Tonight I am sitting in the grove of my mind.

The wind is beginning to howl through the trees. These trees are my thoughts turned solid. They are memories and beliefs that have put down roots in the rich black soil.
These winds come to disturb the trees, to disturb me, whenever it is time.
The moon is full tonight, and bright red. Everything has taken on a strange crimson hue.
I am sitting cross-legged on a patch of soft earth.
I am not alone.

I have come here for a meeting.

She called me, this little girl sitting across from me with her wide eyes and her long dark hair.
She says this meeting is long overdue.
She tried to reach me before.
But I could not hear her.
Earplugs!

I am transfixed, lost in the silvery pools of her eyes. They are full of unshed tears.

Every once in a while, a drop runs down her cheek.
I see my own anguish and all of my dashed hopes in the tracks left behind.
This is a solemn meeting. And she is right. It is long overdue.
As we sit, knees touching, eyes intertwined, I begin to understand who she is.
I am suddenly aware of my heart. It is timeless, without blemish, untouched and untouchable. Within me beats the eternal, detached, perfect, divine heart of the warrior. To this warrior’s heart, nothing is personal. This heart sees through neutral eyes. It sees only one horizon and at least 1,000 ways to get there. It does not care what you do, what you say, or what obstacles litter the way. My warrior’s heart cares only for its mission and once it has one, it is pure energy in motion.
I become aware of her heart too. I immediately recognize it as is my own human heart. This human heart bears the scars of my disappointments.
I have tried to make peace with it many times.
But some parts of it I simply could not entertain.
Now here she is, sitting in front of me, cross-legged beneath the moon. She is speaking to me in my own, long forgotten child voice. This little girl me doesn’t want to talk about the past.
She just wants to know if I am sincere.

Did I come here to take her home with me or not?

I assure her that I did.
My words finally feel more like a vow than an aspiration!
I am ready.
She stands up. I do the same. She unbuttons her shirt, reaches into her chest and pulls out her heart, my heart. It is covered with the stripes of betrayal. It is has been slashed and burned more times than I can count. Yet it still holds a kind of fledgling hope.
I reach out and touch it. I take it with both hands.

With one last, expectant glance, she disintegrates before my eyes.

Suddenly those unshed tears are flowing from my own eyes.
They are tears of sadness, tears of joy, tears of relief
A sense of homecoming floods my body. I watch closely as this fleshy, soft, once broken, all too human heart transforms in my hands. As the last scar disappears, I open my warrior’s heart. With greedy enthusiasm, it swallows this ripe, rich, fleshy organ.

Whole!

The winds are really howling now and the trees are coming up at the roots.
The ground is shaking all around me.
Somehow I find my way into the eye of the storm and I steady myself.
I close my eyes and feel.

For a while, I think my heart will burst with the joy of my own fresh, untarnished desires.

My heart beats and beats and beats.
I listen as though I am holding a vigil.
My warrior heart and my human heart are talking in hushed tones like two thieves planning a heist. I can’t quite make out the words, but there is unmistakable jubilance in the tone.
The trees are on fire now. They are burning all around me.
Burnt orange and sienna!
In the midst of this fiery carnage, I look up. My mind is suddenly clear, quiet, open. The night sky is vacant. It is like a dark movie screen just waiting for a story to flash across the wide open, expectant space.
Too much seems possible and so, for moment, a moment that seems to trail on forever, I do not know how to move.
For an instant, my breath is caught in my chest. I feel suspended between two worlds.
Then, without warning, the screen of the night sky comes alive with a fresh new scene.
I am surprised when I locate the projector.
A beam of light is streaming from the center of my own chest. It leaves a crimson hue on the dusty, ashy remnants of the grove.

I breathe in a heaping bucket full of understanding.

A lifetime of confusion comes unraveled in this single deep belly breath.
Finally I know without a doubt: The warrior’s heart and the human heart can do nothing truly spectacular as long as they remain apart.

Together they are passion in motion.

I am walking through ash now, moving forward. The bright red, burgeoning light of my own brilliant heart directs my every step.
And from my lips, my own voice bursts forth in the most complete expression I have ever uttered.
With one simple word, I arrive!

Hallelujah.

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Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Used with Permission