There is something about this time of year that invites us to think about the unseen forms of connection in our lives. As Halloween approaches and some people observe Samhain, the ancient seasonal festival associated with the turning toward winter, ancestors, and the dead, or Día de los Muertos, that honors and welcomes back the souls of deceased family members and ancestors, we find ourselves thinking about those who came before us, the people and figures who inspire us, and the sources of wisdom and protection we can draw on when life feels uncertain.
I've been thinking about how meaningful it can be to intentionally bring these sources of support into our inner worlds. Sometimes the figure who helps us feel protected is someone we have known and loved. Sometimes it is an ancestor we never met, a spiritual or mythological figure, a character from a story, or an imagined mentor who embodies the qualities we most need. We might picture someone who is steady when we feel overwhelmed, fiercely protective when we struggle to stand up for ourselves, or deeply compassionate when we are tempted to turn against ourselves.
This isn't necessarily about believing that these figures are literally present with us, nor does it require a particular spiritual worldview. It is an invitation to explore what happens when we give our minds and bodies an experience of care, protection, and connection to return to. For people who have lived through trauma, especially experiences in which care was absent, inconsistent, or intertwined with fear, that can be a meaningful practice.
When safety has been difficult to feel
Trauma can shape more than our memories of what happened. It can influence what we expect from other people, what we believe about ourselves, and how we respond when something feels threatening. We may know intellectually that we are safe in the present while still feeling braced for rejection, criticism, abandonment, or harm. We may have difficulty asking for help, trusting our own judgment, or imagining that someone could respond to our needs with care.
When these patterns develop in relationships, it makes sense that they may not shift simply because we tell ourselves that we are safe now. Our reactions have histories. They may reflect what we once needed to do to get through situations in which we had little control or reliable support.
Healing can involve learning that the present is not always a repetition of the past. It can also involve developing an internal experience of support that we can begin to access even when no one else is immediately available. This doesn't mean we should have to meet all our own needs or stop seeking care from others. Human beings need relationships. But there is something powerful about being able to carry a felt sense of support with us, rather than feeling entirely alone whenever we encounter difficulty.
Imagining the care we needed
In EMDR therapy, the preparation phase includes resource development and installation: practices that help people identify and strengthen inner resources they can draw on as they navigate difficult experiences. Depending on the person, these resources might include a meaningful memory, a felt sense of safety, a supportive relationship, or an imagined figure who embodies qualities such as steadiness, compassion, wisdom, or protection. For someone whose early relationships did not provide reliable care, an imagined caring mentor can offer a way to explore what supportive, dependable care might feel like.
This idea also appears in a contemplative program I sometimes teach, Nalanda Institute's Compassion-Based Resilience Training (CBRT). In Module VIII, Embodying a Resilient Self and Life with Caring Imagery, participants practice visualizing role models of wise care. These figures may be real or imagined, and the qualities they embody become a source of inspiration for our own development. Rather than simply thinking about compassion or courage as abstract ideals, we use imagery to explore what it might mean to experience and embody these qualities more fully.
I appreciate this approach because it doesn't ask us to manufacture a new self from scratch. Instead, it invites us to recognize and nurture capacities that can become difficult to access when we are caught in patterns of fear, shame, or self-protection. We might imagine a mentor who responds to our vulnerability with kindness rather than criticism, an ancestor whose courage inspires us, or a protective figure who reminds us that we have choices. By returning to these images, we practice relating to ourselves and the world from a different place.
You might picture a wise elder sitting beside you during a difficult conversation, a compassionate figure helping you meet a painful memory, or an imagined mentor encouraging you to take your own needs seriously. You can ask yourself: What does this figure understand about me? What qualities do they embody? What changes when I imagine facing this moment with their support?
The point isn't to convince yourself that something happened when it didn't, or to replace difficult memories with a more pleasant story. It is to create an experience of support in the present. What does protection feel like? What becomes possible when you imagine that you don't have to face everything alone? What might shift if you could approach a challenging situation with a little more steadiness, dignity, or trust in yourself?
Research on imagery-based approaches offers some reason to take these questions seriously. In a small 2009 study, Chris Brewin and colleagues explored imagery rescripting as a stand-alone treatment for people experiencing depression and intrusive memories. The researchers observed improvements following treatment, along with changes in beliefs, rumination, and behavior. The study was not a trial of EMDR resourcing or CBRT's caring imagery practice, so it cannot establish the effectiveness of those specific approaches. But it does offer one example of how working with mental imagery may be associated with meaningful psychological change.
More than one source of refuge
I find a related idea in Lama Rod Owens's Seven Homecomings practice, which draws on Buddhist refuge practices while expanding the sources of support we might recognize in our lives. Alongside guides, wisdom teachings, and community, the practice includes ancestors, the earth, silence, and self. Each offers a different way of coming home to a sense of connection and belonging.
