Matters of the heart are the most tender matters that exist in our human being

They require the most love

It’s been years since I’ve fallen in love with the entirety of a book. Normally, as I’ve been trained to do, I skim and pick up parts of some psychology, self-help or spiritual book designed at bettering some way, some how, putting it down the moment I get what I came for. I’m an active reader, highlighting and flagging and even typing reflections if I’m e-reading so I can quickly go back, grab a reference, and do what I need to do with what I’ve read, learned, reflected on. But last week I found myself drinking every word of a book recently gifted to me called Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow, by Elizabeth Lesser.

The book, originally written in 2004, follows the arc of what it’s like to re-discover the soul in this human being, in suffering, and in love; the journey and the transformative unfolding that can occur more than once in a lifetime and the relative process therein. In the past 20 months, as I’ve slowly stumbled around in my being, I had yet to find anything in any book, from any guru, from any church, from any thought leader that held me and spoke to me the way this book did. Broken Open, weaved so delicately all the beauty and the pain into the space where I’ve found myself more than once through this process, completely unrecognizable and unrecognizing, yet also deeply knowing I was in the place I needed to be. Within each chapter of Lesser’s book was a cradling for my self to sink in, a further nod to my own knowing within the warm embrace of her pages.

Lesser writes from the place of finding the light from within the dark, from descent into shadow to ascension into self and light. She shares the story of her own unfolding and Phoenix Rising. The story of the Phoenix Rising might be familiar to you, but in case it isn’t, the Phoenix was a mythical Egyptian bird. Every 500 years it lit a fire and flew down into the flames to burn away its identities, habits, everything it had become, in order to rise anew, as a Phoenix. Lesser’s own story resonates with me deeply not only because of the way in which she saw her roles as a wife and a mother become so drastically different from what she knew, but because her journey into the underworld of love was what brought her to her knees, and from there, her ascent. I’m reminded, over and over again reading this book, that any journey of love, is the most important matter of the heart.

Matters of the heart are the most tender matters that exist in our human being. The most tender, that require the most nurturing. The most love. No matter the circumstances, any matter of the heart requires love because often times they coincide with the most suffering, the most darkness, the most loss. Change, regardless of how it’s initiated, is loss. Change in one’s sense of self, who and what someone identifies with, a role he or she has played, a core belief, a principle, all of these things come into question in a matter of the heart. Differences are happening. For some people, those differences are reflected greatly externally. For some, internally, and for others, for me, they have and continue to be both.

It’s been hard to write about the matters of the heart that I’ve been in for the past 20 months because there’s much I no longer know, more that no longer applies and what I do now know, I care to carry with me deep within my soul. It’s difficult to write about something as you’re going through it. I am still deep in the underworld of love. My journey is slow and I’m both entrenched and captivated by what I’m seeing and feeling while I’m here. I have never moved this slowly in my life. I have never been so care-full with my words to myself and to others. And yet I continue to misstep and misspeak and still, all the while, living through a heart matter. I notice and respond to what feels true and resonant within my soul, I reflect, I hold.

What I have noticed that I remain to bear witness to is the expansive gap that happens between the head and the heart in a true heart matter. Matters of the heart, while tender, are often also wildly protected by heart space and the space from the head to the heart in a heart matter is of the widest expanse. Things don’t make sense, less is familiar than more, it is a new world on the inside. Lesser, is familiar, too, with this space as she lived it as well: “Like Persephone, I had to find a way to bridge the two worlds” (p. 121). Yet, try as we might, in true matters of the heart, as the name denotes, logical, consequential, orderly thinking just doesn’t do. The same perspective does not work. Einstein said, “no problem can be solved from the same consciousness that created it,” and so we have to move our gaze, move our consciousness, move our love and outpouring of it into our heart space.

Matters of the heart are the ones you may be working through for more than just a short while. I am unfolding in mine still. As you go through these matters, the ones that you may be judging yourself for, know that the kind of vulnerability that exists alongside a heart matter is no joke. It is raw, exposed, and sensitive to any pressure or attention you give it which is why, as I am learning, the attention you give it, matters greatly.

If you are in a heart matter, it’s wise to take care of your heart in this space.

While this may seem obvious in thought, I’ve found it difficult in practice and so I say it again here as a reminder to myself: Take care of your heart in this space. Taking care of your heart requires a nurturing and nourishment that comes from feeding yourself grace, self-compassion and curiosity. Self-judgement and scrutiny and criticism can feel like sugar. They’re fast-acting and fill a void, giving you something to think about that’ll distract you from the feeling you’re in, but in the end they don’t add anything to you except extra weight.

I’m reminded not to be tempted to judge or criticize myself.

Instead, be curious and be a witness to the space you’re in. I’m learning how to be a witness to the space I’m in here. Meditate, take a bath, buy new sheets for your bed. Wrap yourself in warmth, physically and emotionally. I’m a dog person that bought a kitten. I named him Kepler after the astronomer-astrology smarty who had the ability to be both mystical and scientific and now call him my comfort cat. Besides being super entertained when my kids and dogs are at their dad’s house, the physical comfort of his purr on my chest while I’m reading actually soothes my nervous system. I feel calmer.

Be diligent and discerning about the messages you open yourself up to while you’re in your heart matter.

I am also learning how to do this a new way for myself. I used to be an over-sharer, quick to want to get the story and any sense of shame I was feeling around whatever that story or circumstance was over with in the quickest way imaginable. I’d often choose to be overly transparent in honor of authenticity and wanting to have “real” relationships with people. When you’re in a heart matter you learn quickly that it’s a process only you know and it can be incredibly scary to be in the underworld alone. As you look around without finding any familiarity, it can be tempting to seek direction of any kind.

You may be surprised to find not everyone has done the work of being mindful of their projections. As you seek comfort in others, sometimes anyone, who may have a similar speckle to your story, who may have always been there for you in other ways, be wise. Not everyone will do this work, and not everyone can bear witness to it. My eagerness not to feel lonely in a space I was unfamiliar with was met with carrying more burdens, not less. In my quest for connection by means of sharing parts of my story, I began to feel less authentic to myself. I’m learning to share less, the things I hold most dear and share diligently and with incredible heart intention when I do. I have also been deeply and graciously loved by people have said little but have held me in their embrace through this passage. “In the difficult are the friendly forces, the hands that work on us,” Rainer Maria Rilke.

I have learned and am learning how to hold space for myself, not for lack of connecting to others, but for deepening my connection with my soul. Circumstances may be similar, but your soul and therefore the journey of your soul is uniquely and graciously yours. The world is big and full of labels and TikTok’s, and quick advice on Instagram. In a place of harsh criticisms from people we know and people we don’t and toxic positivity, and toxic femininity and toxic masculinity, trust yourself to be so diligent and discerning as to who you let into your heart space. This kind of diligence and discernment can only come from within myself. It can only come from within you because the work you’re doing while you’re in this space is only meant for you, it’s wildly and beautifully personal. Being wildly and beautifully personal can be so incredibly relieving because it liberates you from not having to do what anyone else has done or does. It’s just yours. This is just mine. What others learn from your work isn’t your business or your attention and on the other side of that, what others tell you about your work and what you’re doing is also not your business or your attention. Thank God.

Matters of the heart are the most tender matters that exist in our human being. Be so gentle and so kind to nurture and nourish them in the space you may be in. Welcome the warmth that being in this space alone and on gracious guard brings even, and especially when the fear sets in. Hold this space for yourself and take care that you’re opening to people who can recognize just how tender your heart may be.