During the past two weeks I became aware of a contraction in my chest. A very felt sense of a tight sort-of discomfort. As I sensed into it, an awareness of doubt and sadness arose.
It didn’t want to be explained.
It didn’t need defining.
Analysis and intellectual understanding wasn’t going to serve it.
Moving into the contraction, the thickness, I realized that I’d been subtly pushing against it. Resisting it. As I realized this I was able to move into it, fully make contact with it instead of pushing against it. Make room for its expansion.
This. Is. What. It. Wanted.
To have space just to be. To be held. Gently. Contactfully. Without words.
It was then that the contraction began to unfurl.
Last night my beloved Dan held space for the tears that needed to release from that contraction. My being bore witness unto itself ... Dan’s presence bore witness. IT, the grand All-That-Is that is all-of-it bore witness. I was SEEN.
No words. No definition. No analysis. Just space for its unfurling.
This morning, in the place where there’d been constriction, contraction, there is dense, gooey, raw, rich warmth. Depth. Vibrancy. Big tenderness. The compost of the sadness and doubt yielded that.
This. Human. Life.