A sleeping, twitching hedgehog on the belly feels not unlike being pregnant: tiny flutterings of movement, the responding ripple of your own subtle body, the echoing shudder of your own muscles– and the deep and inexplicable caring for an impossibly small creature whose life has nothing to do with yours except that it deserves all the tenderness and care you are simultaneously — slowly, finally — learning to give yourself.
We love all others as surrogates for our Self.
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