I am alone as it happens to be, this evening. Not a rare phenomenon, but one that seems to grab my attention, because of the hopes and the fears that it encourages. Allowing yourself to be alone, without constant distractions in the various forms they come in creates a space that you can inhabit, alone, let the inner voice find its own pace and rhythm, to alert you, to inform you, to communicate with you of what is here and what is not. Of course what we call as being alone is a state or a perception that can be embodied in the most secluded areas and in the most buzzing and crowded spaces – what you do with it and how welcoming you are of it may decide how revealing and how nourishing it can be for you.
For me, this aloneness has lately been, in many cases, filled with a longing, a pulsating inner voice that I’ve learned to associate with the inner child in me and more specifically to the child that just needs acknowledgment, having been conditioned for so long to be ignored, suppressed or mistook for being a personality pattern or a signal and an urgency for coming to the conclusion that things have to change, that I need to move, that I need to act, that I am in danger. Well, lately and more consciously these past couple of days, I’ve been naive and simple enough to just put my hand between my chest and stomach, sometimes a hand on my neck in a compassionate way, in an understanding way, in a ‘I know, I know, I can see you, I can hear you, I’m here’ kind of way, having the hope that this would be adequate or enough in relieving the stress, the worry, the concern of where I am, what I’m doing, who I’ve come to be and to eventually rewire the conditioning that this voice is necessary to alert me and to remind me.
While the inner voice can guide us in many ways and convey messages that we should listen to, this ‘longing’ voice turns out to be adequately acknowledged and soothed, even for a short period of time, with this simple touch, warmth and compassion. What initially can be mistaken as an incoming emotional storm, sounding the alarm for the closest self-soothing mechanism you can get your hands on, moments after it shows its true face, as the voice that just needs a bit of your time. This voice, that now that I’m noticing, is showing its head more frequently now, or only now I’ve become conscious of its presence and its intention, is now more than welcome to come and hang whenever. I’ll be here waiting for it for whenever the need arises, saving the seat next to me just for that voice, with an eagerness to hear all about it and to return a warm smile to reassure that everything is going to be just fine and that it should visit more often.
Awenesty. 