Sensei

Beloved Sensei,

“None of this matters”, I said, gesturing around the house, “however, I will remember you for as long as I live, and that is what matters. That is why you matter.”

I want you to remember these words, I want you to believe these words, and most of all I want you to feel these words for yourself. I want you to look at you with my eyes, to feel you with my heart.

I treasure how you taught me to be a pupil and let me learn at my pace.

I treasure how our connection grew into something so special.

I treasure the myriads of conversations in which we “fixed the world”, as my aunt would say.

I treasure the ease with which we talk about deep and difficult things.

I treasure dancing, riding, swimming, eating cake, cooking fish and just sitting with you.

I treasure your earnest interest in me, in who I am.

I treasure you.

When I look at you, or think of you, there is softness, tenderness. You just recently suggested laughing that I must be wanting to shake some sense into you from time to time. And because there was humour involved, I didn’t disagree. I am so sorry for that – because no, I never, ever, felt that way. I never felt the impulse to violently jolt you. Frustration of that kind would mean that I my love for you is bound to you fulfilling something or living up to something. It is not.

So maybe, I would want to hug some sense into you. Yes, that, I would like. I want to surround you with soft, warm, fluffy hugs that allow for letting go of all the breaths you are holding.

You are precious, just the way you are.

I love the little girl that has so much love in her heart with no place to put it.

I love the dancer with her soul on her sleeve even if she just nods her head to the beat.

I love the white witch who would heal the world, if she could.

I love the sage who’s willing to share what she has learnt.

I love the scholar who is looking for new ways.

I love the philosopher seeking awareness.

I love you.

I know you, though, and I can hear your head ticking off the above as achievement list, being flattered, but at the same time looking for a way to downplay it. “White Witch, what a lovely compliment, but I am nowhere as good as Mother Theresa.” Am I close?

So here the raw, uncomfortable bit.

I love the anxious, depressed, brutalised, scarred and hurting human being.

There is nothing you need to “fix” in order to be good enough, worthy or deserving of all the love in the world. You already are deserving, always have been.

Healing, not fixing, I wish for you. So that you can walk past a mirror and see all the gorgeousness I see. So you can look at your reflection, smile and think “Look at you! How lovely are you!” with true tenderness and love in your heart.

With all the love I have,

S