I sit sometimes in the dark and wonder why I see things the way I do. Why I can see another’s point of view so clearly. Why I can sit and peacefully accept.
The answers don’t always come to me. Sometimes the only thing I hear is a wave of emotions that speak to me in terms of my own truth. I want to be normal. I want to see the obvious. I want to fit in.
Instead I seem cursed to see the hidden, the abstract, and the difficult to understand. I sit and I see the impossible, yet for me, it is as easy to understand and accept as breathing.
I see outside of my own emotions, outside of my own pain, and I see the emotions and pain of others. I see it; I feel it; I understand it. I see, in a moment of inspiration, the truth. It may be inspiration from God. It may merely be the secret anguish of those I love whispering to me. I do not know where it comes from, I only know that it is real.
Some people are drawn to me because I can see them with such clarity. Some people are skeptical of me, and leave me alone. Most people pay me no never mind at all. But, once in a while a person comes along who loves me, and when I ‘see’ their truth they ache because of the pain I feel for them. They ache because my pain is theirs, and theirs is mine, and at some point it becomes indistinguishable.
And I do ache for them, and feel guilty, because I know that my pain for them, will only trigger even greater guilt and pain in them for causing it. An endless circle of cause and effect, circling around and around our heads until all we feel is the pain of the other and our own guilt at causing it.
And I have to ask myself, is this not love?
The thought fills my mind and my being and I get the same answer over and over again. This too is love. Do we not anguish over the pain a lover feels? Do we not at the same time want to hide our own torment from the sight of a lover so they will not worry about us? And if we do, do we not fail to give a lover the opportunity to show their love? If we hide ourselves from a lover, even if it is to spare them the agony, do we not deny them the opportunity to express their love by feeling our pain?
Like the “Gift of the Magi” can a lover desire to suffer the pain of another and at the same time hide their own pain so that a lover will not suffer needlessly?
And are any of us brave enough to say to a lover, “yes, I need you to share this pain with me?” Can any of us be that honest to the one we love? Can we speak the words that tell the truth of our pain and our need?
Can we say out loud, “I need to tell you of my pain and suffering right now even though I know you will suffer and worry for me. I need to do this even though I will feel the guilt for wanting to share it immediately after I speak it to you?”
Can we love with the guilt of needing to share that pain? Can we live with the guilt of needing the comfort of a lover despite the pain it will cause them?
Answers come to me in jumbled pieces and I hear an echo from far away telling me that there are answers, if I am brave enough to listen.
If we believe, we can see the truth.
We do need to share our pain. That in that sharing the other will “actually” feel it. When we see that suffering we will feel guilt, for now we have caused them to feel pain. We seek to spare them the pain and so we withhold the truth of our own pain. We hide it from them, or isolate ourselves, or withdraw into a stony silence. We spare them the pain and ourselves the guilt.
But we still drown in our own pain and sorrow. We do not share any longer. We only exist, separate and alone. We suffer alone, and deny a lover the chance to demonstrate their love for us.
And under it all, I think each of us longs to see the sacrifice a loved one would make for us. And at the same time, I think when we withhold our pain from a lover, we show our sacrifice for them.
There is a beauty in this endless circle of pain, suffering and guilt. There is a haunting beauty that speaks to me late at night. It calls to me, it beckons me to look and listen. Understand and give. Accept and endure. Love and feel.
It calls to me from the hearts of those I love, and I long to answer that call with all of my being. I let the desire in me rise to the surface and speak to me in loud cries. Let me feel you. Let me feel the pain. Let me worry for you. Let me suffer sweetly. Feel me. Touch my pain. Worry for me.
And yet, I know I could not let another feel mine. I know that some deep down instinct to protect loved ones overrides my desire to have someone share my pain. And so, while I call out for another to share their pain with me, I know I will spare them mine. And so it goes.
We dance in this fire of darkness. Each protecting the other from pain, each protecting ourselves from guilt and each missing the opportunity to share and love.
Dance with me my love. Dance with me until we are one. Dance with me until your pain is mine. Dance with me until my guilt is yours. Dance, dance, oh dance … until there are no secrets we cannot share, no truth we cannot face, no pain we cannot bear.
Take my hand and dance with me in the dark…
