the loving witness
the constant companion
So there’s this guy. He’s me but he’s also not me. He’s always with me, always observing but never doing, never acting. He’s a witness to whatever is going on with me. He observes: “Oh, he’s enjoying this meal. Oh, he’s brushing his teeth. Oh he’s writing about me.” While the person I am does things and thinks things and feels things all of the time every day, the witness does none of that. The witness only witnesses.
Since I read about the witness in The Untethered Soul, I’ve felt greater access to ease and self-love and gentle inquiry whenever I am delaying action on something I care about. “He’s laying in bed because he’s cold.” The witness’s impartial perception allows me to be seen exactly as I am without judgment. This acceptance helps me move myself towards a more desired state from a place of self-love rather than self-coercion, in this case going from laying in bed to writing. The witness knows that I fall back into old patterns, take extreme action to counter extreme action, and neglect to allow space between stimulus and response. The witness also knows that I show up and put in effort every day, find ways to make the right thing to do the easy thing to do, and take time to better understand myself. Although I regularly forget about the witness, he is with me through everything I experience. No one else in my life knows me so intimately.
I have worldly concerns; the witness does not. I have desires and motivations and dreams; the witness does not. I choose what to do and who to be in every moment; the witness does not. I know that the witness loves me because the witness is me, my constant companion in this lifetime, my everpresent friend.