Love letter to the world: Bridget Pilloud
(This guest post is from Bridget Pilloud).
Whatever molecules I am now were once, recently, something else. I don’t know what. Some of our cells regenerate every 10 years. Those cells just don’t pop in from nowhere (yes, they are formed by division, I get that, but they are made out of something.)
Perhaps they are regenerated out of old cellular stuff, or maybe part of a cell was once an apple from New Zealand or a kernel of corn from Iowa.
We are always part of something that’s been here, that wasn’t us before. And parts of us are already away from us, set loose in the world.
Some parts of us are flowing into the ocean right now, or stuck to the side of a pipe somewhere, or bouncing along the air like a balloon in the fist of a four-year-old.
When I touch my arm to your arm, some of your molecules hop onto me. And some of mine hop onto you, strange tiny passengers. Perhaps this is why dogs and owners start looking alike after a while. They’ve shared so much of one another.
We are never completely ourselves. We are never completely alone.
If the nucleus of an atom was blown up to the size of a tomato seed, the electric field around it would be the size of a football field.
If our spirits follow the same physics (which I am about 80% sure they do), then our spirits are 27 miles in diameter. And my energy is currently mingling with over a million people.
It is in my interest to ensure my neighbors are at peace, for their energy is in such contact with mine. It is in my interest to find and love kindred spirits in my neighborhood, in order to make the best use of my energy.
Between you and me, millions of people overlap, like scales of a dragon, so that you and I touch too. And if you’re on the internet, our spirits reach out through words and pictures, loving one another as we go.
So, yes, we are never completely ourselves. We are never completely alone.
And yet…we never know if anyone is experiencing the world in the same way we are. We are alone in our experience. We’re stuck with our set of glasses.
The relationship I have with my lover is different than the relationship he has with me. The memories we have from the last 10 years are different. When we have sex, the most intimate connecting act, we are still two people having two different experiences.
When my children fed from my breasts, we were two different people having two different experiences.
As soon as my children experienced consciousness and sentience in my womb, they were having a separate experience from me. Even though we shared the same oxygen, the same body temperature, the same everything. (This first moment of consciousness is the separateness of personhood. Perhaps someday we can consistently measure it, and know it. This will change the nature of the abortion debate.)
My twin and I came into the world just 8 minutes apart from one another. We grew up in the same house. We have the same parents. Vastly different memories and experiences.
We are alone in our experience.
It’s true for all of us.
That is the cause of our supreme, inescapeable sense of loneliness.
So, this is my love letter to the world.
You breathe out you. I breathe out me.
You breathe in me. I breathe in you.
And all over the world nearly 7 billion humans are doing the same, and countless mammals and birds and plants.
Breathing and sharing, blurring the lines between who we are.
Even if you feel lonely, and misunderstood, and separate, you’re not. Your experience may feel that way, but you are not alone. You can’t be. Even high on a hill in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from anyone, you are sharing yourself. Even if I never meet you, the air I breathe, you’ve breathed, and vice versa. We are connected.
Our experiences may be uniquely singular, but our essences are never separate. In this space, we can love one another, for we are also loving ourselves.
We can experience the love of each other, even if I can’t completely accurately translate the love you give me, and vice versa. Even if I don’t completely understand it. It’s okay. It’s lovely to love you. To know you. It’s lovely to know you as much as I do.
Viktor Frankl, who once breathed the air I now breathe said
“Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in its spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.”
― Viktor E. Frankl
What he said, I feel for you. Whether I am still alive, or you are reading this 200 years from now, you can feel the deepest meaning of my love in your spiritual being. Just stop and take a breath. I am here with you.
Bridget Pilloud is a professional intuitive and a practicing human. She teaches, heals, guides and speaks about the human condition, spirituality and the nature of our energetic bodies. Working with clients worldwide, she’s here to help people feel hopeful, motivated, present and aware. And Loved.
Find her at http://www.intuitivebridge.com .
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