Vachon Imagined

One of my favorite movies is Wish. For those who have not seen it, it tells the story of a King who collects the wishes of his people. He decides which ones will come to fruition and which ones will remain forgotten. The people praise him. They look to him with gratitude. And in that praise, he finds his identity, his worth, and his power.

But eventually the people begin to realize something: their dreams have become his fuel.

He is not simply protecting their wishes. He is using them to define his own existence. He decides what is worthy, what is possible, and what should be allowed to live. Their imagination becomes something filtered through his judgment.

Look around, without judgment, and you can see versions of this everywhere.

An artist creates from a place of inspiration, but eventually the creation may no longer carry the voice of the artist. It carries the voice of the corporation behind it.

A doctor, trained through years of knowledge and experience, may sometimes begin listening less to the person in front of them and more to the patterns they have learned. The history becomes louder than the individual. The possibility becomes limited by what has already been known.

Whenever power is placed into human hands, there is a possibility for distortion. A person can be diminished, controlled, or made to feel incapable. But there is also another side: power can bring praise, admiration, wealth, and influence. This is how politics, religion, education, and many institutions can operate—not because they are inherently wrong, but because anything created by humans can reflect both wisdom and limitation.

A child enters this world full of imagination, curiosity, and wonder. Then slowly, voices begin to surround them.

Do this.

Don’t say that.

This is how it is done.

This is what you can become.

Some of these voices guide us. Some protect us. Some teach us. Coaches, mentors, parents, and communities all have their place. We would not be where we are without the people who have shared their knowledge and helped us grow.

But somewhere along the way, we can forget the difference between receiving guidance and surrendering ourselves.

Returning to yourself can be difficult because the voices have been there for so long. They have become familiar. They sound like your own thoughts.

But beneath every instruction, beneath every expectation, beneath every identity placed upon you, there is something that was never given to you and therefore cannot be taken away.

You.

Without judgment, we allow things to exist as they are. We see the teacher, the institution, the system, the person, the power. We do not have to destroy what exists. We only have to see clearly.

Because without you, these things have no name.

Without you, they have no existence.

So what do we do?

We allow.

We seek clarity.

And we return again and again to the source beneath every name, every belief, and every voice.

The name above all names.

The place where nothing was ever stolen because nothing was ever separate.