Rabbit — Jefferson Airplane

• Clint Eastwood — Gorillaz, Del The Funky Homosapien

• Everybody Loves the Sunshine — Roy Ayers

• Running Away - 12-Inch Long Version — Roy Ayers Ubiquity

The Loop of Fear

When we fear the people around us, we’re often not actually afraid of them — we’re afraid of what they reflect back. The external becomes a stage for our internal unhealed wounds: childhood rejection, past betrayals, moments when we learned that safety wasn’t guaranteed.

That fear becomes a frequency. It hums in our field, whispering to the world, “stay away, I might hurt or be hurt.”

The world listens.

And suddenly, people pull back, eye contact falters, conversations feel tense — and the loop begins.

The external world mirrors the fear of our internal world.

Confidence in Frequency

We’re taught that confidence is about charm or posture — but real confidence lives in vibration. It’s the quiet trust that whoever appears on your path has been sent by divine timing.

When you trust your own frequency, you no longer need to control the room. You don’t need to pick and choose who deserves your openness. You know that the people crossing your orbit are sacred appointments — each one arriving with a message, a reflection, a gift.

Confidence isn’t about walking into a space thinking you’re the best. It’s about walking in knowing you’re aligned.

Healing the Mirror

Every fearful reaction from the world is an invitation:

Where am I still afraid to be seen?

Where have I abandoned trust in life itself?

As we soften towards these questions, the mirror softens too. Our energy begins to say: “It’s safe to be close.”

The more we treat every encounter as holy — even the awkward, the uncomfortable, the strange — the more our world starts responding with warmth and wonder.

The Sacred Everyday

The other night, I found a tiny ice-cream toy on the ground. I smiled, picked it up, and ended up walking to an actual ice-cream shop. Behind the counter were a group of teenagers, full of shy sweetness and curiosity.

As they handed me my cone, I had this flash of recognition — I was them once. A teenager working in an ice-cream shop, learning how to greet the world with a smile even when I didn’t always feel safe doing it. In that moment, I felt the circle close.

I realised we were giving and receiving from our own timelines — me offering presence and gentleness from experience, them offering lightness and possibility from youth. No one above or below. Just exchange.

That’s the thing: when you treat every object, every face, every coincidence as sacred, life starts to move with you. You become porous to miracles.

The sacred doesn’t wait for the perfect mood or place — it shows up in discarded toys, shared smiles, and the hum of ice-cream freezers on warm nights.

The Halloween Lesson

This same evening, I went to a Halloween party — not with people my age, but with a group of fifty-year-olds who dance like teenagers. They're new friends I met when Ace and I were out playing a game of pool recently. When we were invited to their kid's Halloween party, it could have been easy to pull back, to feel out of place or guarded. But we trusted the assignment.

On our walk down Creep Street, which turns out is a huge cultural event in Coogee, we saw so many kids and parents playing and commenting on each other's outfits. Young girls kept stopping me to tell me they loved my sparkly outfit. It warmed my heart in a way I can't really describe. And as we reached the destination of our new friends' Halloween Party, we were of course laughing within five minutes, swapping stories, and dancing to American Idiot by Green Day. There was no separation, no hierarchy — just people having fun.

Just like with the teens at the ice-cream shop, I realised we were all giving and receiving from where we stood. They offered wisdom, humour, and presence; Ace and I brought curiosity, joy, and openness. It was balance — the exchange of lived experience and open eyes.

That night reminded me that when you drop fear and meet life with reverence, every environment becomes holy ground. Every person becomes kin. Age, class, background — none of it matters when you treat your vibration as sacred.

Community as Reflection

When we heal our relationship with fear, we don’t just heal ourselves — we heal the field. The collective energy shifts. The people around us start to feel safer too. We start smiling more easily. Strangers relax in our presence. Communities reopen to connection.

Treating everything as sacred doesn’t mean naïvety — it means trust. Trust that you can discern, but also stay open. Trust that the universe knows who to send you, and when.

Transmutation Practice

As author Carolyn Elliott writes in Existential Kink (2019), drawing from Tibetan Buddhist teachings on Tonglen —

“Tonglen means ‘taking and sending.’ It’s a practice of taking in the pain of other people and sending out happiness, good fortune, and good wishes. It’s a tantric practice because tantra is all about the transformation of energy. In this way, tantra is identical with alchemy.”

In Buddhist practice, Tonglen isn’t about fixing or forcing—it’s about allowing energy to move through you differently. Pain becomes breath. Breath becomes space.

If you want to try it:

Breathe in the heaviness—yours, theirs, the collective ache.

Let it sit in your chest until it softens.

Exhale light—compassion, calm, a quiet kind of love.

Not to erase what’s there, but to change your relationship to it.

Every breath becomes a gentle reminder that we’re all in this together.

I trust that every moment is divinely arranged.

I meet my reflections with compassion.

I treat everything — and everyone — as sacred.

And if all the mystical talk doesn’t land, that’s okay.

What I really mean is this:

Let’s play like kids again. Let’s stay open. Let’s have fun.