Walking in the river looking for hearts
Hearts placed by another
Wondering what their story is; the first time they placed a heart was it for the mending of their own or was it from a full heart that they began to share these found heart rocks?
The first time I saw an alter of these rocks I was overjoyed, my spirit lifted, I received it as a gift. Now when I see a new heart displayed I feel a calm smile come over me, a kind of peacefulness.
And then I start to think about my own heart, this river has been soothing for it. I trust what I find here and I open to it. I trust the impermanence of nature as well as the human expression in this river. I don’t feel any expectations, perfectionism or imposing of ideals put upon me… not even by the heart artists. The heart rocks were always there in the river, this person just brought them forth. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe they are trying to give us a message to love each other more? But I guess I see it as a message from the river itself not from the human who lifted the rock out of a pile of others.
And then I feel the heaviness of my own heart, heavy & dense like some of these larger rocks. When did this happen to my heart? Was it always this way, was I born with this heaviness and this life has just been about awakening to my latent lack of trust. Or have my experiences in life really caused that much damage? Right this moment, that seems silly, my experiences are not all that horrific, as I know the possibilities of suffering that are out there. My suffering seems so self-imposed all of a sudden. My suffering has been for love not from hate. And perhaps that in it self is why I feel so jaded about the idea of love as a motivation for anything anymore. Right now art feels like a much safer motivation for life. It seems to me we have all suffered a great deal for the pursuit of love. Ah shoot, I was going to say, “but have artists suffered for the pursuit of art?” Yes. But maybe when artists have suffered for their art it is because they are really searching for love?
I have no answers, I have no answers.
And now I laugh at myself, because it is I that created the title to my blog. I know my need to create is connected to my heart, but I can’t seem to say it is connected to love. All of a sudden I have no idea what I meant by that title so maybe this will be a journey to discover that.
I know I associate breath/breathing with life itself; breath gives life. So often I actually forget to breath, it is a practice to remember and when I do my lungs expand and there is a kind of new life in my chest cavity and around my physical heart. This seems to allow for a lightness to my emotional self. I find it is when I don’t want to feel that I stop breathing, on some level I am asking myself to stop living. When I choose to live, when I choose to breath, to in hale, to nurture my physical heart, an exhale must always follow, the desire to share, to offer, to express. Art is in my very exhale that has touched my heart. Is that which passes around the physical heart as an exhale is that love? Is love my art?
And now I cry….. love will not leave me alone!
I try so hard, so hard like the rocks, I try to harden this heart. But it is moments like now, when love catches me by surprise… these rocks look so hard but they offer so much joy to each eye that looks upon it…. upon me... upon you. So perhaps there is nothing wrong with a heart made of rock?
Hearts placed by another
Wondering what their story is; the first time they placed a heart was it for the mending of their own or was it from a full heart that they began to share these found heart rocks?
The first time I saw an alter of these rocks I was overjoyed, my spirit lifted, I received it as a gift. Now when I see a new heart displayed I feel a calm smile come over me, a kind of peacefulness.
And then I start to think about my own heart, this river has been soothing for it. I trust what I find here and I open to it. I trust the impermanence of nature as well as the human expression in this river. I don’t feel any expectations, perfectionism or imposing of ideals put upon me… not even by the heart artists. The heart rocks were always there in the river, this person just brought them forth. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe they are trying to give us a message to love each other more? But I guess I see it as a message from the river itself not from the human who lifted the rock out of a pile of others.
And then I feel the heaviness of my own heart, heavy & dense like some of these larger rocks. When did this happen to my heart? Was it always this way, was I born with this heaviness and this life has just been about awakening to my latent lack of trust. Or have my experiences in life really caused that much damage? Right this moment, that seems silly, my experiences are not all that horrific, as I know the possibilities of suffering that are out there. My suffering seems so self-imposed all of a sudden. My suffering has been for love not from hate. And perhaps that in it self is why I feel so jaded about the idea of love as a motivation for anything anymore. Right now art feels like a much safer motivation for life. It seems to me we have all suffered a great deal for the pursuit of love. Ah shoot, I was going to say, “but have artists suffered for the pursuit of art?” Yes. But maybe when artists have suffered for their art it is because they are really searching for love?
I have no answers, I have no answers.
And now I laugh at myself, because it is I that created the title to my blog. I know my need to create is connected to my heart, but I can’t seem to say it is connected to love. All of a sudden I have no idea what I meant by that title so maybe this will be a journey to discover that.
I know I associate breath/breathing with life itself; breath gives life. So often I actually forget to breath, it is a practice to remember and when I do my lungs expand and there is a kind of new life in my chest cavity and around my physical heart. This seems to allow for a lightness to my emotional self. I find it is when I don’t want to feel that I stop breathing, on some level I am asking myself to stop living. When I choose to live, when I choose to breath, to in hale, to nurture my physical heart, an exhale must always follow, the desire to share, to offer, to express. Art is in my very exhale that has touched my heart. Is that which passes around the physical heart as an exhale is that love? Is love my art?
And now I cry….. love will not leave me alone!
I try so hard, so hard like the rocks, I try to harden this heart. But it is moments like now, when love catches me by surprise… these rocks look so hard but they offer so much joy to each eye that looks upon it…. upon me... upon you. So perhaps there is nothing wrong with a heart made of rock?
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