Marrying The Heart

I remember the night well, or at least I imagine I do.

I’d been in bed for days, only able to rise to deal with the most basic of my needs. All my senses as sensitive as a butterfly’s wings when it first emerges from its chrysalis. I didn’t know what was happening to me; I didn’t know how long it would last.

My great busy and anxious life had come to a halt and this new life was, well, new.

I lay in bed with relief that it was night, as the stimulation of day was gone and lying in bed at night didn’t seem so unusual a thing, and watched with great fascination as shafts of light crossed my ceiling from the cars headlights passing on the street below.  This was exactly the amount of entertainment that my system could appreciate in that moment.

Somewhere amidst this show of light, my body relaxed and my mind no longer interrogating myself or trying to figure out what was the matter, or what to do about anything, I became aware of a presence filling the room, it was both within me and apart from me at the same time.  I knew what it was without having to give it a name, but if I were to name it I would call it my heart—although it was more than my heart. And although she didn’t speak in words I could here her clearly. She was offering herself to me, but also in her clarity was asking for me to offer myself to her. She could only give of herself if I fully accepted her.

A sadness deep and wide within arose as I felt how she had always been right here with me, but I had been holding myself apart.

And I knew in that moment that accepting her meant relinquishing or risking everything else that I’d been holding onto. I’d been dancing with her for years, but it had been an awkward dance, full of stepping on her feet and missing the beat, as I also tried to follow all my other ideas about what was important and what I needed to do to secure my life and shore up my existence.

But then in this moment my heart opened and I accepted her invitation.

This almost seemingly imperceptible—and yet more real than anything else—presence, was now the most important thing.  I was no longer flirting or dating, or even engaged. I was now married.

It continues today, but it was as if for many years I’d been holding a compass whose magnetic pull came from many directions, the heart was one, but there were many others competing for navigational pull—ideas about success, fears about survival, insecurity about my value. None of these completely disappeared, but this presence became my true north, its pull the strongest and truest.

What is your true north?

This post is part of the series Planting the Seeds of Listening and includes the post What is Most Important?

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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Marlene May 13, 2010 at 1:24 pm

Wow, Jasmine, this is a beautiful post. I like how you name “it” your heart. I know what you are talking about; I’m “married” too
and as you say, still dancing awkwardly at times, but i hear the music better and better and get more graceful with each enlightening misstep. Thanks for sharing your experience, and ultimately, realization of what is real.

I have been studying a spiritual philosophy that is very helpful keeping me pointed to my True North and will be happy to share if you are interested…..


Jasmine May 14, 2010 at 12:04 pm

Please share. I’d love to hear what is supporting you in connecting with your heart.


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