Sitting With Myself.

It’s never been so sweet to be with myself as it is now, perhaps it starts with a little bit of numbness and pain, a little bit of restlessness and confusion— but the answers always come. The answer to true rapture and love always come in time.

I’ve numbed myself with so many dependencies and false beliefs. I’ve numbed and emptied my heart with the perception that there is so much to be done, that I’m not proficient enough, that I shouldn’t even try to give myself space to do something new that a sacred voice within me longs to immerse itself into. It’s profusely and perplexingly arduous to learn sometimes, especially when it comes to what I devotedly care about, like teaching and being with children and painting and singing. The experience is turned into a challenge so harrowing to start and keep it up when my critical voice keeps finding excuses to not even try.

The hardest time for me is perhaps when I come back from work. There is this sinking sensation the moment I step inside, it feels like crumbling a little, a wrinkled piece of paper that wants to be straightened and written on again. It’s hard to sit with myself at that time and just be loving instead of empty and numb, there is almost nothing to hear, perhaps there is the indifferent voice of my little younger self who used to come home with nobody there— blinds drawn and so much darkness. No wonder why I don’t like the curtains drawn now.

It occurs to me though, that it is essentially the path of perpetually questioning where it goes wrong. Its not always obvious to clearly see the motives and intentions of my decisions, and when unaware they go astray and diverge into ones the muffle my intention of growth and transformation. A little smile forms on my face in gratitude, since I have a holiday which would allow to reflect and take it slow a little, healing the cracked, pointed parts of me that crave softness and love.

I remember now and truly understand why I liked to escape holidays and wanted to fast forward to starting work or school again. Pain and unease could sometimes ooze out of the lonely moments at home, and the critical voice within me wants to protect my ego from that. Yet, when I surrender, the sweetness of healing is often incomparable and beyond anything conceivable. There is nothing more fulfilling than healing parts of ourselves which lie in cracks and uneven lines.

There is nothing sweeter than when the light of love dissolves almost every part of who we are.