Vachon Imagined

There is something deeply human about wanting someone to make room for us.

To notice us.

To see us.

We spend so much of our lives reaching toward people, hoping that if we can just say the right thing, become the right thing, accomplish enough, or prove enough, someone will finally turn toward us and truly be present.

But often, we are reaching for people who are not available to meet us.

Not because they are bad.

Not because they do not love us.

But because they too are living inside their own consciousness, their own conditioning, their own nervous systems.

People who are meant to see us sometimes don’t.

Not always because they are incapable of love.

Not always because they do not care.

But because they too are trying to navigate being human.

They are trying to survive. Trying to provide. Trying to maintain a lifestyle. Trying to preserve a marriage, gain power, attention, love.

Trying to prove their worth.

It is the great hustle.

And the world often rewards this state of being—the constant striving toward material and possessive gain.

People enter consciousness to experience consciousness itself. They become expressions of it, movements within it, life experiencing itself through countless forms.

But somewhere along the way, we forget.

We begin to believe we are the ones creating life rather than participating within it. We believe we are separate from the very consciousness moving through us.

And this is where accountability begins.

Because we are creating.

We are creating when we are absent. We are creating when we are distracted. We are creating when we allow fear, pride, and thought to overshadow presence.

But seeing this does not require judgment.

It requires awareness.

As we grow, the mind often tries to repair what it once experienced by reaching for what was unavailable.

It searches for presence from those who cannot offer it. It reaches for recognition from those who cannot see it. It continues trying to solve the original absence by returning to the same place where absence exists.

This is not weakness.

It is the wiring created through experience.

But we cannot fix this through our own strength alone. We cannot force someone to awaken. We cannot make someone create space for us.

What we can do is acknowledge.

Without judgment.

We can recognize when someone is not showing up. And we can recognize when we ourselves are not showing up.

We can choose where we give our energy.

Because people reveal what matters to them not only through what they say, but through where they place their attention.

Those who value you will make room for you. And when they are with you, they will truly be with you.

Their presence will not be divided.

Connection does not always require hours. It can happen in a moment—a smile, a brief exchange of eyes, a feeling of being truly seen.

Those moments are where human beings meet.

My son reminds me of this.

Sometimes we are playing together, and I reach for my phone.

“Mom,” he says, “be here please.”

Those words bring me back.

Because it is an expression I taught him, and now he gives it back to me.

He reminds me that presence is not something we achieve once and keep forever. It is something we return to again and again.

In that moment, I am not absent because I do not love him.

I am simply somewhere else.

Caught in another thought. Another demand. Another movement of consciousness.

And his gentle reminder brings me home.

Here.

This is what we are all searching for: love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and self-control.

Not someone to complete us.

Not someone to finally prove our worth.

But the willingness within ourselves to arrive.

Fully.

Present.