Experience has shown me that being a comforter is never as easy as one may think.
In fact, it’s damn right hard at times to not only comfort the ones you clearly love, but also learning how to be truly honest in the ability to comfort oneself. It often involves sensitive “soft” tools that are often too heavy to carry, or in some cases and too light to even notice that they are there. It’s a balancing act only gained by the experience of years promised, or the fact that once we go beyond ourselves it becomes increasingly painful to let things simply exist when met for the second time. For once in my life I’m extremely apologetic in my ability to juggle both the avenue of catering to emotions, and the delicate walk of catering to my own emotions.
It’s about not losing Truth North or finding enough weight in the things that really matter. It’s also about being vulnerable and allowing the lights to shine in between the noise, the illusions, and the small things that simply exist for color. Being a comforter involves active listening beyond the ears. You have to listen like a musician would listen to a Chopin piece, or a Bach piece where even the layering of notes above the notes may not clue you in to the finite details. So, listen when I tell you that being a comforter never starts with the outside influences, but deep down inside the internal mechanisms that draw you closer to yourself.