By: Gabriela Yareliz
“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Rumi
It has been such a difficult year, this 2016. It has been a mess. To give credit where credit is due, there have been a fair share of miracles.
This year has mostly been characterized, however, by the twist in your stomach, heart shattered feeling that has become all too familiar. My face has felt numb more times than I can count. You know– that feeling where you try to blink back tears and your cheeks feel like they weigh 40lbs. each. If I had a dollar for every time I heard my voice breaking…
The stress has been heavy. I have to continually pray and decide whether I will drop off my burdens with God or continue lugging them. Unfortunately, I make these decisions once I feel exhausted from lifting such heavy weights.
There have been weird uncertainties and more awkward conversations than I can count. Disappointment has been a defining factor. Hope continues to spring up, in spite of harsh realities. I read a quote today that said that fearlessness is when faith outweighs fears…
Is this a weird vent session? It may certainly sound like it. Hilariously, I thought I was past that point after month 4 of 2016.
My cheeks feel heavy as I write this.
As I was waiting for the train this evening, all I could think about was how broken my little heart feels. That terrible feeling you get when you feel like you are losing a bunch of things, and you get the rug pulled out from under you. You feel like the kid who falls, knees first, on concrete and on top of that scrapes his hands.
It’s not so much everything changing or lost. Whatever. More of that will come and go. It’s not even about the wonderful things worth celebrating. There are always amazing things to celebrate and be grateful for. This post is really just about the pain felt, despite the gratitude and despite the sense of loss that may not be permanent. There is a weird in-between state where you are just standing there, wondering.
Sometimes, you are just a human whose heart aches. It aches for tragedy; it aches because of change; it just aches without a reason at all. And that’s just how it is. You feel because you are human.
Rumi states that our heart has to keep breaking so that it can be open. I was thinking about that as I waited for the train. I kept thinking of all the times I felt that ache or heard the shatter. Sometimes the shatter rattles you to the bone.
Open means open, though. No blockage. Things can enter AND exit. Like an open hand. Things can land in it and things can fall.
It makes sense. I guess I can’t help but wonder whether the heart is like the hand. Is there a time when you can fully grasp and hold on tight, promising not to let go? Or is the heart always pumping out what has flowed in?