The Chains Below: How the First Three Chakras Keep You Bound (and How to Set Them Free)

Many years ago, I made a video explaining each chakra.
People loved it — but then they asked for more.
Something more grounded.
They wanted to know: “How do I know if I’m stuck? How do I tell if I’m looping in one of the wheels?”

So I made another one.

In both videos, I said something bold:
If you live only through the first three chakras, you are a slave.

And I still stand by it.

No — this isn’t hate for the lower chakras.
Far from it.

I adore the sacral chakra.
Me and my inner lover love to live there — it’s lush, sensual, and full of life.

And honestly, I know people who dwell mostly in the root chakra, and you know what?
Kudos to them.
They’re the ones who actually believe they can build a better world.
They don’t just dream it — they lay bricks.

No reality is a bad reality.

It’s just about what kind of story you want to live through.

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

I. Chakras are the stories we tell ourselves

II. Root Chakra - The Wound of Safety

III. Sacral Chakra - The Wound of Desire

IV. Solar Plexus Chakra - The Wound of Power

V. The Truth About The Chakras — The Divine Counterparts

+ BONUS: GUIDE TO CHAKRAS

Boating - Edouard Manet

I. Chakras Are the Stories We Tell Ourselves

Previously, I likened chakras to water tanks—for easy visual purposes.

The reason is simple.

Chakras are points along your spine, which is really your divine antenna. They connect your body to your spirit, distributing energy through your subtle body based on how open or closed they are. If your tank is shut tight, not much gets in—nothing flows, nothing lights up. But if it’s wide open with no containment, the water spills out.

Chakras are also communicators. Just as they sit between our physical and subtle body, our Soul keeps sending its feelings, patterns, and desires into them to make us aware of them.

Today, let’s see them as stories.

You can think of chakras like affirmations stacked on a pyramid—something like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. But this is the pyramid of Samsara. The pyramid of you.

Each chakra is a level of consciousness—one slice of your prism.

Imagine holding a diamond. As light hits it, it refracts into a spectrum.

Each ray—each chakra—has a sound, an element, a frequency.
And most importantly: a story.
Because light, at its essence, is consciousness made visible.

When you live too long in one story, you begin to mistake it for the whole truth.
It becomes your bubble. Your blueprint. Your reality.

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Each of us arrives here with a certain elemental predisposition.
You can call it temperament.
Or in Ayurveda—prakruti.
It’s your default setting, your energetic signature.

Here’s what some spiritual teachers don’t tell you:
The goal is not to balance every chakra into the same bland state.
Balance does not mean neutrality. It means alignment with your unique design.

You aren’t meant to sit perfectly still in the center.
You’re meant to flow—in the right proportions for you.

Some people are naturally more fiery—solar plexus driven, decisive, born to lead.
Others are more airy—visionary, future-thinking, unpredictable.
Some are deep and earthy—steadying forces in the chaos.

This isn’t dysfunction.
It’s orchestration.

Imagine if every cell in your body wanted to be the heart.
You might get a beating heart in a jar. But you wouldn’t get a living body.

So maybe you live a bit more in the sacral. Like me.
Because you’re meant to bring beauty into the world, to let feeling and form seduce one another.

Before we start demonizing or idealizing chakras, let’s be very clear:

The higher chakras are not “better.”

I’ve met people who live entirely in their throat chakra—and they are exhausting.
Always talking. Always spinning ideas. Five minutes with them and I feel like I need vacation. (I know you have someone in mind now. No shame, lol.)

Same with crown-dominant people—glorious downloads, zero integration.
Look at Osho.
Clearly connected to Source.
But never processed the desire of his lower chakras.
What we got was brilliance—but also the “Wild Wild mess”.

So no, the problem is not any particular chakra.

The problem is swimming in it unconsciously.

Especially the lower three.

These are the mammalian chakras.
And if you stay there too long—root, sacral, solar—you’re just a hamster in the wheel.
A beautiful hamster. 🐹

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They say the upper chakras are Sophia.

But don’t get confused.
Sophia isn’t superior.
She fell, too.

In the Gnostic myth, Sophia—the embodiment of Divine Wisdom—
was once in the higher realms, radiant and whole.
But she became curious. Hungry for experience.
She reached down, desiring to create without her divine counterpart.
And in doing so, she fell into the lower realms.

Her fall birthed distortion.
Matter. Time. Ego. Forgetfulness.

She became fragmented.

But Sophia’s story doesn’t end there.
Because someone had to go get her.

That someone was the Christ force.

Not Jesus the man—but the energy of the middle path.
The bridge between Spirit and Flesh.
The frequency of the Heart.

Christ descends not to judge the world—but to re-member it.
Not to rescue Sophia by pulling her back up—
but to meet her in matter,
and remind her of what she is.

This is what your Heart chakra represents.
Not spiritual bypass.
Not sugary love.

