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The soul already knows you are worthy – it’s the mind that needs to remember.
Morrigan sat at the edge of a quiet field. A thin veil of morning mist still lay across the ground.
Beside her, Maeve watched a butterfly drift through the air – mesmerized by how something so small could feel so beautiful, so innately full of worth.
Nearby, Raven sat silently on a branch, quietly watching.
— Mama, how do I know if I’m worthy?
Morrigan blinked slowly, not answering right away. She let the silence speak first.
— Because you are here, she said softly.
— But I haven’t done anything.
Morrigan touched her nose gently to Maeve’s forehead.
— Your heart is beating. That is enough.
Raven let out a low caw.
— We forget sometimes. But the earth never does.
Maeve curled up beside Morrigan.
— I don’t want to forget.
— Then you already carry the memory, Morrigan replied. And that is what worth is – resting in what you’ve always carried.
Something lingered in the silence. The butterfly had gone, but the imprint it left still hung in the air – a sense of something important, not yet fully formed in words.
There is a place within us where the question of worth is never asked. A place where nothing needs to be measured, weighed, or earned. Where everything already is. But we’ve been taught to place our worth outside ourselves – in validation, in achievement, in adaptation. And each time we do, our connection to what has always held us grows faint. We do not lose our worth – we simply lose resonance with it. And yet something deep within keeps whispering: there is another way to live. Another pulse to follow.
Worth is not something to be built – it is something that rests. It lives in us like a code, a tone, an undiminished anchor. It does not move through performance, but through pulse. One who carries their worth feels whole – without the need to compare. They recognize their place not by asserting it, but by being in it. We remember our worth not through external affirmation, but by growing quiet enough to hear our own rhythm – not through noise, but through inner listening.
Relationships have often become the fields where we reflect ourselves through lack. We seek approval in others’ eyes, try to earn our place by being agreeable, capable, adaptable. But every time we shape ourselves to fit someone else’s image, we lose a piece of our own outline. The field of soul economy reminds us that true connection is not about fulfilling expectations, but about meeting in what remains present beyond form. When we carry our worth as something alive, we can meet others without shrinking or inflating ourselves. Then, the relationship becomes a space for resonance – not survival.
The body holds the memory of worth in every cell. It knows when we shut down, over-adapt, or go against our rhythm. It whispers through tension, fatigue, and resistance. Not as punishment – but as guidance. When we listen to the body’s rhythm, we carry our worth in how we move. Rest becomes activation, a natural part of the flow. Presence becomes a place to dwell – free from performance. To follow the body’s truth is to recall the code of worth in how we live.
When we remember our worth, the way we give, receive, and set boundaries begins to shift. It may show up in something as simple as saying no – not out of defense, but from the quiet knowing of our own rootedness. We stop acting from guilt and begin living from attunement. Worth becomes a movement – not something stored, but something that circulates. Soul economy teaches us we are not isolated islands, but nodes in a living network. Holding our worth also means letting it move – in word, in gaze, in silent presence. It is to participate in the weave, without losing ourselves in it.
Your worth doesn’t live in what you do. You do – because you are worthy.
This is how worth breathes in soul economy. Like a rhythm that longs to remember itself. Like a field that already knows.