I am someone who likes to sweat. Often and profusely. Let me explain.
I have a close relationship with my body. I love feeling my heart pound, breath quicken, pulse race, legs, chest, lungs burn. I love to feel sweat dripping from my face, off my chin, into my eyes, down to my ankles. I love to feel my body work. I like to GO. DO. I’m an animal. I’m a seeker. I’m an overachiever. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.
It’s just that I love to push myself to the brink, to exhaustion, in everything – mind, body and spirit. It is amazing how far we can push ourselves. Our bodies are a marvel. Our minds are magnificent. Our spirits are unbreakable.
And our hearts…
Our hearts are enormous. Colossal. Their capacity is endless. They are the receptacles of all things living. We must push our hearts as we do our minds and bodies and spirits.
Our hearts are not fragile; not really. Not if we are brave enough to keep them open. Not if we are unafraid. Not if we have faith that we will be okay - and we will always be okay. It is the heart's capacity to rise again and again after falling. We must keep it open or we risk missing the beauty and wonderment and absolute bliss of being alive.
The absolute bliss of being alive. Wide awake. It is why we are here. It what we were made to do. It is the multi-dimensional, multi-sensory, boundless adventure of being human. It is our pounding hearts. Our pounding minds. Our pounding spirits. It is Love. It is Sweat. It is Tears. It is all of it.
Do not miss it. Do not miss the burn of being alive. Do not miss having your insides bubble and flutter and glow with the vigor of the universe, every querulous fiber of your being lit up and set on fire. Push yourself. Feel the burn and do not mistake. It is just God breathing on the embers of your soul.
Tuesday, December 11
Friday, December 7
My Heart is Raining Butterflies (revisited)
I find lately that I am so filled with gratitude I feel I might burst right open. I feel my heart might just leap right out of my chest, sprout wings, fly up into the sky and start raining butterflies and fairy dust and daisies. I am beyond blessed. I am so well beyond blessed it is oozing out of me in bucketfuls, in boatloads; all I can do is dole it out here in verbal parcels so as not to completely drown in the stuff.
I don’t want to preach or boast or annoy, but I kind of feel like spinning around on the top of a hilltop belting “the hills are alive with the sound of music.” Okay, I won’t. But my god, have you looked around lately? The hills are alive with the sound of music! And so is the grass, and the trees, and the clouds, and even the perfectly dimpled orange sitting on my desk weighing sweetly against the post-it dispenser. It is all good. It is all God. It is all exactly as it should be.
It is all exactly as it should be.
I don’t believe in God, I believe in everything. I believe in love. I believe in love until the end of time. I believe in happiness. I believe in the bright side and silver linings and it will all work out. I believe in kindness and compassion. I believe in chocolate and wine and french fries. I believe in pure indulgence. I believe in good company and good books and laughing to tears. I believe there is no mountain too high. I believe there is always up. I believe time heals. I believe dreams come true. I believe we can do anything. I believe we are all stronger than we could possibly imagine.
I believe we cannot possibly wrap our heads around it all. There is more than this; there is so much more than all of this, and even for that I am grateful. I can’t fear what I don’t know; I will immerse myself in it; I will wrap myself up in it and make friends with it and cozy up to it and lean into it and have faith that I will not fall.
There is no beyond. There is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present. It does matter. Every little tiny thing matters and must be found and picked up and redeemed. Every little tiny thing is an ingredient in this great big masterpiece, a note in the grand symphony, and if you listen closely you’ll hear it; if you listen very closely, and with much gratitude you will hear how the grass is growing beneath your feet and how my heart is raining butterflies from the sky and how the hills are indeed, alive with the sound of music.
I don’t want to preach or boast or annoy, but I kind of feel like spinning around on the top of a hilltop belting “the hills are alive with the sound of music.” Okay, I won’t. But my god, have you looked around lately? The hills are alive with the sound of music! And so is the grass, and the trees, and the clouds, and even the perfectly dimpled orange sitting on my desk weighing sweetly against the post-it dispenser. It is all good. It is all God. It is all exactly as it should be.
It is all exactly as it should be.
I don’t believe in God, I believe in everything. I believe in love. I believe in love until the end of time. I believe in happiness. I believe in the bright side and silver linings and it will all work out. I believe in kindness and compassion. I believe in chocolate and wine and french fries. I believe in pure indulgence. I believe in good company and good books and laughing to tears. I believe there is no mountain too high. I believe there is always up. I believe time heals. I believe dreams come true. I believe we can do anything. I believe we are all stronger than we could possibly imagine.
I believe we cannot possibly wrap our heads around it all. There is more than this; there is so much more than all of this, and even for that I am grateful. I can’t fear what I don’t know; I will immerse myself in it; I will wrap myself up in it and make friends with it and cozy up to it and lean into it and have faith that I will not fall.
There is no beyond. There is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present. It does matter. Every little tiny thing matters and must be found and picked up and redeemed. Every little tiny thing is an ingredient in this great big masterpiece, a note in the grand symphony, and if you listen closely you’ll hear it; if you listen very closely, and with much gratitude you will hear how the grass is growing beneath your feet and how my heart is raining butterflies from the sky and how the hills are indeed, alive with the sound of music.
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