Heartspeak

The important stuff to listen to is the stuff that’s not said

The stuff that feels too personal, too close to the bone, too heart-breakingly tender for words.

The stuff that shadows her eyes for a nanosecond, that furrows his brow fleetingly, then retreats - hidden, because she or he doesn’t want to be questioned.

The stuff that makes the jaw clench and the toes curl and the fingers fidget.

Once witnessed, it doesn’t even need to be acknowledged. Nine times out of ten it is best not to speak one’s awareness of another body’s eloquent language… the sentence fragments of drumming fingernails, rolling eyes, or mashing of the lips together as if to snuff actual words that may try to escape and may wound on their way out - either the speaker or the spoken to.

Simply witnessing, and registering that there is pain allows us to sense first hand that not only are we in a community of humans all over this planet, but that no one comes through unscathed. No one gets outa here without some sort of gaping hole in the heart.

One of my favorite Native American teaching stories came to me by way of Jane van Loon, an artist and colleague in Somatic Experiencing who lives in Santa Monica. Here’s how I recall the story:

A youth dances into the village, boastful and bragging that his heart is the most beautiful to behold. Pulling it out of his chest and holding it aloft for all to see and to marvel at its pristine, unmarred surface, he says, “See how it glows with life and vibrant vitality! Not a blemish on it!”

Indeed, the villagers ponder it and rub their chins, scrutinizing this perfect specimen.

An old man comes into the circle and quietly pulls out his heart. Gently holding it in his hands, turning slowly for all to see. He beseeches the gathered to behold the artistry and patterns of his old scratched, patched, nicked, and patched again heart. “This scar over here is where I first beheld the beauty of the world, and cried because it couldn’t last, I couldn’t hold it forever. Over here is the gash where I fell in love and lost my love. This here black hole is from when I realized that people kill people for passion and for power and for no reason at all except insanity. That swirl is from seeing the gorgeous dawn that no one else was awake to see…” And on he went, giving a tour of his profoundly sculpted and polished heart.

The people nodded knowingly, rubbing their chins and then turned to the youth, feeling quite sorry for him. They let him know he was welcome back to their village any time and to come back for sure after his heart had been worked on a little more by the master craftsman called Life.

And so it was…

If you are irritated by every rub, how ever will you be burnished? ——— Rumi

May every rub of your heart be met with gratitude that you're alive, wonder that you were able to endure so much, and awe that having your heart broken open is, indeed, how the light gets in. (Thank you Leonard Cohen)

Evidently, heart break also is part of the dues we must pay to join "Club Men" (and "Club Women!") Take this advice from me: It is NEVER OK to club a woman!