There are some battles that are invisible to the world but felt in every cell of your being. They don’t show up in headlines or history books.
They don’t carry titles or declarations. Yet, they are some of the most profound and soul-defining wars we will ever face.
I am speaking of spiritual warfare, not in the religious sense, but in the energetic, the archetypal, the deeply human. The kind that unfolds across lifetimes, through families, friendships, institutions, and inner sanctums. The kind where your soul is the battleground, your light the target, and your sovereignty the victory.
From as far back as I can remember, I noticed how people reacted to me in ways that felt unexplainable. Some were drawn in immediately, almost magnetically. They would project deep admiration, loyalty, even obsession, long before they knew me. Others recoiled with silent resentment or overt hostility, reading into me things I didn’t recognise in myself. It was extreme. Unsettling. And for a long time, I internalised it as something being wrong with me.
But it wasn’t wrong. It was spiritual.
Because when you carry light, especially ancestral light, hard-earned light, light born from surviving what should have broken you, it reveals things. Not just in you, but in others. Light exposes. Not always in the glorious, celebratory way people expect, but in a way that makes the hidden visible, the denied undeniable. And that process can provoke extreme discomfort in those who are not ready to face themselves.
Even in the seasons of life when everything looked good on the outside, the comforts, the achievements, the approval, something in me always felt caged. Like my soul was quietly mourning its own compromise. It took years to understand, material comfort means little when your freedom is conditional. And a sovereign soul is not for sale, even if the vessel housing it hasn't yet found the language to say so.
That misalignment between the soul and the life around it creates an opening. And through that opening, spiritual warfare enters. It doesn’t always come as catastrophe. Sometimes it comes in whispers, in betrayals that twist like blades, in the subtle but devastating disconnections from people you thought would never turn away. You begin to see a pattern, the more you try to live in truth, the more resistance rises. You will find yourself doing no harm, living with integrity, carrying burdens that others drop at your feet — and yet you will be the one targeted.
This is the part no one talks about, when you’re already on the floor, that’s often when the final blows come. Think of the Ten of Swords in tarot. The image of a figure face down, pierced not by one betrayal, but by ten. It’s not just heartbreak; it’s spiritual execution. And often, it’s orchestrated by the very people who once sang your praises. Family. Friends. Lovers. Communities. Systems. They don’t need evidence. Just a whisper of a story. Just enough discomfort to justify turning their back. Not because of what you've done, but because your presence reminds them of everything they have yet to face.
You will ask why. You will search yourself for answers. What do they see that I don't? Am I somehow to blame? Could I have done more? And in that place of questioning, as you bleed invisible wounds, you’ll realise something deeper, this is not about you. Not really. This is about what you activate.
Your light calls out to the dormant truth in others. But not everyone wants to be awakened. Some are still bargaining with their shadows. Others have already made peace with the masks they wear. And for some, your light feels like a threat to the illusion they’ve built their lives upon. Their wounds, their addictions, their unspoken shame, all become doorways through which darker forces can enter. And when the frequency is right, when the timing is precise, they are used. Not possessed in the horror movie sense, but manipulated, nudged, fuelled by energies that feed on division, fear, and suppression.
They will act out in ways they later don’t understand. Like a drunk who wakes up and can’t remember the damage done. And if you take it personally, it will destroy you. That’s the hardest part of all. To stand in the eye of that storm and understand it is not personal. It is strategic.
Spiritual warfare doesn’t want your image. It wants your essence. If it cannot control your soul, it will try to destroy everything around it. Your reputation. Your support. Your peace. It will use gossip, silence, sickness, poverty, betrayal, and confusion. It will send waves of loss, isolation, and abandonment. Not because you are weak. But because you are winning. Because you are waking up.
There will come a moment when everything is stripped away. No titles. No allies. No scripts to follow. Just you and the truth. The truth that you were never here to be understood. You were here to be sovereign. And that sovereignty cannot be given. It must be claimed, usually through fire.
It is in that naked, burned-to-the-bone moment that you meet your truest self. The one who was always there, quietly waiting. The one who knows that the darkness is not to be feared, but understood. That demons are not always monstrous but familiar. That survival is not the same as sovereignty. That the real war was never out there — it was always within.
And once you see it, truly see it, you can never go back. Not to smallness. Not to appeasement. Not to spiritual bypassing dressed up as peace. You rise, not in triumph over others, but in reunion with yourself. Your higher self. Your warrior self. Your Heyoka self. The one who walks between worlds. The one who holds paradoxes and patterns and truths too sacred to be spoken casually.
This is spiritual warfare. And if you’re reading this with a lump in your throat, a heat in your chest, or tears in your eyes, then you already know. You are not crazy. You are not cursed. You are not too much.
You are light. And that light is irritating everything they’ve tried to bury.
Don’t dim it. Don’t apologise for it. Let it burn.
