What keeps you awake at night? What is it that you cannot stop talking about? The question was posed for the second time yesterday by a friend. The first time I was asked that very same question was a month ago.
During the first time, my head went on an overdrive to find logical explanation–attempting to see where this question would lead. Big words kept buzzing between my two ears, intelligently saying how this would point to my real passion, what I live for, what my message is.
This led to another set of words or phrases: I love talking about being, listening, spirituality, God, being oneself, surrender, flowing, etc etc.
But yesterday, yesterday was different.
Yesterday I was stunned by my own response. It was not an answer from the head. It was a response from, no, not the heart. That would have been nice. That would have felt so romantic, clear and somewhat divine.
Rather, it was–as if it were–a response from the body. What keeps me awake at night is anxiety; unresolved matters; unfinished conversation or expression; realisation that one does not know what to do or does not have the power/strength to do it–helplessness; a yearning to (re)connect and be heard. A very humane response. And raw too.
I didn’t tell my friend about this response yesterday. I was not ready to. Pride got in the way. Or maybe I needed more time to reconcile it with myself first.
I carried the question with me throughout the rest of the day. Responses came like a story unraveling. I just realised this as I was writing this post–the whole day was about the responses to the question. Experiential conversation, how interesting.
I don’t know where this post would lead to. Yet. It itself has not found its completion. Perhaps I’d better stop, for now.
ps: The last paragraph. That’s not entirely true, I kinda do know. But I am still not there yet. “yet” – hopefully.