Let me take you back to a time when love felt less like a sunrise and more like a storm. I was tangled in relationships that left me breathless, bruised, and bewildered—cycles that repeated like a scratched record, each chorus a little more familiar, a little more hollow. It wasn’t until I began to see these connections as lessons rather than failures that the pattern revealed itself: my loves were mirrors, each reflecting a layer of my own unlit shadows and unloved fragments, mapped across the seven sacred chakras.
This is the story of how I learned to stop chasing love and start evolving with it.
The Lower Chakras: Where We Learn to Crawl
First, we must realise that we always meet people at the level we meet ourselves, meaning, as psychology says, we meet people at our level of trauma. We basically have a trauma bond, or you can call it initial alignment, which then expands at two different rates if not developed growing together.
Root Chakra (Muladhara)
My first love was a wildfire. We burned through nights, bodies tangled in a language older than words. She taught me the raw poetry of touch, the way desire can make you feel both powerful and powerless. But when the embers cooled, there was nothing left to feed us. The root chakra is where we learn to survive—to feel safe in our skin, to trust the ground beneath our feet. But when we linger here, love becomes a cage of craving. We mistake possession for passion, mistaking the hunger to have for the courage to hold.
If ignored: We remain stuck in loops of lust and insecurity, using bodies as barricades against true intimacy. We chase the high of being wanted, never asking, “Do I even want myself?”
Sacral Chakra (Svadhisthana)
The next love was a carnival—colorful, chaotic, intoxicating. We painted the town in our laughter, danced until our feet bled, and swore the world was ours. But when the music stopped, she vanished into her own unhealed wounds. The sacral chakra is the realm of creation—of art, pleasure, the fertile chaos of collaboration. It teaches us to flow, to revel in shared joy. Yet when we refuse to dive beneath the surface, pleasure becomes a prison. We drown in the shallow end, too afraid to ask, “What hurts beneath all this happiness?”
If ignored: We become addicts of distraction, using shared hobbies or chemistry to avoid the hard work of emotional excavation. We mistake motion for growth.
Solar Plexus (Manipura)
Then came the love that nearly broke me. She mirrored my ambition, my hunger to rise—until she couldn’t bear the light. Her insecurities became grenades lobbed at my dreams. The solar plexus is where we claim our power—the right to speak, to shine, to set boundaries. This chakra doesn’t negotiate. It demands respect. Letting her go was like tearing out a rib, but in that hollow space, I found a spine.
If ignored: We shrink. We let others gaslight our intuition, bending until we forget our own shape. Relationships become battlegrounds, not bridges.
The Heart Chakra (Anahata): Where the Real Work Begins
After the lower chakras schooled me in survival, creation, and selfhood, I thought I was ready for love. I was wrong. The heart chakra isn’t a destination—it’s a decision. Here, love isn’t something you fall into; it’s something you build. It asks you to love without keeping score, to hold space without losing yourself.
I haven’t met her yet, the one who’ll meet me here. But I’ve felt whispers—the kind of connection where silence isn’t awkward but sacred, where conflict isn’t a threat but a trowel to dig deeper. The heart chakra teaches that love is a verb, an active choice to see and be seen.
If ignored: Love stays transactional. We armor our hearts, confusing protection with strength. We demand guarantees, forgetting that trust is a leap, not a contract.
The Higher Chakras: Where Love Becomes Liberation
Throat Chakra (Vishuddha)
Few talk about the throat chakra in love, but it’s here that we either suffocate or soar. This is where truth lives—the awkward, ugly, glorious truth. I’ve learned that love without honesty is just performance. The throat chakra demands you say the hard thing: “I’m scared.” “You hurt me.” “I need more.” It’s the antidote to resentment.
If ignored: Words become weapons or walls. We ghost, gaslight, or people-please, burying our needs until they rot into quiet rage.
Third Eye Chakra (Ajna)
Love is not blind. The third eye chakra is the seer, the quiet voice that whispers, “This isn’t right,” or “Stay.” I once ignored it for a year, rationalizing red flags as “compromises.” The third eye teaches discernment—to trust the knowing beneath the noise. It’s the difference between intuition and insecurity.
If ignored: We become detectives, overanalyzing texts and tones, distrusting ourselves into chaos. Love feels like a puzzle we’re too broken to solve.
Crown Chakra (Sahasrara)
And finally, the crown—the chakra that hums, “You are stardust. So are they.” Here, love transcends the personal. It’s not about them or you, but the cosmic dance you’re here to co-create. I’ve glimpsed this in moments: laughing with a stranger, forgiving an ex, sitting alone under the sky and feeling impossibly whole. The crown chakra dissolves the ego’s hunger for “perfect love” and replaces it with reverence for connection itself.
If ignored: We cling to labels, roles, and checklists, reducing love to a trophy or a trauma. We miss the magic of being alive together.
The Invitation
Today, I’m no love guru. I’m a student, sitting cross-legged in the rubble of old patterns, building something new. The chakras taught me this: every relationship is a pilgrimage. The lower ones? They’re not enemies. They’re the roots that ground us, the fire that forges us. But if we never climb higher, we’ll keep mistaking love for a feeling we lose instead of a power we cultivate.
So here’s my vow: I will love from the heart, speak from the throat, see from the third eye, and remember—always—that love is not a cage. It’s the sky.
And the sky has room for everyone to fly.
What’s your love story trying to teach you?
SHS - Human First Blog 
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