purpose

Day 715

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She’s my friend.  She sees hearts everywhere – in candle flames, on flower petals, on unevenly toasted bread, on random clouds and other unlikely places. Basically everywhere. She actively seeks them out as though they are quietly waiting to be discovered, playing hide and seek with her. They fill her with child-like wonder and glee. She goes on to excitedly share her hearts with the rest of the world. It’s infectious and now I see them too.

The heart is the ‘chakra’ that balances the body and spirit, with 3 chakras below and 3 above it. It is also known as ‘anahata’ in sanskrit which means ‘unhurt, unstruck and unbeaten’. It is green in colour.

This morning’s yoga session was about opening up the Heart chakra. It made me aware of the sensations in and around the chest. At times it felt like a flutter and others like an ache. It brought up the tears easily and induced a sense of expansion where I felt like all the kids in the world were mine and all I wanted was for everyone to be happy and free. My spirit seemed to have taken wings, soaring high while my mind and body stayed centred right where I was.

I am free to just be.
I am free to be happy.
I am. I am. I am.

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Day 343

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It’s a very steep learning curve that I am on.

In fact it’s not a curve, it’s a very wavy line with highly unpredictable peaks, troughs, amplitudes and wave-lengths.
But there is a lot of learning.

About the mind and it’s mysterious workings and aberrations.
About time, its games and distortions.
About resilience – not knowing how weak or strong I am.
About feelings, which are so much more important than I ever imagined.
About thoughts that can sometimes shred me down to smitherines and then gather me up into something more solid than solid.
About intuition and the pernicious effects of ignoring it.
About the heart, which in an ideal world would be allowed to rule, every time.
About purpose, which comes from the heart.
About pain, which can make a home in one’s heart.

It will soon be one year ….

“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide;
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go – so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, ”There is no memory of him here.”
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.”

– Edna St. Vincent Millay