The Roots We’ve Forgotten: Healing Through Provenance and Inner Peace

Koöko Fleurs
Jul 10
4 min read

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about mental health—not just as a condition, but as a climate. Something that affects every part of who we are and how we connect to others. It’s a storm so many live inside silently, and the causes are often deeper than what we speak about.

We live in a world where people are slowly losing touch with themselves. Identity is fragmented. Provenance—the place we come from, emotionally and spiritually—is becoming abstract. So many of us walk with no map, just noise. And in that disorientation, mental strain multiplies. It hurts.

I’ve seen and felt it. The isolation. The tension of trying to stay calm while everything around you spins. The quiet ache of not being seen, or being treated like your feelings are too much. And all the while, people are dying from this invisible weight. We speak of healing, but rarely of listening. We promote wellness, but shy away from vulnerability.

And so I try—every day—to find the thread back to myself. I pray. I hold space for peace, even when I’m angry. I look for spiritual stillness in moments when the world feels unjust or absurd. This is my way of protecting what’s left of me. Not by shouting, not by politicizing, but by remembering that neutrality doesn’t mean indifference—it means cultivating a peaceful stance in a chaotic environment.

Compassion has become my compass. Not the kind that’s flashy or loud, but the kind that simply notices. That recognizes when someone’s behavior is rooted in pain. That refuses to add more harshness to what’s already heavy. It’s not always easy. But it’s essential.

Mental health isn't just about clinical terms. It’s about kindness. About reconnecting with our roots, and each other. About being brave enough to ask: “Where have I come from? What do I need to feel whole? And how can I offer others the same grace I wish someone offered me?”

We’ve forgotten our roots. But they’re still there—quiet, waiting. And I believe that through spirit, compassion, and a commitment to calm, we can begin to grow again.

What Are Roots, Really?

Roots are where we come from—our origin stories, our ancestry, the emotional and cultural soil that first held us. They’re the beliefs passed down, the languages whispered at bedtime, the griefs we inherited without knowing their names. They shape us long before we know how to shape ourselves.

But roots aren’t always simple or pure. Sometimes they carry pain. Conflict. Silence. Families break, histories disappear, trauma gets handed down in shadows, not stories. We speak of roots as sources of strength, but they can also divide us—especially when we’re disconnected from them, or when they carry wounds too deep to look at directly.

That’s why healing isn’t just a forward motion. It often requires a return. A quiet, intentional journey into the generational tree—not to romanticize the past, but to understand it. To reclaim what was lost, gently rewrite what was harmful, and discover new ways to belong.

Rekindling that connection is not easy. It might mean asking questions no one’s asked before, tracing back to names that feel foreign, or accepting truths that once scared you. But through this process, we begin to see ourselves more fully. We begin to make peace with what made us—and choose, lovingly, what parts we wish to carry forward.

Whole doesn’t mean perfect. Whole means rooted in truth, and open to transformation.

Spirituality and the Journey Back

When provenance feels broken—or forgotten—spirituality can be the lantern that guides us back. Not necessarily tied to religion, but to the deep inner quiet where our spirit meets memory and intention. That stillness reminds us: we are more than our wounds. We are not the chaos we’ve inherited.

Spirituality helps us witness our roots with compassion. To see not just what went wrong, but what kept us going. It gives us the courage to revisit painful histories without losing ourselves in them. To forgive, without forgetting. To choose peace, even when we are not given justice.

It invites us to create new patterns. To rebuild our sense of self around love, presence, and clarity—not just survival. Provenance doesn't have to be perfect to be meaningful. It can be a thread, a rhythm, a whisper that says, “You belong. You always have.”

Through this reconnection—spiritual and ancestral—we begin to feel whole again. Not polished, not erased, but real.

And now...