I don’t know how many chances we get in this life to make a real connection.
They say you should endeavor to be complete, all by yourself, for yourself, with yourself. Then, whenever someone does show up, you’re not needing them to fix you or to fill any holes — or, most importantly, to make you happy.
I’ve spent most of my life alone… I still haven’t figured out how to be whole, by my own wits and design. Most of my personal and emotional growth happens in relationships, whether they’re shitty or not. There’s something deeper going on, and I’ve been understanding that more as I get older.
What’s remarkable is that friends, family, and found family show up, always… Especially when you’re open to it.
I know I’ve been a proper asshole at times over the years, working out the kinks and wrinkles in my identity. Fortunately, my keen (and constant) introspection and sensitivities never let a damn thing slide… And it’s not always easy to find the courage to apologize.
Genuine friendship is rare, and it takes time, patience, and a conscious commitment. It takes work. This is, naturally, the most critical thing we must be willing to do and be for ourselves — to mature and elevate the place from whence the vibration emits.
To be able to sit in our own skin, comfortable with the critic and the praiser, sounds useful in the world.
To be sure, this informs and deeply affects matters of the heart. Of course it does. Some of us try to defer it forever. Some of us get stuck in a neutral space. Some of us don’t think about it too much and just keep moving.
It’s all good, in the end. Ultimately, all the choices made in this lifetime may receive a brief review, but will hardly cause a supermassive black hole.
If we wish to glean the morsels and meanings and lessons and memories, it only matters now. It matters in these waking hours, as once we emerge, the minutes and seconds are only ever counting down.
I don’t know how many chances we get to make a real connection.
And it doesn’t really matter.