The Energy Of Our Hearts
Dear friend,
It was a Zara sleepover, and she came into the bedroom at five-thirty this morning to remind me that now was a good time for my meditation and visualisation practice. I thanked her and let her into the garden, then went back to bed and slept a little longer.
It would have been better to meditate, but I craved sleep—and the craving won. It’s painful to try and force yourself to be faultless. It’s always a disappointment anyway—especially when you expect it of others.
Who can live up to that in a meaningful way? In every area of who we are?
Self-reflection isn’t meant to be an excuse for self-attack. Just wanting to be calmer, more peaceful, more considerate, less reactive—that’s enough. The world is full of distractions and things that cause worry and concern, just as much as it’s full of beauty and peace. If we’re not messing up, maybe we’re not really learning and growing?
When we got back from our morning walk, Zara went to her bowl for a drink. A moth had landed somehow and got stuck in the surface tension of the water. Its legs poked through, and its delicate dusty brown wings rested on the surface. Zara was licking the water with her pink tongue and seemed to be trying to give the moth space to survive.
I felt like I could feel the moth—it had a friendly, cute personality. I slipped my finger beneath the water’s surface and brought it up under the insect. It sat there on my finger in the sunshine while I spoke with my friend Luke about him coming over for a visit.
I was concerned the moth wouldn’t recover, but the sunlight dried its wings and it sprang away into the air.
There’s a winged theme to the last couple of days. Something about taking flight.
I tuned into the start of a government webinar about changes to the regulations for self-assessment and business tax, which was even duller and more disconnected than I’d imagined it would be. Happily, my friend Scott arrived with his Old English Sheepdog and Poodle cross, Dippa, who burst onto the scene with frantic energy—fully aware that the presence of his food supply and bed meant he’d be staying.
Poor thing. He was desperate not to be left, and when Scott eventually walked out the door, Dippa sat for hours gazing out the front window waiting for his return. I sat with him and felt into his situation. A space opened up around us and his hurting—I could feel it. It takes time for our velcro hearts to adjust to being separated from one another.
Katie came to pick up Zara and suggested we take both dogs for a walk. That was the best thing for Dippa. After a good run around—and stealing something putrid from under a bush—he was definitely feeling more settled. He still sat for some time near the front window though, waiting.
Bless him.
Opening our hearts to one another is as much an energetic thing as it is to do with words or gestures. It’s where compassion lives. I sat with him and told him how much we love him, and now he’s sniffing around the garden, barking along with the neighbourhood dogs.
There’s a Kendrick Lamar concert at the stadium tonight. I can hear keys drifting, threaded through with police sirens. Voices in neighbouring gardens. The tap of my keys. And Dippa’s guffaws and growling commentaries on the whole scene.
It feels like the very centre of the universe.
Sitting in the energy of our hearts.
Till tomorrow,
Love,
Mikey