Beyond Missing: Rewriting the Spell of Separation

I’m in flight — body carried across time zones,

heart tethered to both ends of the sky.

Leaving my beloved in Bali.

Flying home to my children in Canada.

I feel the ache, the stretch — that tender in-between where you can’t fully be anywhere because your soul is with them all.

We call this feeling missing.

“I miss you,” we say, like a reflex.

It sounds sweet, even sacred — proof that we care.

But lately I’ve been asking: What are we really saying?

Because every time I speak those words — I miss you —

I notice something quietly heartbreaking:

I am reinforcing the lack, not the love.

I am creating the distance, not just describing it.

It’s subtle, this spell.

A language so familiar, we forget it’s shaping our reality.

We think we are naming a feeling.

But language doesn’t just name. It creates.

“I miss you” is a spell of sorrow,

an incantation of absence,

a quiet agreement that love can only be real if it’s near.

And yet… that’s not what I believe.

Because I know — in my bones —

that love is not confined to time zones or proximity.

That energy, attention, and devotion

are not bound by geography.

When I left Bali, I didn’t leave my love behind.

He travels with me — in my blood, in my breath, in the rhythms of my remembering.

When I land and see my children, I won’t be “back” —

because I never left. Not really.

So I am choosing to rewrite the spell.

Instead of I miss you,

I speak: I feel you.

I’m with you.

I carry you.

We are connected, always.

This doesn’t erase the ache —

it transforms it.

It reminds me that I am not torn — I am vast.

That the heart is a spacious place where many loves can live at once.

We don’t have to keep living at the effect of language we never chose.

We don’t have to keep reinforcing loneliness, longing, or lack

when what we really mean is:

you matter to me. I love you. I feel your presence, even when you’re not beside me.

This is the revolution —

to become conscious of the words we speak.

To remember that our language is not neutral — it is creative.

It is the clay of our experience.

And we are always shaping.

From this day forward, I create a life where I am connected.

Where I speak from unity, not lack.

Where I choose love that transcends time and place.

No more missing.

Just loving.

Just feeling.

Just remembering the deeper truth:

We are never far. We are infinite. We are always here.