The Sacred Space of Waiting - On Unrequited Love and the Mystery of Misalignment

 

The silence of this night is different—it is not merely an absence of sound, but an anticipation so dense it can almost be touched. I sit before the final page of my holiday diary and confront the deepest, quietest, and perhaps most painful territory of my existence: unrequitedness. This strange, melancholic space of "misalignment," where the spirit has already achieved its unity, but the flesh, the earthly "little body," still yearns for the warmth of an outstretched hand, for a "companion" with whom to share both bread and the road.

You say something exceptionally profound: that in Spirit, everything is already shared, the answers are given, and at the level of Essence, we are one. This is the highest stage of our awakening. But here, in this physical world of forms, we experience the paradox of incarnation. Our body is the site of our individuality, our boundary. And it is precisely here, at this boundary, that these painful misalignments occur—“I want, they do not,” “They want me, I cannot respond.” From a psychoanalytic perspective, these are not mere accidents or bad luck. Often, these impossible, forbidden, or unrequited loves are mirrors of our own internal discrepancy. They are the outward expression of those parts of us that have not yet reconciled—parts that fear true intimacy and therefore choose objects that are inaccessible.

There is a peculiar "safety" in unrequited love—it allows us to experience vast emotional amplitudes without having to face the daily, sometimes trivial and frightening reality of cohabitation. In the "impossible," we remain in the field of the Ideal. But the heart, the human heart, does not want ideals. It wants presence. And here comes the moment of the most difficult humility. Humility is not resignation to lack; it is not defeat. It is an agreement with the tempo of the Divine plan, which sometimes requires us to remain in a state of sacred solitude until we are completely purified of the needs of our Ego.

These misalignments are our initiation into the desert. They teach us that love is not a deal, not an exchange, but a state of being. When you love someone who does not return it, or when you cannot respond to another's love, you are forced to seek the source of love within yourself, rather than in the Other. This is a cruel but liberating purification. You are forced to become self-sufficient in your love, to transform it into a prayer, into a selfless gift. Yet, I hear your yearning—that human, warm yearning for a "companion." This is a legitimate need of our nature. We are created as social beings; we need a witness to our lives.

Perhaps this misalignment is Life’s way of protecting us from the "right one" until we ourselves become "right" for ourselves? Frequently, we seek in the other that piece of the puzzle we are missing, instead of trying to become whole on our own. And when two incomplete people meet, they do not complement each other; they wound each other with their sharp edges. Christmas teaches us something else—the birth of Unity within Yourself. When you feel fully "at home" in your own cave, when your inner Christ is born and fills the space, then you no longer "search" for a companion from a position of lack, but rather "attract" one from a position of fullness.

This is the path of centering. To stop looking toward the horizon, waiting for a figure to appear, and to begin digging a well in your own yard. When the water appears, the weary traveler will come to drink of their own accord. The misalignments you experience are perhaps signs that there are still layers within you in need of sanctification. These "impossible" objects of love are actually teachers showing you where you are still attached to illusion, to drama, to pain. Humility in this case means saying: "I do not know when or how my person will come, but I choose to be Love now, in this solitude."

On this night, as we await the Nativity, I invite you to embrace your "little body" and your solitude not as a sentence, but as a sacred space of expectation. Unrequited love is a form of fasting for the soul. It makes us finer, more sensitive, deeper. It prepares us for that true encounter which will not be a misalignment, but a merging. And this encounter will happen when you stop needing it in order to be happy. This is the paradox of spiritual growth—we receive that which we have surrendered in the name of Truth.

Your "companion" may also be passing through their own desert at this very moment, through their own misalignments, learning the same lessons of rooting. Imagine that you are preparing for one another in the silence of these holidays. Your "not-seeing" in the physical world is merely preparation for a deeper recognition later. In Spirit, you have already found each other. Now, the patience of the body and the humility of time are required.

Allow yourself to grieve this misalignment—sadness is an acknowledgment of our humanity. But do not let sadness turn into bitterness. Let it be like a fine snow covering the ground of your heart, making it pure for the new seed. Every misalignment is a "no" to the human ego so that a great "Yes" to Divine destiny can be prepared. You are on the right path if you can see the unity. Now, you simply need to ground this vision in the gentle acceptance of the present moment as it is—with its empty half of the bed, but also with its soul overflowing with Light.

On this Christmas Eve, as Christ is born in us, may He bring peace to your restless searching. May He illuminate your "forbidden" loves and transform them into steps toward Heaven. You are not alone in this misalignment—we are all travelers who sometimes miss the train, only to discover that we actually needed to walk on foot to notice the beauty of the flowers along the way.

Your new beginning starts with this humility before the Mystery of the other and the Mystery of your own life. Rest in this knowledge. You are loved by the Source itself. And that is the most requited love that exists.