I feel too much. Everything around me echoes through my heart on its way out into the world. Sometimes I hide it well. I think. Sometimes it takes me down. I don’t even know what its purpose is.
Sure, I love people. But it’s not that simple. I feel everything. I feel the changes in energy in the room like vibrations along the floor board. If I notice it, if I breathe and take a moment, I’m more likely to separate it from myself and ride it out. But life moves so fast. Emotions swirl endlessly. And sometimes it’s hard to see them before I’ve become a part of them. Like melting into the background, except that the background becomes the foreground, and I’m swallowed up unknowingly by the sadness or exhaustion or hyperactivity that surrounds me.
At some point, when I was around 9 or 10 years old, I became acutely aware of this. And I decided then and there that I would surround myself with the energy of others, and work to soothe us all.
When asked at a conference a few years back, what is your purpose, I decided that my purpose is to create a space for others to be their most genuine selves.
But really. I’m not so sure.
I think what I meant was to create a space where others could be themselves so that I could be my most genuine self. Sounds manipulative; it’s not. It’s self-preservation.
Out there the world moves so fast. Every day. Every second of every hour, and it keeps speeding up. And all I can do is breathe. And search for the intersection between myself and everyone else, so that I can sit deeply; alone. Securely. With confidence. Without reservation. Sit deeply, alone. Once I do so, the line between myself and others becomes clear. And I can let go of what does not belong to me.
A bleeding heart is a gift. But it carries a sandbag around it.
Sit deeply, alone. So that I can find a way to sit deeply with the loved ones who need company right now. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I’ve not been who I expected to be. But my heart is right here. Just, afraid.