I was told I entered this existence with a comfort for self containment. Any interruption in my inner balance was met by a swift retreat in to my room, where I stayed until I felt I had regained the peace that was presumably placed within my being as the root from which all moments in my life should stem. It seemed that, even as a child, I had the very human need to maintain my own balance amongst the weights of the world tugging at every corner of us all. Not until much later in life was I able to quantify and articulate the work I had been doing in my inner world. I made my very own place within which to find the comfort the outside world may not always be so easily swayed to offer. I had built a way to make my inner self my comfort zone and look to share these techniques in the event that it might help someone to create their own inner comfort.
“I never had to tell you anything more than once”, my mom stated recounting my childhood. She went on to share that I was mostly quiet and painfully shy around strangers (to me strangers included everyone outside my immediate family). I spent the bulk of my free time alone, in solitude. Only to periodically break my streak of silence with the occasional sensory experience, such as sticking my hands into the palm planter to feel the “earth”. “I would turn the corner to find you bailing soil out of the planter in awe because it was so rare a sight”. Mama was always kind about the peculiarities she witnessed. Never questioning what may be happening on the inside of my world knowing that is what I would seek out when I went there.
Entering into the stillness of my bedroom was like walking on to a blank canvas, and the medium consisted of the feelings I didn’t know how to process as a child. I would sit and contemplate. I would move and writhe. I would rearrange everything I could move in my bedroom. Today I’ve come to know this process as “moving energy”. Somehow children know what needs to be done to get things moving toward evolution of the self. I remember feelings of buildup that resembled a large orb of water swelling and swelling waiting rigidly for a pin to burst it. It would question me about the world around me and beckoned for a decision about how I would move forward. I didn’t know where to put these feelings, but I knew I did not just want to walk away from it or ignore it. I had to face it, sometimes for extended periods, in order to rightfully integrate them.
I discovered the void, and realized this place was ripe with possibility. It was, at that time, a desolate sheet of night with stars as far as the mind’s eye could see. It carried with it a duality of emptiness and infinite possibility, holding hands ever so tenderly. I sat in the vast expanse with a feeling between my fingers and thought of what place it might have. I was driven by a need to “put it somewhere”. Somewhere I can revisit it when the feeling arises again in the future and see the subtle nuances grow through experience and process.
I tried many different ways to visualize, and for the most part noticed they fell short as far as containing these giant mystical prism like emotions.
I hit me all at once. I knew where I could make a home for these foreign bodies.