Allowing ourselves to be suspended within our own process is a necessary act of incubation. To incubate is to allow something to grow, to keep it warm, to be nourished.
I was born two months premature. Jaundiced into an incubator. Into plastic and rubber gloves. I’ve been told that premature babies have inherent tendencies towards isolation, self-sufficiency, and a lack of belief in the ability to find the love and belonging they seek.
To incubate we must be suspended, between worlds. We can’t engage until we’re ready. But when it’s time to come out, leave the gloves behind. Skin feels better on skin.