Mimicry

Growing up, we have little choice but to absorb the patterns and behaviors we are surrounded by. As children, imitation is how we survive, connect, and learn. Later in life, many of these same patterns continue almost automatically, not because they are true or aligned, but because they are familiar. Repetition becomes comfort.

But what happens when we begin to question why we do things the way we do? What happens when a quiet longing arises to know who we truly are, separate from the conditioning of the past, and rooted instead in present-moment awareness?

One of the practices that helped me loosen my attachment to inherited patterns was intentionally engaging my creativity and imagination. I am currently writing a fantasy novel, and the process has opened entirely new ways of perceiving, being, and relating to the world. These perspectives may never have revealed themselves had I not consciously chosen to expand my awareness through creative exploration.

In one scene of my book, a group of Animal Spirits are playing freely together, joyful and unrestrained. Suddenly, someone arrives seeking guidance, carrying a heavier, denser energy. The play stops. A few of the Animal Spirits sigh in a resigned, almost weary way. One of them speaks:

“Alright everyone, you know the drill. Take your totem forms so they can recognize us. Hold the energy steady so it doesn’t disrupt their process.”

As they shift into rigid totem positions, their free-flowing energy becomes compressed and constrained. It is uncomfortable for them, yet they hold this form until the visitor leaves. Once the interaction ends, they release the structure, shake it off, and return to play, lightness, and ease.

When this scene emerged through my intuitive writing, it stopped me. It invited reflection. Are there ways I ask others, consciously or unconsciously, to hold themselves in a certain form around me? Are there moments when rigidity, roles, or expectations limit the natural flow of connection, especially within spiritual or healing spaces?

This insight didn’t come from analysis or effort, but from imagination. From allowing creativity to lead rather than logic. I am deeply grateful for the perspectives that continue to arise when I choose curiosity over familiarity and openness over habit.

I invite you to gently ask yourself:

Is there a place in your life where a new perspective might be waiting?

Do you notice patterns you carry that mirror those of your parents or early influences?

What might shift if you allowed imagination, creativity, or curiosity to soften the edges of the familiar?

Sometimes, awareness begins not by fixing or changing, but by simply seeing things from a different angle.