This morning I woke up early feeling distraught and agitated. Recently I have been discovering that I worry about how others will receive me. The way I think, the way I act, my style, my art, invites into my home, my food, my internal struggles…anything really. I have been going back in time trying to figure out where it stems from. Down the stem to each experience leaf, only to find a new one sprouting underneath. I’m trying to find the root of where my advances of affection or my exuberant personality were refused. Even tiny experiences still seem to haunt me. I have felt so closed off to allowing myself to flow freely into others, or when I do I worry how about what they think of me. I want to feel safe enough to not care. I have this entrapped feeling that if I reach out, people will refuse me. Or think I’m annoying. Or stupid. Or kitschy. Or silly. Or hyper. Or boring…the list goes on and on. So I close myself. I can even feel my posture change and my chest constrict. But this morning I felt I needed to say this in my journal, and I wrote it over and over…
My heart is open.
I decided to go on a walk by myself while the house was still asleep. I drove to a forest. the sky was gray and sprinkles of mist touched my cheeks. But I walked on. My goal was to find specimens and paint them. I wanted to find something I’d never seen before. But it is very hard to find something new in a completely familiar ecosystem. It becomes a quest. I saw many things I love. I ate huckleberries and took pictures of licorice ferns. I imagined fairies jumping up tree mushroom steps. I circled giant tree trunks. But there was no flower or bird or spore I had never seen. I hiked down to the river, feeling a little bit discouraged. I wanted to find illumination! But I felt more like I should have slept in. Then, by my feet, I found them. A ground covering of sweet heart shaped leaves. And out of each leaf was growing more tiny hearts.
I was completely thrilled.
I took out my sketch book and drew them. Heart over heart, stem growing out of larger ones underneath. Hearts open to new hearts. Hearts growing new hearts. It was another act in the making of my psyche’s mantra, adding color and form to the words. I want to receive from others’ hearts and to give freely from my own. I want to take that sprout of faith into another’s soul.
My heart is open. My heart is open. My heart is open.