Of My Heart

Of my heart:

a more natural compassion, one completely of my heart and not derived from thinking — it happens on its own, spontaneous, and full of grace. This is not my action, not a chosen way of my behavior. It’s what I am, what we are, each of us as an aware point of being.

of course there is forgetting, as I often feel removed from my place of life, separate, and not belonging to the world. Yet it’s always compassion that welcomes my return. There is no sense of wrong in this true home. Everything is welcomed, and more, cherished for belonging.

yes, I judge, and hold strong opinion for what I see as wrong — this isn’t a matter of the mind. It’s the natural compassion of the heart, of simply being aware and allowing life to settle in its own particular way. It’s the tenderness of being myself and knowing there are no separate others, no one outside this point of caring. There is much of life that hurts, it’s a continuous path of suffering, mending, and carrying on to the best I’m able. Through it all there the joyous occasion of sharing my heart, of tending to others even through my own distress. It’s a shared life.

it’s of my my heart, always, just the natural compassion of how life unfolds. This isn’t to cast a blind eye to when life seems to turn cruel. I am not unaware of hurt, nor infinite ways of suffering. Life holds it all. Nothing is…