I know it doesn’t feel like you’re quite a fit. Here, or anywhere.
I know the pain of this feeling. How deeply it scratches beneath the skin.
I know how you drift through worlds neither real nor unreal, with starry eyes and a soft smile.
I know how throughout the roamings and the wanderings, you feel initially enchanted and then eventually saddened by yet another not-here, not-me, not-now. There always comes a time to move on.
Oh, how deeply I know the feeling of loneliness in the midst a crowded room.
The ache of not fitting and the heart-rending agony of never feeling at home.
But I also know this, firmly: you belong. You carry a home from another planet perhaps, deep within your chest. This home never leaves you behind, no matter how many places you’ve left. The further you run, the stronger its whispered song grows.
Your heartbeats will eventually find (or, if it hasn’t yet come into existence, create) an earthly place that makes so much sense, you know it was written just for you. It’s only a matter of time.
And until then, you will continue to find home in the ethereal. The shimmer of water over rocks. The way the sunlight falls into her eyes, just right. A quick, sideways glance over his new yet familiar shoulder, to make certain you’re still there. At least for this moment. And you are. You’re more grounded than you think.
The mark of true groundedness is stability without roots. Carrying the shell of open existence over mountains and oceans. Flying freely wherever the breeze goes.
I believe some of us become stuck.
We stop listening to the wind and the water, to the sounds of the earth. We believe we need certain things or ideas or knowledge built up like towers around us for comfort and protection. Not you. You are free of all of that. Because years ago, you discovered your castle was made of glass. And with the swiftest of kicks, everything you once thought you knew came shattering down.
Now you dance, freely, with the full realization that you know nothing. There is nothing, really, to know. There is only remembrance.
This ability to tiptoe along worlds you cannot describe, only feel — this is beautiful, and we need this. Each and every one of us does.
The ability to feel, not only for ourselves, but also for those surrounding us — what a magical gift you offer.
It may not seem as such, many and most days. It may feel like a burden you carry upon shoulders that never seem to drop. But one day, those very same shoulders will find the person or place in which they can finally let go. Carried to the home that fits every piece of its perfectly (mis)matched puzzle, your heart will fly open again.
And until that happens, know this: you belong.
You belong in the way you channel your raw emotion into art. In the way your art becomes and remains an expression of life itself. You belong in the way you take notice of little moments and big ones, sometimes forgetting everything in between, but that’s okay because you will remember what needs to be remembered, and not a moment too soon.
You drink too much coffee and sleep too little, some seasons. All to serve your work. The expression of your being.
You fall in love easily and often, with many people, places, and things. Most of all with those that seem to match your energy. But energy changes with the wind, and so you tend to get hurt easily too. Always remember that just as you fall into it, you fall out of love just as easily, and often, perhaps.
And in spite of all this falling, in and out, up and down, above and even (maybe) beyond, you continue to hold a small shimmer of each person, place, or thing you once loved or still do currently, in your heart.
Moving through the world in this way, intricate dance of a jolted dimension, you frequently feel separate, as though you aren’t a part of it all. You were dropped here by accident. You belong with no one person, in no one place.
I cannot tell you how false this idea is.
Society and some of its variant members have striven to make you feel this way. Disconnection creates a sense of power, the false blanket of security. When we’re disconnected, both from each other and from a source of truth, we don’t stand fully in our own right to exist, just as we are.
And you, darling, absolutely belong.
You belong in the crevices of the mountains you climb. You belong floating on the water’s surface at the brinks of sunset. You belong lying in grass so fresh, it leaves its mark in thirsty skin for days or weeks or months or years.
Because if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that we creatures of the Earth, we’re not meant to be alone. We belong together. And you may feel like an outsider here, yet you are the one at whom children smile, with a knowing glance. You’re part of their world. Dogs become calmer in your presence. The butterfly ceases its fluttering just long enough to land, for a pause, on your tiptoeing finger.
I watch you sit, on the edge of your seat, in joyful anticipation of all we have left to hope for. About to dance into the next fleeting moment. Who knows what it will bring? No doubt, it will contain rain droplets of art, and beauty, and pain, and life.
People like you, the magically unrooted, able to fly from place to place, person to person, moment to moment, are necessary here. To remind us all, no matter how far we go, and despite everything we encounter in between — the suffering and joy, heartache and happiness — each of us is already home.
This piece was published on Rebelle Society.