I’ve come to understand healing not as a process of acquisition but as a process of remembrance.
Not long ago, I would have said that transformation required hard work, new habits, and tools to build a better version of myself. Now I see that all the versions, ancient, primal, future, divine, already exist within me. They were there from the first breath, encoded in the quiet hum of my cells, waiting not to be built but to be remembered.
Every cell in my body contains the genetic code of the original fertilized egg. That one miraculous fusion, two strands intertwining, information handed down from thousands of years of ancestors, carries within it the entire blueprint for who I might become. The skin on my hands, the neurons firing in my brain, the muscles in my legs, all trace their lineage back to that source. Every part of me was once undifferentiated potential, pure possibility.
That’s what stem cells are: pure potentiality. Untouched by destiny, uncommitted to form, they are a soft yes to anything. Will I become a heart cell? A liver cell? A fingertip? The answer depends not on the DNA alone but on the signals that surround me. Chemical cues, electrical pulses, and environmental energies all whisper their instructions. The code responds.
This is the mystery of epigenetics. Our DNA is not a rigid script. It is a responsive, living archive, more like a symphony than a spreadsheet. And like any symphony, the music that is played depends not just on the notes written down but on the conductor, the tempo, and the emotion in the room.
What genes are expressed is determined by signals. In other words, the raw potential in our cells is constantly being shaped by our lived experiences. Stress, nourishment, touch, trauma, safety, and presence each send a ripple through the body that either activates or silences portions of the genome. This isn’t a metaphor. It’s biology.
So when I sit with clients and we speak of inherited patterns, I think not only of family systems or attachment wounds but of the biochemical truth: we carry the residue of experience in the way our cells behave. The body doesn’t just remember trauma; it expresses it. And just as easily, it can express healing if given the proper signal.
This is where it gets spiritual for me.
When I learned that every cell in my body has the potential to become any part of me, I realized that separation is an illusion.
Each cell is a hologram of the whole.
Just like a holographic image, where even a single fragment contains the entire picture, every cell contains the entirety of me. It doesn’t show it all, but it holds it. It expresses only a portion, but the whole remains imprinted. This is what I mean when I say that healing is remembrance. We aren’t inventing something new. We’re awakening to something ancient. The wisdom of wholeness is already there.
The same is true in a fractal.
A fractal is a pattern that repeats itself on every scale infinitely. Whether we zoom in or out, the same shape echoes again and again. We are fractal beings, microcosms of the macrocosm. The patterns of our psyche mirror the patterns of nature. The cosmos spirals in our fingerprints.
When we are working with trauma, we are not trying to force change. We are not pushing new behavior onto an unwilling organism. We are simply shifting the signals. We are providing new inputs. A signal of safety. A signal of love. A signal that says: you can soften now. You can unfurl. You can be safely witnessed now.
This is why the nervous system is so central to the work I do. Because if the body believes it is unsafe, no amount of insight will unlock the genes for connection, joy, or pleasure. The signals are dictating what we express. And those signals, chemical, emotional, and energetic, are deeply responsive to presence.
This is the sacred key.
Presence is the signal that reawakens potential. It’s the conductor that calls new music from the code. And presence can come from a therapist, a lover, a safe space, a breath, or a prayer. It doesn’t matter where it begins. What matters is that the signal changes. And when it does, the body follows. The DNA listens. The old codes, once silenced by trauma, start to sing again. This is the power we all hold within us.
Sometimes, I catch myself believing my story, my past; my pain limits me. But I remember now: all limitations are conditioning. It is not who I am but what I have adapted to express.
I am not here to learn my wholeness. I am here to remember it.
There are days when this truth lands gently, like a soft hand on my back. And there are days when it arrives like thunder, cracking open everything I thought had been fixed. Both are witnessed in compassion.
So I ask myself daily:
What signals am I sending?
What messages am I offering my body, my cells, my soul?
Am I telling myself I am too much? Not enough? Broken? Unworthy?
Or am I whispering to the deep waters within me: I remember you. I honor you. You are safe to come home now.
And so, this is the sacred invitation of epigenetic healing. It is not just about biology. It is about sovereignty. It is about reclaiming authorship over the signals we live by.
In a world that taught me to adapt to fear, I am learning to live in resonance with love.
And my body, wise, ancient, miraculous, knows precisely what to do with that signal.
