The Three Angels
What happens when the strangers inside you finally speak
There is a strange thing that happens when you have lived disconnected from yourself for years.
The mind runs. The heart hides. The body carries. They share the same house but they do not speak. They have forgotten each other’s names.
I know this because I lived it.
The Strangers
For years, my mind was the only one allowed to lead. It planned. It worried. It solved problems before they arrived. It was exhausted, but it did not know how to stop.
My heart sat in the corner, quiet. It had learned long ago that no one was listening. When it tried to speak, the mind would override it. Not now. We have things to do.
And my body? It just carried both of them. It tensed. It ached. It held everything. No one ever asked how it was doing.
This is how many of us live. Scattered inside our own skin.
The Naming
One evening, sitting in stillness, I did something I had never done before.
I gave them names.
The mind became the mind angel. The heart became the heart angel. The body became the body angel.
And then I let them talk.
It felt strange at first. Even foolish. Who speaks to themselves this way?
But something shifted.
The mind angel, which had always raced ahead, began to slow. You do not have to solve everything alone.
The heart angel, silent for so long, began to whisper. Small things. I am tired. I am hopeful. I am still here.
The body angel softened. The shoulders dropped. The jaw unclenched. Thank you for finally asking.
They were learning each other again.
The Truce
I am not at war anymore. Not completely. But I am calling a truce.
Krishna tells us that the self is the friend of the self, and the self is the enemy of the self. For years I was my own enemy. Now I am learning to be my own friend.
That is what this is. Inviting the parts of me that have been strangers to sit together. To let them speak without judgment.
It is not easy. But it is not difficult either. It is simply new.
The Emptiness That Is Not Empty
And then came something I did not expect.
After the angels spoke, there was silence. Not the silence of absence. The silence of presence.
No thoughts racing. No plans forming. No memories pulling me backward or fears pushing me forward.
Just space.
The Zen masters call this the ground of being. The Stoics call it the stillness at the center. I do not know what to call it yet. I only know it felt unfamiliar.
I had spent my whole life filling this space. With noise. With worry. With other people. Now there was nothing to fill it with.
Just me. Just breath. Just now.
I did not run. I stayed.
And in staying, I discovered something. The emptiness was not punishment. It was rest. The kind of rest I had been seeking outside myself all along.
From the journey of turning scars into stars.
Reflection for you, reader:
When did your mind, heart, and body last speak to each other?
What would they say if you gave them names and let them talk?
Have you ever touched the emptiness that is not empty? What did you do with that space?
A song about being lost and wanting to be held. About the tender reunion with the parts of ourselves we have neglected.