I see a meaningful resonance here with caring imagery in CBRT. In both, we are invited to widen our sense of where support can come from. We might feel strengthened by a teacher's wisdom, the memory of someone who cared for us, the courage of an ancestor, the steadiness of the earth beneath our feet, or an imagined figure who embodies the kind of compassion we want to cultivate. These sources of refuge need not be interchangeable, and each person will relate to them differently. What matters is discovering which forms of connection genuinely help us feel more supported and more able to meet our lives.
This can be particularly meaningful when our family histories are complicated. Not everyone experiences their biological ancestors as a source of safety, and no one needs to romanticize a lineage that includes harm. We can choose which relationships, stories, traditions, and figures we want to draw close. For some, that might mean a beloved grandparent or family member who offered protection. For others, it might mean an ancestor they never knew, a chosen family, a spiritual teacher, a community, or a lineage of people whose courage and wisdom they admire.
The invitation is not to deny the pain that exists in our histories. It is to widen the circle of what we can draw from. We are shaped by our experiences, but those experiences are not the only influences available to us.
Practicing the qualities we want to live
Protective and inspiring figures can be more than comforting images. They can help us explore qualities we want to embody in our own lives. Perhaps we are drawn to a figure's courage, patience, discernment, warmth, or ability to respond thoughtfully under pressure. Imagining that figure in a difficult moment can help us get curious about how those qualities might translate into our own choices.
If you tend to become quiet when someone is disappointed in you, what might a protective figure help you remember? Perhaps that another person's feelings matter, but they are not yours alone to manage. If you become overwhelmed by uncertainty, what might a wise mentor encourage you to do next? Perhaps pause, orient to the present, and take one manageable step rather than trying to solve everything at once. If you are quick to judge yourself, what might a compassionate figure help you see about the circumstances you have been navigating?
You don't have to force yourself to feel the same confidence or compassion that you imagine in the figure. You can begin by noticing what draws you to them and what becomes easier to imagine in their presence. Over time, the practice may become a way to rehearse new possibilities: setting a boundary, asking for help, speaking honestly, or treating yourself with more care.
This is one reason I find the relationship between contemplative practice and trauma therapy so interesting. Meditation and visualization can help us intentionally return to qualities we want to cultivate. Therapy can also help us understand why certain responses became so familiar and work through the experiences that continue to shape them. Neither requires us to become perfectly calm or unshakably confident. The aim is to have more options when life becomes difficult.
Protection isn't always peaceful
It's worth remembering that feeling protected does not always mean feeling relaxed. Sometimes protection looks like anger that helps us recognize a violation, grief that allows us to acknowledge a loss, or the courage to step away from a relationship that isn't safe. A truly caring figure would not necessarily tell us to make peace with every situation or to be endlessly forgiving. They might help us recognize when something is wrong and support us in responding.
For this reason, the practice should be responsive to the person doing it. Imagining a caregiver or ancestor may feel comforting to one person and distressing to another. Turning inward can sometimes intensify difficult feelings rather than soothe them. If that happens, there is no need to push through. You might keep your eyes open, orient to the room, feel your feet against the floor, imagine a more distant or symbolic source of support, or explore the practice with a therapist who can help you find an approach that feels manageable.
And an imagined source of care is not a substitute for actual safety, practical support, or trauma treatment when those are needed. We deserve protection in our relationships and environments, not just a better way to cope with their absence.
A small practice for this season
If it feels supportive, you might take a few quiet moments this week to consider who or what helps you feel held. You don't need to create an elaborate visualization or believe in anything you don't believe in. Simply begin with a figure, presence, or symbol that represents a quality you would like more access to.
Perhaps you imagine an ancestor who wishes you well, a wise teacher, a protective animal, the earth beneath you, or a fictional character whose courage you admire. Notice what this figure represents. What do they understand about you? How might they respond to the difficulty you are facing? What would it be like to let yourself receive that support for a moment, without having to earn it or explain why you need it?
Then consider what you might carry from that encounter into your day. It could be a phrase, a gesture, an image, or simply the reminder that you have more than one way to meet a difficult moment. You might return to it before a conversation, when an old fear arises, or when you need help remembering that you have choices.
This time of year can invite us to reflect on the people and traditions that have shaped us, the wisdom we want to carry forward, and the kinds of care we want to make more present in our lives. Whether we experience that connection spiritually, symbolically, or through the imagination, we can use it as an opportunity to practice relating to ourselves with more protection and compassion.
We don't have to face every difficult moment from the same place we once did. Sometimes healing begins with discovering that, alongside the voices and experiences that taught us to brace ourselves, we can cultivate other sources of guidance: a wiser perspective, a more compassionate inner voice, a sense of belonging, and the growing ability to stand beside ourselves when we need it most.
Sources & Further Reading
Brewin, C. R., Wheatley, J., Patel, T., et al. (2009). Imagery rescripting as a brief stand-alone treatment for depressed patients with intrusive memories. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 47(7), 569–576.
Owens, Lama Rod. The Power of the Seven Homecomings Practice.
EMDR International Association: Information about EMDR therapy and resource development.