Feeling this new, growing energy in my heart, means I feel more compelled to live from my heart. I trust that if I sit with this energy in time I will feel a place of completion, joy, reverence. A state of being.
But how do I write from this. Last night I was watching a television show with that standard scene, which we've all pretty much seen a milliion times now. A piano teacher tells a student that their playing is too perfect, too intellectual. They need to feel the pain and play from that.
I've tried to do that in my writing, but it never seems to work. My heart feels numb and self-conscious when I do that. But I suppose naming the numbness and the self-consciousness is a start. My own heart is so muddy and chaotic it feels like, and my environment continues to reflect that even if I know I've made a lot of progress.
Like it or not, there is squalor in my heart. Light squalor, but squalor nonetheless.
In the television show, the character worries that he has no pain to draw from. He lives with loving, politically correct, lesbian parents. Meanwhile, he's forgotten that his father is an embarrassing, lonely alcoholic, who had has distanced himself from.
I sit with my heart and feel years of numbness. And I worry that I will never unfreeze all these blocks.
But that numbness is there because of pain. A lot of pain. I will never have to worry about not having pain. Pain is good. Suffering is bad. The resistance to pain, the mechanisms by which we dull the pain.
I don't want to feel that numbness.
A few years back, I found places in the energy centre in my head that were full of depression and anxiety. Now I'm feeling them in my heart. Or not feeling them, but I know I'm working my way there.
