““The Quiet Gift of an Orbiter. Why Being Gently Witnessed Changes Everything.”
There’s a question I’ve been sitting with lately: Who’s orbiting you? Not monitoring. Not judging. Not “mentoring.”
Just… witnessing. With kindness. With presence.It’s a powerful thing — and surprisingly rare. In an online program I run call The Daily Shift , I invited each participant to choose an Orbiter: someone who would witness their journey without fixing or advising. Just someone who says,“I see you.” But something unexpected happened. Some couldn’t name a single person. Others hesitated and then said: “This is my orbiter… but I may look for a second one, just in case.” Or: “I honestly don’t have anyone I can trust with this job.”Both responses struck me deeply.Because they’re not about indecision or laziness. They’re about protection. About the ache of having been let down. About what it costs to trust again.If you’re a quiet leader someone who listens deeply, carries responsibility with care, and feels the unspoken energy in a space you might know this feeling well.The moment you fall out of sync, even slightly, you don’t push harder.You pull away.And the longer you’re quiet, the heavier it gets to return.
Why We Struggle to Be Witnessed
For many of us the emotionally attuned, the artists, the empaths, the deep listeners we’ve been trained to be the observer, not the observed.We know how to sense the room, hold the silence, carry the unspoken weight.But to be the one on the other side of that gaze?To say:“Would you walk beside me for a while, quietly?”That’s something else entirely.It means admitting we want to be seen.That we’re tired of doing it alone.That we, too, are in motion.
The Psychology of a “Maybe”
If someone says “I may look for a second orbiter,” it’s not just logistical it’s emotional. It’s hedging against disappointment.
It’s saying:“I want to trust this person, but what if they can’t hold it?” And when someone says, “I don’t have anyone I trust for this,” what they’re really saying might be: “I’ve been the strong one for too long. I don’t know how to ask anymore.”This is not failure.This is the residue of a world that rarely rewards slowness, presence, or vulnerability. Especially in people who carry those traits by nature.
So What an Orbiter really ?
An Orbiter is a symbolic figure.They don’t have to say anything special.They don’t have to have answers.They’re just… there.They hold a pocket of space for your becoming.They listen when something shifts in your body or voice.They see your effort, your friction, your flare.And sometimes, that’s all it takes to keep going.
What if I cant find one ?
Then let’s pause.Because that itself is important.Let’s name what it means to not be witnessed to go day after day without someone truly noticing your growth.We can’t solve that in one email or one exercise.But we can start to rewire the story.You are allowed to be seen.You are allowed to take up relational space.And if you’ve been without that for too long, this may be your season of re-learning how to invite it in.
A Practice for Now
Ask yourself:
“If someone saw me right now fully, without judgment what would I hope they’d notice?”Then ask:
“How can I become that for someone else, too?”
Because sometimes, the easiest way to re-enter connectionis to give what we’ve been longing to receive.Let this be your reminder:You’re not too much.You’re not too quiet.You’re not asking for the wrong thing.You just might be ready for the right witness.
Randolph
