Spring-Inspired Musings on Intimacy

Intimacy Begins Within

We often imagine intimacy as something that happens between two people. But true intimacy begins long before that. We learn intimacy through the courageous act of connecting to our own true self. Why do we need courage for a deep self-dive?

For many of us, the inner voice is not kind. It criticizes. It compares. It condemns. Imagine a roaring river between where we are and where we want to be. That river is made of shame, guilt, self-loathing. On one bank stands our “lacking” self—imperfect, afraid, struggling. On the other bank stands our ideal—strong, confident, worthy. And we believe we must be hard on ourselves to get to the ideal. We believe we must muster all of our stubbornness, will, discipline in order to build the bridge and cross.

Only there is no river to cross. The ideal on the other bank is a mirage, a shield our psyche uses to hide from our own vulnerabilities we refuse to see. Understanding this requires inner intimacy. Intimacy that never begins with fixing or striving. Fixing and striving are the tools our psyche uses for hiding. The tools to dry out the imaginary river and begin to know ourselves, to develop true intimacy are mindfulness and self-compassion.

Compassionate Mindfulness: The Gateway to Intimacy

Intimacy grows in the soil of mindfulness.

Mindfulness is the simple practice of noticing what is happening—inside and outside—without immediately judging it or trying to change it. It is learning to sit with our thoughts and feelings as they arise.

What does disappointment feel like in the body?

Where does fear live?

What thoughts turn on when we feel rejected?

How does shame move through us?

When we practice mindfulness, we begin to befriend our thoughts and emotions. We stop treating them as enemies to defeat or flaws to hide. Instead, we meet them with curiosity. This is the beginning of intimacy with self.

Self-compassion is the necessary component of this process. Self-compassion says:

I see your fear.

I see your mistakes.

I see your longing.

And you are still worthy, and valuable, and lovable.

This kind awareness does not excuse, does not condone harmful behavior. Nor does it mean we abandon growth. On the contrary, it creates the stable ground from which true growth becomes possible.

Thus, intimacy that we cultivate by the practice of self-compassionate mindfulness becomes the skill of recognizing and accepting the most vulnerable parts of ourselves.

The part that feels not good enough.

The part that fears abandonment.

The part that carries old shame.

The part that still longs to be seen.

Intimacy does not begin with fixing. It begins with knowing.

Knowing how it feels in the body when we are triggered.

Knowing which stories our mind tells.

Knowing how fear disguises itself as anger, righteousness, avoidance.

Knowing how shame hides beneath perfectionism.

Knowing and acceptance not as resignation, but as simple, kind awareness holding our experience. From this quiet awareness strength arises. When we are no longer running from ourselves, we have the energy available for change and growth. We can respond rather than react. We can choose wisely rather than compulsively act out of habit. This is the practice of intimacy, the skill of true, unconditional love.

The practice that softens our defensiveness, reduces the grip of self-loathing, and helps us stay present and weather the discomfort instead of collapsing or attacking.

The Bridge to Others

Over time, something powerful happens: when we don’t look at the world from behind our fortress, we begin to truly see other people. We recognize the vulnerability in others because we have learned to recognize it in ourselves. We become more attuned and present. We listen more deeply. We develop true intimacy in our relationships, fostering them to flourish.

The “tainted glory of our humanity” appears in full splendor with its strange and beautiful mix of strength and fragility, wisdom and confusion, love and fear that lives in every person.

Instead of demanding perfection, we can embrace humanity.

Instead of reacting to another’s anger, we may sense the fear beneath it.

Instead of hiding our own tenderness, we may dare to reveal it.

This is the skill of intimacy: the capacity to see and be seen without armor.