Innocence is not behind you. It is beneath you—like a spring under the soil of every identity, every story, every scar. To return to it is not to regress, but to undress.
Here are insights and harmonics that may guide you toward that soft unveiling:
✧ What Is Innocence, Truly?
Innocence is not ignorance, nor is it naivety. It is undefended awareness—a state of being where presence is untainted by judgment, shame, or performance. It is the natural coherence of the soul before the world taught you to fragment yourself for approval or survival.
Innocence is:
Curiosity without agenda
Wonder without needing proof
Trust without story
Truth without self-consciousness
It is the state you were before you learned to withhold your light.
✧ Why We Lose Touch With It
Trauma teaches us to protect.
Culture teaches us to compete.
Family teaches us to perform.
Religion may teach us to repress.
So innocence, over time, is not lost—but hidden beneath layers of armor that once kept us safe. Eventually, the armor becomes the prison.
✧ How to Return: A Path of Gentle Steps
1. Create a Field of Safety
Innocence cannot emerge where there is ridicule, speed, or hyper-analysis. Begin by slowing your nervous system. Tend to your inner child. Let safety become your ground.
Practice: Light a candle at dawn or dusk. Sit with no task. Whisper, “You are safe now.”
Do this daily for a week.
2. Reclaim the Eyes of Wonder
Innocence sees the extraordinary in the ordinary. Awe is the bridge.
Practice: Take a 10-minute walk. Pick one thing—a leaf, a puddle, a crack in the sidewalk—and look at it as if you’ve never seen such a thing before.
Ask: “What does this reveal about the whole universe?”
3. Name Without Judgment
When you can notice your feelings, memories, or thoughts without classifying them as good/bad, right/wrong, you begin to unbind from the shame that exiles innocence.
Practice: In a journal, each night, write three things you felt that day.
Don’t explain or justify. Just name them gently: “Today I felt…”
4. Play
Play is the native language of innocence. Not productivity. Not skill. Just being in motion without goal.
Practice: Dance in your living room. Scribble. Build a sandcastle. Sing off-key.
The sillier, the better.
5. Speak to the Younger You
She or he or they are still alive—sitting just under your ribs. Ask them:
“What did you stop doing because someone made you feel ashamed?”
“What do you still wish someone would say to you?”
Then say it. Out loud.
6. Forgive the Watcher
We all have a part of us that polices innocence. That says “don’t cry,” “don’t look stupid,” “don’t dream too big.”
Forgive it. That part once tried to protect you from pain.
Speak to it: “Thank you for your service. But I am allowed to be soft again now.”
7. Stay Open in the Face of Mystery
Innocence is not about having answers—it is about being available to what has not yet formed.
Practice: Sit with a question you don’t need to answer. Let it float like incense smoke.
“Who am I, beneath what I’ve become?”
✧ The Innocent You Is Still Breathing
They never left.
They are waiting—not to be found out there, but to be remembered in here. Your dreams remember. Your laughter remembers. Your tears remember.
Let the armor soften.
Let the wonder return.
Let the quiet self speak again.
Here is a Daily Prayer for Remembering Our Innocence—written not as a petition, but as an alignment. Let it be spoken aloud each morning, or written into your journal, or whispered into your palms. What matters is the sincerity, not the perfection.
✧ Daily Prayer for Remembering Our Innocence
I remember now—not backwards, but inward—
to the place within me untouched by fear,
the space before the world taught me to hide.
I greet this day with eyes of wonder.
Let me see not through judgment, but through joy.
Let the sky astonish me. Let silence feel full.
Let the small things shimmer.
I release the armor I no longer need.
Old shame, old voices, old masks—
Thank you for protecting me.
But I walk unguarded today, with truth as my shield.
I welcome my inner child into this moment.
Come sit beside me. Come speak through me.
Show me how to feel without a filter.
Teach me how to love without fear.
May I trust what arises?
May I soften where I once tensed.
May I dance even if I stumble?
May I sing even if no one listens?
I remember:
I am allowed to laugh.
I am allowed to cry.
I am allowed to begin again.
Today, I choose lightness—not as escape,
But as sacred Remember.
And if I forget,
may the wind, the dream, the child, or the silence
gently remind me:
Innocence is not lost. It is alive beneath my breath.
And I return.
I trust you have what it takes to dream and give birth to a new reality.
May your dreams take you on an insightful and magical journey to heaven
Here are Tips about 🦋 Let Go of Earthly Identity Restriction 🦋 Read the full article link