bubble

reunited (and it feels so good)

You are waiting for yourself.

As I sat in my chair in the silence of my morning meditation, that phrase bubbled up from some deep unknown place within me. Usually when thoughts pop into my head during meditation they are one of two things - a regularly occurring thought that I probably have several times an hour every day of the year or thoughts about what is on my to-do list for the day. When these types of distractions roll into my headspace, I do my best to gently let them pass by. I’d say I have a 30% success rate.

But sometimes other things bubble up. I’m not sure ‘thoughts’ is the right term because they’re as much in my body as in my brain. ‘Knowings’ might be more accurate - things already inside me but that are packed underneath the weight of busy-ness and daily bullshit.

Maybe these non-thought thoughts don’t come from me at all. Maybe they’re whisperings or messages from beyond. Beyond what? Who’s to say. It could be god or the muses or ancestors or mother nature or the universe. They could come from somewhere else entirely. I suppose it isn’t all that important honestly.

You are waiting for yourself.

Once that mediation bubble rose to the surface, it stayed there for the rest of my session. I couldn’t shake it. Quiet reverberations accompanied it. Something about this was true. Something about this was worth paying attention to.

As the timer buzzed and I came out of my session I couldn’t stop thinking about this funny little phrase. The obscure gem that it was. At first I thought ‘that shit is really really deep!’ This must be a profoundly true truth. The truthiest of all truths. As the day went along, though, I started to feel like maybe it’s not that deep. It’s more like waist-high depth. Later that night as I reflected on my day of humaning, I concluded that the wisdom bubble really wasn’t a gem but a turd. It started to feel like a cliche, something to be decoratively sown onto a throw pillow next to the ‘Live Laugh Love’ wall hanging.

You are waiting for yourself.

By the next day I split the difference and landed somewhere in the middle. This wisdom bubble wasn’t exactly a Rumi poem but it also wasn’t a quippy tweet. It gave me some feels. It gave me some thoughts. What does it mean to wait for yourself? Are you waiting to meet yourself somehow?

Is there a true Patrick patiently standing by, at the ready for me to set down the bullshit and embrace him? Like lovers? Is there a pure version of me that exists without the fear, hangups, destructive patterns, self-sabotage, defenses, and numbing? What does that guy look like? More importantly how does that guy live? How does he move and breathe in the world?

I can only imagine that kind of meeting would be a symphony of joy. All the right things would align. It would be childlike in all the best ways. Maybe ‘meeting’ isn’t even the right word. It’s a reunification really. A returning to something once known. Have you ever seen a kid reunite with something beloved? Whether it’s grandma or a toy or a friend or a song. There’s an explosion of laughter and tenderness. There are whole waves of every feeling. It’s true beauty.

Maybe that’s what’s waiting for me. Maybe that’s what’s waiting for all of us. A sweet reunion of self. Such a meeting would mean we’ve somehow unshackled ourselves from things that bind us. We would have removed all the self-designed silly clutter standing between us and ourselves. The gak and the gunk would be gone. We’d be free from ego and fear, disconnecting and loneliness. It would simply be us holding ourselves in nothing but warm tenderness, rich compassion, brilliant clarity.

And joy.

Don’t forget about the joy.