Why don't I know my neighbours?

This poem is a poem that I began with its first two lines but didn't feel ready to finish. I came back to it after a short while and after spending some time outside in my local neighbourhood streets. I felt inspired on another level to share this with you all.

How many spirits do you feel within your being?

How many water atoms are in a rain drop?

Immeasurable in the immensity of truth,

that travels on home cooked meals drifting through dusk afternoons.

A peaceful contentedness that settles in my bones, before I start to ponder and worry -

about how sad it makes me that I don't know my neighbours.

I know their names, but nothing of their stories.

Why does everyone care about the last episode of Neighbours so much?

I sense sadness rise in my heart, in the knowledge - that if my neighbour's family member or friend passed away, no one on our street would really care enough to know.

Or perhaps we are too scared to know.

The barrier exists between us and ourselves, we cannot hold space for others, for our families, for our neighbours - if we do not care for our own hurt hearts.

The space opens for the strangers we call neighbours.

I promise I don't want to steal your cat, but I try and visit Charlie on my afternoon walks.

Why do we mistrust our neighbours?

I feel at times we mistrust ourselves.

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I reflect back on this after writing it a few days ago and I've had many conversations with others about how they feel about neighbours and why we haven't made the connection.

I truly believe it is because we at times struggle to make the connection with ourselves, with our family members and that the world on our computer and television screens seems so much easier than life in real time.

I feel that we are scared (myself included) of being vulnerable with others. Knowing that strength, in the past, has been painted as covering up what we are feeling, putting on a mask to avoid being seen and squashing our emotions down until they bottle up and manifest in ways we could never have imagined.

I believe strength lives in coming back to our breath, remembering gentleness for ourselves and those around us - especially in our darkest moments.

It is only when we are compassionate and gentle with ourselves, that we are able to hold those multitudes for those around us and as a collective.