Everything Is Waiting For You (David Whyte)
Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times, have felt the grand array; the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice. You must note the way the soap dish enables you, or the window latch grants you freedom. Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity. The stairs are your mentor of things to come, the doors have always been there to frighten you and invite you, and the tiny speaker in the phone is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots have left their arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last. All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
Sometimes feeling lonely is an incurable state. Unable to explain it, particularly to those you are closest to (who might think, for example, your loneliness is in deliberate defiance of your relationship to them) you carry on feeling as if you are shrinking in an ever expanding world. Something distracts you and you’re okay, momentarily, because momentarily you live in the world again. You are not separate. You are something in relation to other things, you are caught.
I wish occasionally, when I feel like this, for a kind of bodily-less state I can only imagine. I would like to float for hours half alseep. I would like to feel without, erased, white.
This is a poem that may or may not be about all of that. I wrote it some time ago.
on the other side
on the other side
you are flung ink always orbiting
the mysterious aisle between dark water and water
split with light
where your body rusts through the evening
caught in the iron weeds that grow from the oil of river-beds
The other day, after finding out someone I was once very close to will again be in close physical proximity to … here, I began to think of the way we are anchored to one another and how we are more responsible for each other than we’d like to believe.
The decision to become close to another person is one that should not be taken lightly, because for better or worse, real closeness can never be erased. Even if such a person is someone you no longer like or want to be around, if they are an anchor then knowing they will once again be close feels, in some ways, right.
We carry each other around with us always. No one can be taken away. No one can be subtracted from who you are now. Every day, sometimes a hundred times a day, we visit the people who we have encountered and we imagine them in new situations, or in old ones. They never know how much they are thought of, or longed for, missed or cared for, but it would be nice to believe that in some way the force of all these thoughts could have some small effect on them.
We can never escape the synchronicity that occurs between those who we have been perfectly intimate with. It is a great secret that perfect intimacy is unaffected by time and space.
The day before I left America, a friend left a card on my doorstep that had this inside: ‘We each become each other. The goal is to become everything.’ I never stop finding out how true that is.