The Heart

At last. The heart has awoken.With a flutter, with the iridescent buzzing of light-dancing starsprinkles, the heart like a sleeping giant has started to blossom. In my heart, a portal has opened to the heart of the world. 

Come, cedar waxwings, come eat of the berries on our trees, so that the strawberry farmer relaxes his frown. Come, our back yard beckons you over with its sunny patches and its water puddles and its outstretched limbs, bending with berries to stain your feathers red. Come, the whoosh of your flock washes over my body like a godly caress. 

How people have twisted truth into a thing of power and possessiveness, how humanity is spiraling in an insanity of separation and stickyness, greed and jealousy, hiding even in the smallest nooks disguising itself as love. It's not true! None of it is true. We hurt each other, kill each other, poison each other's hearts and souls. If one were to let one's heart open completely, how could one bear it all? 

I dare not discover, I brave not discover. 

Gently, gently do I let my heart blossom. 

Each day it murmurs to invite me to listen more closely. I follow. When it is ready, we will crack open together to a new way of Life.


The animals can show us the way. The trees can show us the way. The heart is teaching me to stop and consider the trees and the bushes, not merely as colors, shapes, qualities, faculties, capacities or species, but as equals. As self-sames. Sometimes I feel the urge to bow. I know somewhere I am part lemon-tree, same as my father is part oak-tree. My mother carried the sea inside of her...among other things, among everything we have ever been surrounded with, grew up around, been a part of, loved, were loved by, consumed, were consumed by. 

Miss or reject the past, embrace or resist the present, you are all of it. It's a beautiful thing. It means we never lost anything, and nothing was never not here, right here. You are it. If you want to see it, let it bubble up from deep inside you. If you want to feel it, let your heart unfold, and the world will sing it to you. 


Our dreams, those infamous sign posts to the soul. Raw, frightening and often dark, they come at you with everything that escaped your full attention during the day, or things too painful that you suppressed, or too much truth you'd rather ignore. They struggle to reconcile the fragments of waking life that were lived under the radar, as it were. To stand up for the part of you that has no voice, whose language you have forgotten. To compensate, to restore balance. To keep you on your feet, by dipping you into the godly realm where things get crazy a little bit, reminding you that it is all ultimately a mystery, and "don't you forget!". If you decide to pay attention, increasingly, you might intuit the haunting FACE of that which lives and feels and sees all the time, but has no voice. 


Be careful. Remember I tied myself to the mast like a crazy Ulysses? Remember I realized the only way beyond was through? (even as life threw me hundreds of breadcrumbs along the way, in hindsight, like the Chinese finger trap at the therapist's office the first time I went there kicking and screaming). Well, if you do accept the call to your own hero's journey, you will discover things. Frightening things, beautiful things. Your life will never be the same. You will never be the same. You might discover you are not at all who you thought you were, and be disturbed by it. You'll most likely clench up in a fist of resistance more than once on the way, maybe dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, a lifetime even. You will be beaten down and even eventually broken. Who knows? 

I have become a half-eaten apple, an awkward yet funny predicament. Who knows? Perhaps one is eaten away until one disappears and there remains nothing of one but the whole world. If a so-called sanity is the price to pay for a growing love and a growing peace then so be it. Who knows? Consider yourself warned! 


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