The Teahouse of Yearning
Yearning leans forward, always forward.
It reaches without knowing what it will find.
Yearning is not neediness.
It’s sacred hunger.
It’s the soul’s magnetic pull toward something remembered, but not yet touched.
It lives in the chest, in the throat, in the hands that ache to hold something invisible.
It is both ache and direction.
A future-self whispering from across the canyon of now.
Yearning says:
“There is more.”
“I know it, even if I’ve never seen it.”
“I would cross deserts for it.”
What Is Yearning Trying to Tell You?
- You are reaching for something that feels essential, even if undefined.
- There’s a longing in you that’s older than logic.
- This ache is not a flaw, it’s a compass.
- Yearning can fuel becoming, if you let it speak clearly.
Invite Yearning in for Tea
It may show up trembling, starry-eyed, half-lost.
It will ask you to remember what you’ve forgotten and imagine what you have never known.
Let it stay.
Ask it:
“What am I moving toward even without a map?”
“What have I been afraid to want?”
“What beauty is trying to be born through me?”
Yearning doesn’t promise arrival.
It promises movement, sacred, forward, whole.
“We are homesick most for the places we have never known.”