When I am still my thoughts go inside. They wind their way through the labyrinth of my internal experience without the safety of linear time. Each split in the path is not a decision of right or left, but rather a breaking off. Some go right and some go left. So many splits, I can no longer tally the various parts of me, their experiences, and their journeys.
A piercing scream startles me from my fog, growing calls for help coming from the far corners. I am overwhelmed by the complexity of myself as cries, shouts, and screams echo throughout the maze.
I want to run, but I don’t know where I’m starting from and no longer know where to go as the distress begins to echo throughout the narrow halls filling my ears. Panic comes with questions: What do I do? Where do I go? Am I the one calling for help or the responder?
Everything within me wants to find the nearest escape route, to cut myself off from the chaos and disappear into the external world. Something also tells me to stay.
I don’t want to leave them there…these hurting pieces of me longing to be loved back to life, but how can I rescue them when I am so lost myself?
My heart swells with helplessness. “Which one am I?” I scream at the darkness, but the distress calls bouncing off the walls only intensify and surround me.
I am trapped. My heart breaks, releasing tears. The liquid acknowledging powerlessness and giving silent voice to the desire to meet the pain within me.
Which one am I? I am desperate to know who I am so that I can help the others, but I can’t tell.
Then a splash lands on my hand in front of me and with that I know. I am this one…the one crying and refusing to run.
I let the tears fall and let my heart break with the pain of a million pieces of me: so hopeless, so lost.
“I am here,” I whisper into the dark. I am with you. I will find you. I will not stop until everyone is found.
Tears evaporate and I gather my thoughts to plan…where to go, when and how, but then I lose myself again and realize that first I must learn to stay with myself.
With a deep breath, I fall back into the pain laced with gratitude and compassion for the whole of me; and I wait to feel the tears fall again.
This has to be first. Searching and finding can only come after I can stay with myself, but that seems so cruel, so unfair to those waiting, longing for simple safety and love.
A rustling nearby draws my attention and blinking my eyes I see movement through my tears. They have come to me.
I was wrong. Staying with myself is not first or important, it is everything.
I thought their cries were calling me, calling me to seek and find, but it’s the tears that are my calling. It’s staying when I want to run. It’s feeling when I want to numb.
I thought I had to search for my whole self. All I need to do is follow the tears and stay aware, because when I stay where truth meets compassion, my whole self finds me.

I am trapped. My heart breaks releasing tears. The liquid acknowledging the powerlessness and giving voice to the longing to meet the pain within me.
Which one am I? I am desperate to know who I am so that I can help the others, but I can’t tell.
Then a splash lands on my hand in front of me and with that I know. I am this one…the one crying and refusing to run.
I let the tears fall and let my heart break with the pain of a million pieces of me: so hopeless, so lost.
“I am here,” I whisper into the dark. I am with you. I will find you. I will not stop until everyone is found.
Tears evaporate and I gather my thoughts to plan…where to go, when and how, but then I lose myself again and realize that first I must learn to stay with myself.
With a deep breath, I fall back into the pain laced with gratitude and compassion for the whole of me; and I wait to feel the tears fall again.
This has to be first. Searching and finding can only come after I can stay with myself, but that seems so cruel, so unfair to those waiting, longing for simple safety and love.
A rustling nearby draws my attention and blinking my eyes I see movement through my tears. They have come to me.
I was wrong. Staying with myself is not first or important, it is everything.
I thought their cries were calling me, calling me to seek and find, but it’s the tears that are my calling. It’s staying when I want to run. It’s feeling when I want to numb.
I thought I had to search for my whole self. All I need to do is follow the tears and stay aware, because when I stay where truth meets compassion, my whole self finds me.