It was nearly 3:00 PM on Saturday, the final day of a spiritual retreat. I was completely exhausted from the intensity of the last three days.
I stepped out of the cool, air-conditioned therapy hall where I had spent hours in deep sessions since 11 AM.

The next workshop was about to start within minutes, and I seriously considered packing up and escaping home. Enough upheaval for one weekend, I thought.
But in a sudden decision — despite the fatigue — I turned around and walked back into the hall.

I had seen the name of this session at other gatherings before, but this time I was drawn in by the facilitator. Something about his energy felt right, and I had a strong inner calling to experience his work.

The session was called “Becoming My Own Therapist.”

After some simple partner warm-ups, we were instructed to choose a partner. I found myself sitting with another woman, and for a brief moment, I noticed a part of me wishing I had a male partner.

The facilitator then asked if anyone wanted to volunteer and bring forward a personal challenge for a demonstration. Without hesitation, Shakti raised her hand and caught his attention.

I shared my struggle: “I long to experience love with a man, but I filter men out so strongly that it’s become impossible.”

He invited me to the center of the room, placed a mat, handed me a microphone, and sat across from me.

He asked my name. I said, “Shakti.”

Then he instructed me to close my left eye and look at him through my right. My right eye was busy, restless, scanning. It searched him, tried to penetrate his energy.
He reflected back what he saw — and it landed with striking accuracy.

Then I closed my right eye and looked through the left. Instantly, I felt softness wash over me. A direct line to my heart. Vulnerability. He spoke again, and his words mirrored exactly what I was feeling.

I felt safe. I felt seen. I was sitting in front of a true master, and I knew I was being gifted a rare moment.

He asked me a series of questions about my issue — each one directed first to the right eye, then the left.
It quickly became clear: the right eye was the inner Shiva — masculine, pushing forward — and the left eye was the inner Shakti — feminine, tender and afraid.

I returned to my partner, and we practiced asking and answering the questions through each eye.

Soon, I noticed something beautiful: my inner Shiva and Shakti were having a full-on dialogue.
Shiva was urging action, boldness. Shakti said she was scared. She needed time.

She explained she was in a process of learning to trust herself, and she promised she would know when the timing was right.

Shiva listened with patience and love. He embraced her and said:
“I see you, beautiful Shakti. I trust you. I will give you the space you need. I believe in your process.”

She melted in his arms.
After years of dominance and silencing, he was finally meeting her with grace.

To close the session, Shakti turned to Shiva and said:
“I’ll listen to myself. When something feels right, I’ll ask for your help — and I trust that you’ll be there.”

The exercise ended, and I felt an inner peace, joy, and deep sense of integration.

But it wasn’t over.

The facilitator brought four chairs to the center of the room and called me back for the next phase of the demonstration.

I sat facing him. To my left was the chair for Shakti, to my right — Shiva.

He asked me to briefly describe what I had experienced. Then I shifted between the chairs, giving voice to each side.

Shakti proudly shared how she had grown clearer and stronger, and how Shiva was finally meeting her where she was.
Shiva celebrated her growth and promised his support. They were adorable — complimenting each other and promising harmony.

Then I returned to the neutral seat.

The facilitator asked what I noticed.
I smiled and said, “They seem to be getting along really well. I think they’ll be just fine now.”

He smiled back — but gently warned me: “That’s sweet. But it might not be deep enough. There’s a good chance they’ll slip back into their old patterns.”

He invited Shiva to apply a bit more pressure. As he did, Shakti’s inner response changed.

She took a breath, connected to her power, looked Shiva in the eye — and gently put him in his place.

When I returned to the neutral chair once more, I felt something shift inside me. A realization:

Maturity isn’t such a scary word after all.

Healing doesn’t always happen in grand, dramatic moments.
Sometimes, it’s in the quiet conversations between the parts of ourselves that we’ve long ignored.
This practice reminded me that I hold both the questions and the answers within me and that when I truly listen, something sacred begins to unfold.
The inner union of Shiva and Shakti is not a destination, but a living relationship, one that continues to evolve with patience, trust, and deep inner listening.