Letting The Tetris Blocks Fall Into Place

Sometimes the biggest shifts don’t happen while we’re actively “working on ourselves.” They happen later, in the background, when the system finally has enough space to rest and digest.

In this short talk, I share a simple metaphor, Tetris blocks falling into place, to point at something I’ve seen again and again in healing work: integration rarely comes from more effort or more micromanagement. Often it comes when you make a few honest moves, let them land, and stop hovering. That’s especially relevant in January, when the pressure to set goals and reinvent yourself can quietly turn into another form of control.

This is an invitation to start slow, focus on one thing at a time, loosen your grip on outcomes, and give your nervous system the space it needs to actually reorganize.

Transcript

Letting the Tetris blocks fall into place. Last summer, A long-standing insecurity of mine fell away. Not all of it, Admittedly, But a significant chunk. What's most interesting is that this shift didn't happen when I was actively working on it. Rather, It happened in the background during a several-week break where I intentionally did no self-work at all, Including meditation. It cleared once my system had enough space to rest. The image that best captures it for me is letting the Tetris blocks fall into place. There are many times where I've felt this specific old pain come up, And I've given it compassion and repeated this process dozens of times or more. I'd come to a deep understanding of what it was and where it came from. And yet, It wouldn't budge. Healing is often spoken about as a spiral process where you revisit the same thing multiple times with progressively more depth and insight. But for me, It kind of felt like I was just going more in circles. What I believe was happening was there wasn't enough space for integration to happen. By integration, I mean the moment when the healing work finally hits home. It's when the mind, The body, And emotions start working together again, And what was once fragmented or overwhelming becomes felt, Digested, And included in your sense of self. And this integration rarely happens through micromanagement. Nervous systems don't heal because you clamp down harder and manage every variable. Rather, They heal more like the way falling asleep works. You create the conditions, And then you stop interfering. If you try too hard to get to sleep, You get more anxious, And you sleep worse, Or you don't fall asleep at all. Completely getting your mind off of sleep is often the better strategy to fall asleep. It's the same thing with healing. Sometimes we need a break from the entire healing project itself. From the retreats, And the coaching, And the therapy, And the endless processing. That can be quite hard for many seekers, Including myself, Because I think we're often caught in what I think of as a subtle cult of healing. We're always reading the next book, Listening to the next podcast, Tracking the next pattern, Even turning vacations into opportunities to go on more retreats and attend more workshops, All of which tend to come with an agenda to achieve something. A lot of this is driven by a sense of time scarcity. There's limited time, And there's so much to heal, So you better keep going. Of course, There's a really good intention here. The freedom from suffering is a very human desire, And it's a feeling that I know very well. When Pandora's box gets blown open during some breakdown or midlife crisis, All the wounds are suddenly exposed, And a new life mission appears. To heal. But, Old habits die hard. Without noticing, I think we take the same type A intensity we've used to get through life, And we just apply it to healing instead. It isn't inherently bad, But it can be limiting and sometimes counterproductive. It's worth noticing, Especially if you feel stuck. And this is where the Tetris metaphor fits in, Even for someone like myself who actually barely plays Tetris. In Tetris, You move the piece a little, You rotate it, You line it up, And then you let it drop. Action, And then release. Healing has very much the same sort of rhythm. You do the work, And then you get out of the way, So integration can happen on its own. Now, Letting go of control sounds nice, But can of course be hard in practice. I was reminded of this recently while talking with an entrepreneur who told me how much she values mindfulness, And how essential it's been in her life, But when we talked about taking a break, She kind of laughed and admitted that over the holidays she'd still be working. Of course, I don't blame her, I know that we're all busy. That's kind of the point. Many of us genuinely believe in healing and rest, While the reality is we are embedded in a system, Social, Economic, Cultural, That doesn't actually allow for these things, Or doesn't really prioritize them. So we stay chronically on, Even when our stated mission is healing. This is why I think that integration usually doesn't show up during your healing practice, Whatever that looks like. It shows up when you stop treating your life like a self-improvement assignment. It happens when you take your hands off of the project, Even for a minute. I see this very clearly in my own life. After guiding a coaching session or facilitating a workshop, The best thing I can do isn't to reflect on it or to extract lessons, It's actually just to completely disengage. That often looks like watching stand-up comedy or freestyle rappers while chilling on my couch. I just like turning my mind off of my own material entirely. My somatic therapist once confirmed this when I asked what I should do to integrate this lesson or this healing that I received in the session. And her answer was really disarmingly simple. She said, Don't think about it, Don't journal about it, Do something totally unrelated. And hearing that was a real relief. She was saying, Let whatever got stirred up actually resolve in the body without reactivating it or adding more analysis or thinking. Indeed, There's a natural healing process that takes place when we just get out of the way. So, In my experience, That's where the Tetris blocks actually fall into place. Not always during the act of healing work, But in the ordinary, Unremarkable moments afterward. Riding a merry-go-round with my son, Watching a funny movie like the new Naked Gun movie with Liam Neeson, Taking a road trip with no plan, Playing the ukulele, Camping, Having a few beers or ice cream in my case. Just the normal life shit that we do. Right? And these moments are intentionally not framed as healing. And because they're not, There's no pressure. And they create enough space for the system to actually breathe. So, I think for many people on the spiritual path, Healing becomes the path itself, Right? It becomes a sort of goal and it gets wrapped up in identity and responsibility or even a sort of moral stance like we have to do the right thing for the sake of humanity or consciousness evolution or whatever. And that can be really meaningful and inspiring. But it can also be suffocating and can block what healing is actually for, Which is more of a return to wholeness and finding a sense of freedom in the body and the mind. Grace isn't the goal that you reach by effort. It's the name that we give to what it feels like when the blocks finally click into place on their own. So, Sometimes the most healing thing you can do is just step off the path entirely for a while. No retreats, No meditation, No Instagram guru reels, None of that. You don't need to force the Tetris blocks into place. You don't need to keep rotating them midair. You just need to let go of it and create some more space and time. I'm saying this at the start of January when there's usually a rush to make resolutions and pile on more goals. Honestly, I do feel this fresh energy after a break in January. But I'm just not interested right now in turning it into a big life overhaul or making any huge goals. I'm starting slow, Working on one thing at a time, And not gripping the outcome so hard. I make a few moves and give plenty of space for the blocks to land. And I'm practicing being okay with it being imperfect.