By Christie Beesley
There is a center point in all living systems.
A still place.
Not a throne, but a tuning fork.
Not a seat of control, but a source of coherence.
When power arises from this kind of center,
one rooted in resonance, reciprocity, and right relationship,
it becomes something different altogether.
In mandalas, the center radiates meaning outward.
In labyrinths, we walk inward not to stay, but to return changed.
In nature, the seed does not hoard power.
It shares, sprouts, multiplies.
This center is not a person, not a position, but a shared agreement.
A value, a truth, a hum that aligns with the harmonic architecture of the natural world.
And when a community attunes to this resonance, something extraordinary happens.
Power begins to move,
not in a linear chain of command, but in a rhythm.
Through different people, in different moments, shaped by context, need, and relationship.
This is power not as dominance, but as presence.
Not as extraction, but as energy in motion.
It circulates.
It is held.
It is shared.
And because it is not clung to, it does not collapse under its own weight.
It becomes sustainable, alive.
We are conditioned to believe that power must be visible.
Loud. Assertive. Controlling.
The kind of power that rushes in, burns bright, and burns out.
The kind that appears often in our history books and headlines.
But there is another kind.
Small power.
Quiet power.
Invisible power.
The power of deep listening.
Of accountability.
Of turning toward one another rather than away.
The power of tending.
Of knowing when to lead, and when to yield.
This is the antidote.
Not to fight the distorted structures on their own frequency,
but to meet them with something older, softer, truer.
To let harmony, not force, be the greater disruption.
To meet systems of domination with the piercing clarity of compassion.
Not as passivity, but as precision.
Because this kind of power does not destroy, it dissolves.
It speaks in a tone that distortion cannot hold its shape inside.
It is the power of the Divine Mother.
Of life force, love force, soul force.
Love, not as sentiment, but as source.
The most transformative power we have.
The frequency of creation, of regeneration, of return.
To honor this kind of power is to rewire the very idea of leadership.
To remember that when we work with power,
not hoard it, not fear it,
we become conduits for something far more intelligent than control.
We become the movement of the center.
The spiral.
The rhythm.
The pulse of a world that remembers how to sustain itself.
And in that remembrance, we find a new architecture.
Not hierarchy, but harmony.
Not command, but communion.
Not scarcity, but song.
