Fullness that is free

Sunday evening. We’ve just come home. People see us as a strong couple, standing side by side, there for each other. And it’s true.

He has gone somewhere I don’t much like. Among people whose paths, I feel, are already heading elsewhere. But it’s his place of acceptance, a space where he can be who he is: in laughter and in silence, with all his wounds, unspoken truths and shadow sides.

Once, a moment like this would have woken my Husk. The part that protects would have whispered that when he leaves, I lose something. Today it’s quiet. And I’m unpacking.

Unpacking myself

Only the last boxes are left. They’re also the first ones I packed: my most personal things. Books, notebooks, drawings, paintings, pens. My secrets and my memories. My self.

I’m unpacking myself here, in a new space, in a shared home.

It makes me think of what the Semilla mark means. The small arc, the inner self, has its place inside the large, outer one. Not outside it, not hidden away in a box. That’s exactly what I’m doing now: giving my inner self a place in the life I live on the outside.

I can feel him

It’s seven. He said he’d be back by eight. I can feel him even though he isn’t here. I feel his joy and his freedom: how he switches off and recharges at the same time, how fully he is in the present, immersed in the world, in himself and in us.

A tear runs down my cheek. I’m grateful. That he has the courage to live with me. That he has the courage to face himself. And that, because of this, I’m full too. Not because of him, but because he shows me how free fullness can be.

How free fullness is. How full freedom is.

I text him that it’s fine. If he’s enjoying himself, he can stay a bit longer. But not too long, because I’ve been promised a massage. His reply comes straight away: Thank you, I’ll tell you everything when I’m home. I feel excitement and calm. And I can see his smile.

We’re both happy, even though we’re each somewhere else. Happiness and freedom. A moment of presence. What more do we need?

Found

I searched for myself for so long. I was so hard on myself for so long that I looked down on myself. My Shears, the part that cuts so that things grow nicely, cut very deep.

Today I feel found. Full. Seen in my truth, and loved.

For me, love doesn’t mean someone filling my emptiness. It means that with him I have the courage to unpack my own things and find a place for them. To sort out who I want to be, for myself and for him.

And you?

Closeness and freedom don’t exclude each other, even if life has often taught us otherwise. If something in you tightens every time someone close takes space for themselves, it isn’t weakness. It’s a part that once learned that leaving means losing.

Where in your life is there room for your inner self?