She floats somewhere in the middle and watches those who surround her — many sides, many halves of a whole.

She, an observer who can see through their many perspectives.

She records in her spirit what she sees and hears of these sides — being led from one story to the next, without judgment, without accusations, without thought. Each story, each life lapping up against her. She has a moment of hesitation, always hesitation, before she allows these stories to seep in.

Because there will always be feelings.

Joy, amusement, wonder, confusion, pain — FEAR.

This fear, as she has finally come to understand, is not only her own, but the fear of the whole — broken and separate. It used to threaten to drown her, to take her down in its undertow. She tried hard to stay away from it’s pull. But being an observer, well, it has always gotten the best of her. To be curious. To know what others might feel. To discover all the other sides and find an understanding in each. She has been a witness these many years of her life to arguments and accusations — words hurled at others; cutting, crashing, heavy and cold.

She has, at times, put her foot into these arguments between sides if only to test the waters of where her own beliefs might lay — to test even if she has beliefs to call her own. She swims from one side to the other and then back again, changing her mind when a new perspective is given to her — much to the annoyance and accusations of others. Her only defense in this is that she cannot see all that is underneath the surface — that she cannot know. To her, there is only one absolute truth: she knows nothing. Oh, she can feel and she can make decisions based on these feelings. But feelings change.

But to know? To know something so certainly that you would die for it, or kill another for it? No, this is a knowing she can never possess.

It is this understanding — that she simply does not know — that allows her to float so perfectly in the middle.

But in moments of weakness, in her own fear, she has wondered why she will not choose a side and stick with it. Why her heart is not devout for one thing, one thought, one truth. She has been accused of not having an opinion, of not being passionate, of changing her mind, of being too weak.

Of not caring.

Once she believed them and her heart was heavy. And she felt alone.

But then one day, as two sides of a whole separated out of fear, she found herself once more in the middle, where she was at home. And she did what was natural to her — she looked through the eyes of each side and she saw what each perceived. And she understood.

And in her understanding, she found that

she cared for each.

She cared so deeply and always did. It was her care for each that allowed her mind and her eyes to be open wide enough that she could see the separate as the whole. And she wasn’t alone — for in each she could see bits and pieces of herself reflected back. She too was part of the whole.

So now, as she floats somewhere in the middle, she senses a shift.

A mighty tide is coming. She can feel the power of it hurtling forward — ready to bring them all together once more. It is in written words, spoken words, actions, cries and shouts. It is in tears, hugs, laughter and fear — it is in the separate, desperate halves looking to become whole again.

But, of course, she doesn’t know this for certain.

So she will continue to float in the middle — watching, witnessing and recording in her heart, mind, spirit and soul the unfolding of a new whole. And should she be called upon and accused once again for not choosing a side, she will say that she did not choose a side because she came to an understanding. That through this understanding she threw away, once and for all, the mantle of judgment and instead chose love.

Because love is whole.

Love sits in the middle.

Love is the centre of everything and because of its nature, cannot be one-sided.