When the Soul Is Locked in a Cage:
A Shamanic View on Hopelessness
A Shamanic View on Hopelessness
When a person loses hope, the world shrinks to the size of a tight cage. The walls feel like stone, the door looks painted on, and the light outside becomes only a memory. This is not just sadness or fatigue. It’s when the spirit gets trapped: paths are blocked, options vanish, and even the thought of change feels impossible.
What happens in that moment?
The mind loops like an old drum beating the same note: “There’s no way out,” “It will always be like this,” “I’m powerless.” Emotions freeze—the person watches his life from afar, unable to touch it. The will to act fades: why move if everything is pointless? The spirit, deprived of motion, begins to smolder.
Where does this cage come from?
Most often, it grows from a long, heavy burden: an illness that won’t let go, relationships that suffocate, work that drains the life force, or a chain of losses coming one after another without pause. Sometimes it’s born from loneliness, when no one hears your cry. And sometimes from inner shadows: “all or nothing,” “if it’s not perfect, don’t start,” “I always fail.” It’s not the situation itself that locks the door — it’s the way we look at it.
How does a shaman see the way out?
1. Look honestly at where you stand.
Ask: What is truly beyond my control? What can I change but haven’t touched yet? What strength do I still have — even the quietest: memories of past victories, breath, warmth in the chest?
2. Widen your gaze.
When your spirit is caged, it sees only bars. Step beyond: “What would I tell a friend in the same trouble?” Picture yourself in a year, in five years — will this cage still feel so solid? Recall stories — yours or others’ — when darkness seemed eternal, yet light slipped through a crack.
3. Take micro-movements.
Not “turn life around,” but “today take one small step”: step outside, breathe deeply, light a candle and say, “I’m still here.” Each such step is like a drumbeat: the spirit hears it’s not forgotten and begins to stir.
4. Re-examine the rules.
Who said success must come by forty? That love is only “forever from first sight”? That if it’s not perfect, it’s better not to start? These are old chains. Remove them. Rewrite: what does a “worthy life” mean to you?
5. Speak to yourself like a friend by the fire.
Instead of “you’re a failure” — “it’s really hard right now, and that’s okay.” Instead of “pull yourself together” — “I’m here, I see you, I’m with you.” These words help to clear the fog.
6. When the spirit is too weak, call for help.
If the cage won’t let you breathe, if sleep and appetite are gone, if life has turned to gray shadow, turn to someone skilled in soul work: a wise listener, healer, or guide. This is not weakness, it’s wisdom.
Ask: What is truly beyond my control? What can I change but haven’t touched yet? What strength do I still have — even the quietest: memories of past victories, breath, warmth in the chest?
2. Widen your gaze.
When your spirit is caged, it sees only bars. Step beyond: “What would I tell a friend in the same trouble?” Picture yourself in a year, in five years — will this cage still feel so solid? Recall stories — yours or others’ — when darkness seemed eternal, yet light slipped through a crack.
3. Take micro-movements.
Not “turn life around,” but “today take one small step”: step outside, breathe deeply, light a candle and say, “I’m still here.” Each such step is like a drumbeat: the spirit hears it’s not forgotten and begins to stir.
4. Re-examine the rules.
Who said success must come by forty? That love is only “forever from first sight”? That if it’s not perfect, it’s better not to start? These are old chains. Remove them. Rewrite: what does a “worthy life” mean to you?
5. Speak to yourself like a friend by the fire.
Instead of “you’re a failure” — “it’s really hard right now, and that’s okay.” Instead of “pull yourself together” — “I’m here, I see you, I’m with you.” These words help to clear the fog.
6. When the spirit is too weak, call for help.
If the cage won’t let you breathe, if sleep and appetite are gone, if life has turned to gray shadow, turn to someone skilled in soul work: a wise listener, healer, or guide. This is not weakness, it’s wisdom.
Hopelessness is not a sentence; it’s a thick fog that distorts the path. But fog always lifts. The strangest thing: the moment when it feels like there is definitely no way out is often the turning point where old paths finally collapse, and space opens for something new. You don’t need to see the whole road. Just notice the next step. Then another. Sometimes salvation begins not with a loud breakthrough, but with the quiet decision to stay connected to yourself and the world, until the light returns.