What happens when you get all the love in the world, but your world still feels empty?
As seasons of my life change, as people come and go, what remains steady is this inner need for certain parts of me to be seen.
No matter how close some people in my life could come, there’s always that one part that remains hidden in the shadows.
How come nobody’s eyes, warm embrace, or touch ever gets to enter that place?
The Meeting
It was one of those days when I decided to write my heart out.
All that’s been left unsaid, all that seems undeserving of being spoken, all that I fear to verbalise, even deep within my thoughts.
The day after, I started to read.
It’s scary to read your unfiltered words. I suppose it’s one of those paradoxes, where subconsciously, we always sense how much our subconscious still hides. Perhaps it’s in our nature that even when we learn to appreciate truth, there’s always a part of us that will grasp tightly to what’s familiar.
The Light
I wrote those words, but I read them as if they weren’t mine.
Somehow, it’s always easier to feel compassion for others, because reading in such a way, I found no agony, only love and compassion.
Meanings shifted, and I felt seen and understood.
That hidden corner, unreachable to anyone before, has now become lit.
There wasn’t anyone else’s gaze, embrace, or love involved.
Just my two attentive eyes.
The Seed
It made me wonder, is the only thing we’re truly seeking and lacking in life the love for oneself?
Is all this incessant chase for love, meanings, successes, and various games we play nothing but a desperate call for oneself to finally bring the centre of gravity back within one’s navel?
Could it be that no amount of love from the outside, no matter what form or shape it takes, can replace what can be soothed only with tender gaze of your own eyes?
That most vital spot within you where what exists is only your own; what lies can only be held by the palms you carry in your hands.
The seed of love that you are is nourished amd grown by acceptance of who you are.
When you get it all, what remains is what you still haven’t given to yourself.
Self-acceptance.
Selflessness
We talk about selflessness, about sacrifice for others, about a human being able to go beyond the limits of what is possible, only when giving to another. But I wonder, if it’s ever truly possible to reach such heights, without having compassion and love for yourself?
When we give to another, we receive more than ever. Perhaps in the same way, when we pour love into parts of ourselves that have been left unattended for too long, maybe others receive as well. Perhaps when we learn to walk with our spine upright, our shoulders held back, our breath deep and alive, those around us observe subtle shifts happening in them as well. Their spine becoming more supportive of the battles they carry, their shoulder more proud of the multitudes they own, their breath more binding of the lows and highs they orbit in.
We heal through others and with others. Yet to a certain extent, we are always alone. The spark is born in us, but we tend to flames both in solitude and in union with others. To think we can do it all alone is delusional. Just the same, to ignore the need to sit with ourselves, close doors to everything else, and have an inner conversation that nobody else can witness or interfere with, is madness of equal proportions.
To assume that we can be loved by others, but never ourselves, is a thought that feels sinister, yet somehow we live by it more than we are aware of.
I felt selflessness like never before when I entered that sacred corner of existence, where nothing lives between me and myself, other than love.
They say we are all one; maybe that is why learning to love oneself means becoming selfless.
Perhaps that’s why, only when we stop chasing around us, do we find what we’ve been looking for, in the last place we turned to –
inside of us.
