The Unseen Relationships

I have are more demanding and unpredictable.

I've been dwelling on my relationships with the unseen lately. Most 33-year-olds probably think of relationships with things they can see – primarily humans, or increasingly, their pets. But if you asked me what I associate with the word recently, my list looks different: my deceased family members, a sense of spirit, the nagging ache in my left shoulder that's returned, my inner child, and my heart.

In some ways, these unseen relationships are more demanding and unpredictable than the ones I have in the tangible world. However, nurturing these unseen relationships can be equally, and sometimes even more, important. In fact, I'm writing about this because I'm emerging from a period where I doubted their necessity. Like most things, I only truly recognized their importance after experiencing the negative consequences of neglect.

During this time, my mind was fixated on tangible results, where cause and effect were clear-cut. I believe our interactions with the unseen can yield tangible results, but the gratification may be delayed and certainly won't follow a formula. It’s been my experience that these relationships require more effort, courage, and creativity than those in the physical world. This is because they unilaterally demand that I slow down to be in their company.

In general, I'm not a cemetery person. My parents are not there, but occasionally I find myself called there for the symbolism of it all. So sometimes being creative in these relationships looks like doing an hour of work in a cemetery using a headstone as a backrest and leaving a goldfish for a curious creature to find.

I was reminded of this as I spent almost an hour in child's pose on Monday afternoon, tears streaming down my face. My heart ached to share news with my parents aloud, but every time I tried to speak, the words caught in my throat. Talking to them isn't new for me, but in this instance, it took real courage. It meant leaning directly into the pain as I opened this dialogue. It meant once again admitting their physical presence was no longer here. It meant slowing down and giving myself the grace to be present with it all.

I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover that, unlike some humans, it is easy to remedy ruptures in my relationships with the unseen. The repairs have been evident in the repeating numbers on the clock, the affirming cards spilling out of my decks, the increased ease I feel in my body, and the clarity I feel in my mind. So, for now, my companions and I are in calm waters, reconnected and working together.

Perhaps you too have unseen relationships that deserve attention. If you do, I hope you consider slowing down and tending to them. It's worth it.