Trish Rempel
Jan 5, 2016 · 1 min read

This cave of self-inflicted loneliness and starvation of deeper feeling is my safe place too. There is something about this time of year that makes this especially prominent, and I find myself lost in the warm abyss while outwardly going through the motions.

Perhaps this haven was originally borne out of fear of becoming too enmeshed, too joyful; as though at one point the numbness was preferable to the pain that can come from being innocent. Now it is a part of who I am, and it’s hard to imagine how to shift to any other state of being.

A deeper wisdom tells me that this state is also an precious form of love, as is the seed, the egg, and the womb. Perhaps the emptiness we feel surrounding us is the incubation of love, and with patience and self-nurturing, we will emerge renewed.

Thank you, fellow seed. 🌱