Stamp of Approval

It just happens. On its own. As if there is a magnetic field unseen by the eye that pulls us toward each other. As if I am walking with eyes closed, arms outstretched  in front of me, moving into some direction clearly not chosen by me.

The "each other." We are the creatures who just don't seem to belong. Not to a club, not to an association, not to a team, and, most curiously, not to our families. A split occurs within. We are not excited to be there, and we're not excited not to be invited. One foot there. One foot anywhere but. The tension within is great, and, at any moment, can burst and, in fact, does burst, and the damage takes its valuable time closing its torn edges.

And so we find each other, we relate to each other, and yet, we still do not belong to each other. We simply embrace the other, include the other, sympathize with the other, love the other, accept the other, be there for the other with deep understanding, honesty, and vulnerability. And while I might never belong to my clan, I seem to find refuge in the profound meeting with one akin to me, carving deeper into that which is to know at all times that I belong not to a club, or an association, or a team, or even my own blood family, but to the mother earth and the father sky, and the birds and the bees and the lakes and the trees, and to all that is. Because whatever that is knows me and I know it, and I no longer need anyone else's stamp of approval.