A Moment of Connection

Connection is deeply felt


Some experiences don’t lend themselves well to a standard blog article. Some experiences are too deep, too intensely felt to neatly break down into a five-point map of how to solve a problem. Today, I want to speak to those experiences: the deeply personal, deeply internal experiences of coming to know, love, and embrace parts of yourself.


This article will not tell you how to find your parts, nor will it go into a lengthy explanation of how I work with clients to embrace their parts using Internal Family Systems (IFS). What it will do is paint you a picture of a moment of connection. Because that’s what we all ultimately long for, isn’t it? Connection. Compassion. Courage. Healing. Peace.


If you will indulge my poetical parts, I will invite you to share a moment of connection. Let your creative parts create a picture in your mind, and notice what stirs in your inner world. Hear it and open yourself to it. Welcome it, and begin your own journey toward connection.


Silence and stillness


Cold. Chill, midnight blue wrapped in heavy silence. Weight of the very air, pressing on her shoulders. See her there, sitting silently with knees drawn to her chest. Arms wrapped around herself, pressing her heart closer to her legs. Containing the unspoken, frozen fury that fills her like a glacier.


Eyes wide, staring. Unfocused. Staring into the dark. Unable to speak under the weight of grief and silence. Muted, frozen, unable to move from where she sits perched on the very edge of darkness. See her there, alone in her silence.


Walk up to her, soundless as footsteps on powder snow. Feel the air absorb any whispers, leaving you encased in a crystal moment of silence. Still, utter, and absolute silence.


Feel the whisper of movement in her shoulders as your silence joins hers. Feel the tiniest tremble of a response as you sit beside her. Looking into the darkness together, sharing the quiet weight of the chill midnight blue. Legs hanging over the edge of the abyss, feel her notice your stillness that does not come from fear. Feel the hesitation, the hope, and the unheard sigh as she slowly, gently leans over to rest her head on your shoulder. Stay with her, and know that there is nothing to do here.


Fire and fury


See the other, trapped behind soundproof glass, flaming red and orange and yellow. See her nearby, screaming into the dark with fists balled up at her sides. See her mouth move even though the sound cannot penetrate the midnight blue silence. See her rail against the injustice with every scrap of air she can push through her lungs. See her light up the night like a phoenix. See her, alone in her fury.


Feel her loneliness, her belief that she is alone in her impotent rage. Feel her grief that she cannot touch the world from her isolated soundproof box. Feel her broken heart as she waits alone for someone to see her. Hear her. Join her.


Go to her, feet still soundless as ever in the still cobalt night. Walk along the cliff edge, passing through the container as if it wasn’t there. Hear her screaming, unable to stop, every cell of her body coursing with fiery rage as she weeps that she cannot save the world.

She can’t hear your silence in here. She can only hear the echoes of her own voice, beating back against the chorus that tries to silence her. She cannot find you in silence.


Join her. Open your throat and scream into the abyss with her. Feel the shock of realization as she sees you beside her for the first time. Feel the sagging relief of suddenly knowing she is not alone, and she sobs on your shoulder. Feel her heat as you embrace her and let her know you are with her. Be with her, and know that there is nothing to do here.


A place for both


See the first one, sitting silently at the edge of the cliff, needing to remain mute under the weight of the world. See the other, fiercely screaming her resistance into the night. Feel them both, each with a hand in yours. Feel the stillness of the air tremble as you welcome both to you.


Cobalt and crimson, silence and screaming. Feel them both, and know that they are each a part of you. Feel them both, and know that there is nothing to do here.


To be with them is enough.


To hear their different voices – in silence or in screaming – is enough.


To embrace them both, and to honor them both – is enough.


Your welcome and acceptance gives voice to parts of you that may have been locked in silence. What do they have to say, once they know you are here with them? Each part of you has a voice in its own way, and each voice has something of value to tell you. Be with them, and know that the being with can be enough.

If one of those parts is asking, “could I have an experience like this?” the answer is absolutely. Your experience of connecting with different parts of yourself will be unique to you, and may not look exactly like what I wrote here. But the capacity to join with your isolated, lonely, and pained parts and bring them peace is within you. I would love to support you in this wonderful healing work. Reach out today and take your first steps toward reconnecting with the parts of you that need you.