Where Are Your Feet?

There is a question I ponder, mostly without saying it aloud. It comes to me in the middle of a shared moment, not interruptive, but in the form of a gentle observation. It appears when I am sitting across from someone, when conversation is flowing, when laughter finds its way naturally into the space between us. It is disarmingly simple, and yet it reveals so much, discloses what I’d like to know. Where are your feet? Not in the literal sense, although I do notice that too, but in the way that relates to presence. Where are you, truly, in this moment we are sharing? Are you here with me, or have you drifted somewhere else, into thought, into analysis, into that subtle distance people create when they are no longer fully inside what is unfolding between them?

I ask this because I sense when someone is here, here with me, mind, body and soul, and I perceive it just as clearly when they are not. Presence has a distinctly beautiful quality. It displays warmth, it creates an emotional steadiness flowing between two people who are truly engaged with each other. When someone is grounded in the moment, everything between us deepens and expands almost magically. Conversations ebb and flow, not because we carefully construct and curate, but because we live them, right here, right now. No rush to fill a thoughtful silence, no need to impress the other, no sense of performing or conforming. Simply two people meeting, mind, body, and soul aligning with each other, resulting in the meaningful and genuine connection I cherish.

Occasionally, there is a rift, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. But to me, it is a stark change, a difference in tone, gestures and expressions. The rhythm of our conversation tightens. There is a hesitation where there was none before. Naturally unfolding caresses become strained. We have stepped out of the moment while our bodies remain. The minute someone begins to observe rather than participate, when they withdraw from being within and fully immersed in the experience, to standing on the sideline, trying to understand, measure, define and analyse something that can only exist in the now.

A question, lightly or jokingly spoken, often with a smile or attempt at self-deprecating humour ‘Are you really enjoying yourself?’ or ‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ On the surface, this might seem harmless, even playful, but these statements, as those questions are not really questions but statements, reveal something else underneath. Doubt. Need for reassurance. Desire to confirm that what is happening and unfolding between us is real, is unique and not simply part of a broader pattern, that this moment holds significance for both of us.

I understand where that insecurity comes from. Life teaches people to question what feels good, especially when it arrives with ease. There is a tendency to look for the catch, to test sincerity, to protect oneself from the possibility of being mistaken. But in doing so, something valuable between the two of us is lost. The moment itself begins to unravel, maybe not drastically, maybe not dramatically, but in a way that changes its exclusive quality. Instead of being engrossed in what is happening, we are suddenly discussing it. Instead of feeling, we are evaluating. Instead of trusting, we are asking for proof. Instead of enjoying, we are overthinking.

That is not where I live.

When I choose to spend time with you, I am not preoccupied, I am not calculating and people pleasing, I am not offering something rehearsed. I choose my patrons carefully, and when I choose, I arrive fully. My attention is not divided. My laughter is not a performance. My interest is not something I distribute lightly or indiscriminately. It is there because I am there, with you, in that exact moment. That is the only place I want to operate from.

When this particular sentiment enters our very own space, it does not bring us closer, the opposite in fact. It creates a small distance where there was closeness. It asks me to step out of our precious moment to explain, to justify, to reassure something that has to be felt and appreciated in the moment. Such sentiment is misplaced because it belongs to a different kind of interaction, a different kind of person, a different kind of experience - one built on consolation rather than presence in enjoyment.

I don’t offer reassurance to insecurities. I offer something more sophisticated, something more rewarding. But you have to allow it. I offer meeting you, in this very moment, exactly where you are in life right now. I am confident in knowing, that if I am here with you, I have chosen to be here with you. That choice carries weight. It speaks clearly without explanation. It is the understanding that authenticity and meaningful connection are paramount to me. 

This is where genuine relationships live. Not in requested comforting and coddling, not in repeated confirmations and empty compliments, but in the willingness to remain inside the magic while it is unfolding between the two of us. When you are wholeheartedly here with me, your mind, your body, your soul are fully receptive to the warmth emanating between us, the subtle swing into a more visceral space, the way our energy matches and our bodies move together. Responding instinctively, using our innate abilities to wholly connect and meet each other. We listen because we are curious, not because we are preparing our next line. We choose to submerge ourselves in the moment, not because it is expected but because we prioritise being together. We deliver mutual pleasure because we care, not because we perform.

Intimacy. Not only in the physical sense, but also mentally and with our heart and soul. No need to over-explain, no need to dissect every nuance, word or touch. This natural flow of quality time and diving deep is not something that can be manufactured or forced, it can only be entered into via the present moment, coupled with an open mind and the willingness to let the experience unfold organically. This is the space I desire to create. But it only works if you join me right here, right now. 

I will always meet you with integrity. That is not something never to be adjusted or negotiated. It is part of how I live, how I connect, how I move through my world. I do not wish to dilute it, and I do not need to explain it. It simply exists and you can feel it, like you can taste me and touch me.

When you find yourself with me, I invite you to ask yourself, ‘Where are my feet?’

Come, meet me right here, right now, and stay close.