The Body's Quiet Whispers

When I was a child, I used to lie in bed at night and feel a strange uneasiness. A kind of homesickness, but for a home I had not yet found.

In the darkness of my room, my body felt alien - as if my limbs and chest belonged to someone else.

There was an ache that could not be soothed, though I was safe in my own bed.

Many years later, I learned there are parts of us that get left behind. Like little fragments of soul that break off when we experience something too painful to carry.

They lodge in the body, waiting to be discovered - ill-fitting shards that make it difficult to feel at peace in our skin.

The mind holds memories, but the body holds secrets.

It is a well of images, scents and sensations that surface when we least expect them, carrying messages we don't want to read. So we disconnect, retreating into routine and reason. But the body keeps whispering.

To overcome the sorrows that live inside us, we must become archaeologists of the self.

Gently sifting through layers of muscle and bone to unearth what was lost, until one day we can lift it to the light again - broken but familiar, telling without words the story of why life did not feel like home.

The body speaks a language all its own, through intuition and metaphor, creativity and dreams. Listening is an act of will that requires patience, sensitivity.

But if we can quiet our minds and bend close, hands open to receive each fragment we unearth, the body will place the pieces back into our hands. A slow return to wholeness. An unfamiliar peace.

Photo credit: Robert Guss @Unsplash

We each have within us a cache of memories too intimate to share. But when the body offers them up in its quiet way, receive each one as a gift meant to guide you home.

The ache you carry was never punishment - only your heart's way of preserving what it could not bear to lose, keeping light and hope and love alive until you were ready to remember: you have always belonged.

Whisper thanks to the fragments you unearth, then lay them to rest. They leave behind small openings that let life in - and through them, you will feel the world open once again, as if awakening after the longest dream.

The body calls you home through the secret poetry of senses, written when words weren't enough and reason looked away. Listen, and be gathered into peace.

Yours,

Albert

Photo credit: Victor Chaidez @Unsplash