But the divine yes to both the body and the light.
To descending without shame.
To ascending without superiority.

So when you walk the chakra path—
don’t skip steps.
Don’t cling to the sky.
Don’t fear the ground.

The goal isn’t to escape the story.
It’s to know you’re more than it—
and still live inside it with love.

So let’s start, shall we?

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II. Root Chakra – The Wound of Safety

The Root chakra forms before your name is spoken.
It weaves itself in water — in the dark cathedral of your mother’s womb.

This is where the story begins.
Not when you’re born.
But as you’re becoming.

Before the world gets a chance to program you, you are already coded.
You are built from two bloodlines—
fused from your mother’s body and your father’s imprint,
a cellular collage of stories, silences, and unfinished songs.

You don’t just inherit their eye color or their bone structure.
You inherit their fears, their griefs, their unprocessed emotions.

The baby does not grow in isolation.
It swims in the mother’s unconscious.
Modern science confirms what mystics have always known:
whatever the mother feels, the baby feels.
Stress hormones, sadness, joy — they don’t just visit.
They imprint.

So before you even take your first breath,
you are already breathing someone else’s memory.

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In Kabbalistic tradition, Root is connected with the sefirah of Malkuth. It’s the house of the soul in physical matter. It literally works like an anchor for the spirit.

In Ayurveda, this is the domain of Prakruti (here as the Creatrix) — the primordial fabric that spins your being.
She is the mother of the three gunas:

• Tamas — inertia, form, the pull toward stillness and structure.

• Rajas — movement, desire, the spark that makes things rise.

• Sattva — clarity, harmony, the shine of truth unclouded.

These are the threads she uses to weave you.
Your unique blend is not random — it’s biological wiring. You can call it past lives. I think of it as ancestral debris.

An interesting thought: What if the past life you feel is from the ancestor that was you? How cool’s that?

Jung always claimed that baby is not born tabula rasa (blank slate).

Besides your bloodline structure, the collective unconscious is always there. Connecting us all. You are but a piece in an endless puzzle.

“The unborn child already lives in the archetypal world,” Jung once wrote.
“It is not born into a vacuum, but into an ancient story.”

Steiner believed that a baby chooses its womb. My opinion on this is still brewing, but I am eager to hear yours!

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Now, what does a baby know of fear?

Everything.

Before thought, before words, the baby lives in the most primal question:
“Will I survive?”

The first fear is to be dropped.
The second is to be unloved.
These fears live in the root, coiled like serpents.
They don’t leave with age. They wait— for any time your ground feels shaky again.

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When You Are Constantly On Edge

When someone’s root chakra is out of balance, it’s obvious.

Their reptilian brain is in charge. Life is full of adrenalin. Cortisol. Fight or flight.
They live in a constant survival loop.
Even if life looks fine on the outside, the body doesn’t believe it. The nervous system is scanning for threat 24/7.

Money is a problem — not just when there’s not enough.
Even having a lot can make you feel anxious, like it could all vanish any second.
Sex becomes purely instinctual, not pleasurable.
Sometimes people chase it even when it hurts, just to remember they’re still here.

This is where bladder issues often appear.
It’s the center of unprocessed fear, anger, and boundary violations.

I had years of chronic bladder infections. One year I was on antibiotics for months.
Still, I kept peeing blood. Bright red. A warning.
I was in a toxic relationship. No stable home. No idea where to begin.

So I started where I could:
I left the relationship.
I found a job — not my dream job, just one that gave me a schedule, a paycheck, a sense of ground.
When your roots are exposed, the first thing you need to do is plant yourself.

The sense associated with this chakra is smell — the most primal of all.
Our ancestors could literally sniff out danger.
The body remembers.

If you grew up in a home that was chaotic, unsafe, violent, or addicted —
you carry that root wound.
You may have learned how to survive, but your body never really felt safe.

As a kid your sense of survival depended on your parents.

Now, you are a grown up and it’s up to you to be that sense of home for yourself.

Sometimes, before you can forgive the stories of your past, you have to just reframe them. This is not escapism. It’s still survival.

You have to look for gold in the mud.

Before I could forgive my mother for hitting me, I had to realized she was hit even harder.

On top of that, I saw something else in the way she raised me.

A structure.

My mother is a good woman. She grew up in different times. I know she loves me more than anything in the world. She just had a strange way of showing it. Now I had two options: keep the victimized story on loop, or break free from it. I chose the latter and it literally changed my life.

I didn’t just break the ancestral wound, I started living life beyond my family’s dreams. I showed them a new way.

Am I grateful for the pain? No, not really. But it happened. Nothing I can do about it.

This is just MY story but I am not always against pain. When turned into fire, when it becomes that rage, it is powerful. More so for someone who is like me, naturally prone to more laziness. But laziness and living grand life don’t walk hand in hand.

I break my body daily in work outs. It literally hurts. But it’s a good pain.