How is it that my heart closes?
Surreptitiously, silently, when I am not looking.
And then, unexpectedly, I realize, I can no longer feel with the same intensity, the colors in the world around me have dulled slightly, and its sounds are dampened.
When my heart closes, there is a buffer around me, and everything coming towards me slows it’s course, loses its vibrancy, its zest.
I tell myself that my vigilance is what keeps my heart open. I try, so diligently, with a million cheap tricks, I try to remain vigilant.
But my heart closes silently, surreptitiously, when I am focused on that tool that will keep me vigilant.
And how do I open it again? Not with a crow bar, not with a mantra, sometimes, not even with the soothing energy of Reiki.
My heart opens with gratitude. And grace.
And then the world is alive for me again. The morning glory’s delicate tendril, stretching for a hold on the trellis, stops me in my tracks. And the rumble of my children laughing together inside the house. The scent of earth after the rain fills me with wonder, and the flame, flickering through the nail holes punched in an old can.