The parts of ourselves

Wild and free

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“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” – Rumi

There’s a scared little boy at the center of me. Sometimes I catch glimpses of him, standing there in a world that feels both achingly familiar and impossibly strange. He’s always trying to be something else, someone else – anything but himself.

The Boy Who Learned to Disappear

He’s always searching. For answers. For love. For warmth in a world that feels so cold sometimes. He just wants to be seen. Really seen. Not the surface stuff, but the deep-down truth of who he is.

But life had different plans, didn’t it? His story started with pain, with ridicule, with a loneliness that cut to the bone. Trauma. Self-doubt. And yes – self-loathing. Never quite sure where he belonged in this world. When things got hard, he’d either lash out or vanish. Usually seeking refuge in the woods.

“I don’t like fighting,” he’d say, over and over. So he learned to read people instead. To crawl inside their heads and understand their motivations. Not for connection – for protection.

The Man Who Learned to Take Space

Somehow this boy shares space with a man. An adult who’s done the work. Who’s learned to navigate this world, to heal, to take up space without apologizing. This man dreams of making a difference, of making his life mean something. Of finding some kind of… fulfillment.

When boy meets man

When the two meet they often seem to fight. Oh, the arguments they have, and they learned from the best: his parents. Always fighting with himself. Mostly about things that haven’t even happened yet. Often they seemed to want the opposite, but deep down they each needed the same thing:

The Spirit That Holds It All

But there’s something else here too: A spirit. Loving, joyful, and truth-seeking. Finding wonder and humor in the smallest things. Looking at both boy and man with such complete acceptance it almost hurts to witness.

This spirit doesn’t see separation. Doesn’t judge. Just loves. Just holds space.

The Truth That Changes Everything

Maybe they’re both flawed. Maybe they’re both perfect. Maybe they’re opposite sides of the same coin, or maybe they’re opposing truths that are both right at the same time.

And here’s the thing that breaks my heart wide open: The spirit doesn’t choose. It holds space for all of it. The boy’s terror and the man’s dreams. The hiding and the emerging. The darkness and the light.

Maybe that’s been the lesson all along: There is room for all of it

Because in this space – this sacred, timeless space – nothing needs to be fixed. Nothing needs to be solved.

Everything, exactly as it is, belongs.

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