There You Are

Some people enter our lives with a strange sense of recognition, as though something in us knew them long before we ever met.

There You Are is a spoken word reflection on soul connection, love, recognition, and release. On the people who awaken something within us, the connections that change us, and the possibility that letting someone go does not always mean losing them.

Because some people become part of the stories we carry.

And perhaps some souls simply recognise one another.

Transcript

I wonder if we meet some people. Long before we meet them. Before names and bodies. Before this particular life. Perhaps. We have already stood beside them. And that is why, When they arrive. Something in us. Does not say hello. It says. There you are. Perhaps that is what happened with you. A recognition without memory. A thread stretched across an ocean. Something ancient moving beneath something new. But perhaps recognition. Is not always destination. Perhaps some souls find this only long enough to wake something. To turn us towards the parts of ourselves. We had stopped seeing. And then leave us. To choose what comes next. Last night. I found you in the water. Or perhaps you found me. I had been running. Trying to escape. And suddenly. . . There you were. Warm turquoise water. White sand beneath my feet. Nothing but sky above us. And for the first time. I wasn't afraid. Just stay. We could stay here. But dreams know things before we do. Then your face changed. You became another. And I understood there were whole parts of your life. Waiting beyond that water. That were never mine to enter. Perhaps I was only meant to meet you there. Somewhere between one shore and another. And perhaps. . . I was caught too. Not in the same net. But in the wanting to stay. Another message. Another glimpse into your world. Another day before goodbye. There are so many nets we cannot see. Fear. Certainty. Everything we are frightened to lose. Until one day we look above us. Mistake the net for the sky. Maybe we found each other to notice. To remember. To wake something in one another. Not forever. Not possession. Just two lives touching long enough to leave something changed. So I am releasing you. And myself. Whatever waits for you beyond the water. Is yours to me. And if I am right about souls. Perhaps somewhere. Beneath another sky. In another life. You will look at me. And something in you will remember. There you are. Until then. Choose what makes you more yourself. Don't let fear become your sky. Nothing with wings. Was ever meant to live beneath a net. Until our next life.

Reviews

Thank you. That recognised and echoed within a part of me hidden deep. And then released. Acknowledged. Accepted. And anticipated. ✨️🙏🏻✨️

So deeply profound for me. This happened to me. Like meeting and old part of myself. She caused a beautiful energy to emanate up my spine. I also knew it wasn't to be this life. Thank you for your beautiful message.

There you are. Heartfelt beautiful. Felt like versions of me. In gratitude for your gift you share Niamh. 🙏🏼🩵✨

So beautiful. This talk touches deeply, soul to soul. We meet in the water, and there you are. Now we are sky-bound. My prayer today is thank you.

Oh Niamh… sometimes your words seem to find the exact place in me I’ve been trying not to touch. 💚

There You Are completely undid me.

I cried for the person I loved, for what we shared, for what I thought might still lie ahead of us, and for the painful reality of having to say goodbye when some part of my heart still doesn’t want to.

“Perhaps recognition is not always destination.”

Those words went straight into the deepest part of my grief.

Because how do you let go of someone who felt like there you are?
Someone whose arrival felt less like meeting and more like recognition.
Someone who became woven into your hopes, your everyday thoughts, and a future you quietly began to imagine.

There is such a particular kind of pain in still loving someone you can no longer reach. In knowing you cannot make them stay. In having nowhere for that love to go, except to slowly learn how to carry it differently.

I’m not sure I know how to let go yet. Perhaps, for now, I’m simply learning to stop holding on quite so tightly.

And maybe letting go isn’t about erasing the love or pretending it didn’t matter. Maybe it is allowing myself to grieve what I desperately wanted to keep, while accepting that some people can change us profoundly and still be meant to continue their journey without us.

That hurts more than I can say.

But somewhere inside the sadness, your words gave me the smallest sense that perhaps I can release what I cannot keep, without having to deny how deeply I loved it.

Thank you, Niamh. This one found me when I needed it most. 💚🙏🏽