How do you sit in its presence?
How do you co-exist with it?
Do you touch it? Can you?
Or is it like the shadow that must come with the sun?
Is it the attachment to this world; to outcomes; and feared consequences?
IS IT NECESSARY?
It’s like a wound, but perhaps a lot worse because only you can see it. And it doesn’t make sense to any one else because how do you make sense of a world that you don’t live in?
And yet, we are all walking around with little packages within us; little packages full of heartbreaks, longings, tears and endless disappointments in these mighty, fragile hearts of ours.
And then what do you do with that package? Do you store it somewhere dark and cold, where no one can access it until a terrible memory recall forces it out of it’s hibernation?
Do you share it?
It’s mighty risky, this business of sharing because you run the risk of being belittled. Vulnerability is always pretty when it works but terribly ugly when it doesn’t.
Do you hope that somewhere, somehow, someone just as frightened and as hurt as you are will say to you with all sincerity:
‘I also feel a similar pain.’
In the end, it’s in those moments- those moments of tremendous risks of vulnerability- that pay off and allow you a beautiful glimpse into a shared experience of being perfectly imperfect humans.