The Train Is a Circle: When Truth Arrives Before Its Time
A Teaching from the Journey About Villains, Mirrors, and Collective Readiness
My Personal Pattern
There's a pattern I keep living and witnessing: someone triggers me, and I turn them into the enemy. Not because they're wrong, but because my nervous system can't handle what they reflected.
And here's how I do it: I look for their flaws. I discredit their wisdom. I gather evidence they're a fraud. I find others who agree they're "too much." I build a case for why they're the problem, not my reaction to them.
In group dynamics, in ceremony, in silence, this keeps happening. And it tells me something deeper about how we process truth, timing, and projection.
Even in ceremonial journeys, I see it played out: the enemy appears in my visions. We battle. I resist whatever is being taught. Then something shifts. A new song comes, my heart opens, and suddenly I'm inviting them back in. Tipping them for playing the role.
What I'm learning is this: the train of consciousness isn't linear. It's circular. And everyone belongs.
The Collective Dance We Don't Name
You've seen it happen:
Someone speaks up early, and the group flinches
Someone else says the same thing later, and gets praised
The first voice becomes the villain; the second, the savior
We project our fears onto the first because they disrupt the illusion. But it was never about the person. It was about the nervous system's capacity.
Why the First Voice Gets Rejected
1. It Arrives Raw
Truth spoken too soon feels violent because it touches an unprocessed place. Like those moments of distortion in ceremony, it creates the split.
2. Our Bodies Aren't Ready
It isn't just about intellect. It's somatic. Readiness lives in the body.
3. We Villainize to Distance Ourselves
Making someone "wrong" lets us feel safe again. We:
Question their credentials
Analyze their tone instead of their message
Look for inconsistencies to discredit them
Rally others to see them as "problematic"
Turn their confidence into arrogance
Make their clarity seem like aggression
Anything to avoid feeling what they stirred in us.
What I've Learned About My Own Villain-Making
The people I've turned into enemies were often holding a mirror I wasn't ready for. My ego needed to preserve identity, so it:
Searched their past for proof they were "fake"
Focused on their delivery flaws to dismiss their message
Created narratives about their "real motives"
Found allies who'd validate my projection
That wasn't their violence. It was my dissonance.
The energy I spent building cases against them? That was energy avoiding my own work.
But ceremony taught me something deeper...
What Ceremony Taught Me
There's a moment in every journey where the enemy dissolves. The battle ends. The heart opens. And suddenly I understand:
They were never the enemy. They were the teacher. And we board the train together.
The ceremony reveals this teaching through sound itself. When the music is harmonic, I float. But the curator knows: transformation doesn't live in the harmony. It lives in the distortion.
So they plant those moments of dissonance, intentionally, surgically. And that's exactly when I split. When I resist. When I create the villain to fight.
The harmonic music opens me. The distortion locates what's still clenched. That jarring shift is the plant teacher's diagnostic tool: "Here. This is where the parts don't speak to each other yet."
My shaman always says: "Sit in the discomfort of that tension." And I do. Sometimes I sit and sit and make no headway. The mind wants to solve it, fix it, win it.
But then music comes that takes me to the heart. When "Hymn to the Soul" by Laor starts playing, something breaks open. And when the heart opens, that's when healing happens. Because you don't think your way through the tension. You feel your way into the meeting point.
The plant teacher whispers: "The two parts must meet. Shadow and light. The one who rejects and the one who knows. They are not enemies. They are halves seeking wholeness."
The teaching is never about winning the battle. It's about letting the two parts meet through the heart.
"Harmony isn't the absence of distortion. It's the willingness to love through it."
That train isn't linear. It's circular. And everyone, every part of you, every person you've made villain, gets a seat.
A New Template for Collective Truth
What ceremony teaches us, we can practice in daily life:
Don't reject the early voice. Sit with it.
Don't glamorize the latecomer. Trace the thread.
Don't vilify your triggers. Witness them.
Don't flee discomfort. Let it rewire you.
We are not here to exile each other. We are here to metabolize revelation together
.
The Circle Teaching
You're not bad for not being ready.
You're not broken for being early.
You're not cruel for speaking up.
You're not enlightened for waiting.
You're part of the train. And the train is a circle.
The ceremony showed me: we keep creating villains because we haven't learned to love through the distortion. We reject the messenger because their timing creates dissonance in our comfortable harmony.
But what if that dissonance is the medicine?
What if the one who triggers us is showing us where we're still split?
What if every villain we create is just a part of ourselves asking to come home?
Make space. For the early voice. For the triggered heart. For the shadow and the light.
The train is always boarding. And everyone, everyone, belongs.
About Nyambura
Nyambura is a spiritual technologist exploring the intersection of ancient wisdom and modern transformation. She creates AI-powered wellness tools for spiritual reckoning, writes about consciousness in the digital age, and helps others navigate the paradox of healing in a world obsessed with optimization.
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