Feel. Everything.

Photo: Unsplash | Frida Aguilar Estrada
We feel with our hearts,
Not in our hearts.

Feel. Feel everything.

At times, even abandoned.

The heart is a feeling instrument.

When your heart is broken, it is your love that has forever changed. It is your faith that has left you, it is the ending of a belonging and the beginning of aloneness. It is the beginning of grief.

It is just another beginning.

It is the new invitation into a deeper level of adulthood, where what you walked with, in the light of, in the shadow of, in this world, has left you. That thing or person might still go on, but it now no longer belongs to you and you no longer belong to it.

These partings and endings have to happen so we can allow for the breaking and the letting go and the resting. Grief is the first part of letting go. Sometimes when the wound has been great, we discover we have to let go many times, in many unexpected ways, even years later, a wound we thought had healed over, is lanced by a fresh encounter with an old grief.

And we really do need to feel it all. We came here to feel, all of it.

And we feel it with our hearts. We know, in our deepest grief, that it is not our hearts that are broken, they are perfectly whole and working as well as ever, we are just unused to feeling so much pain at once through an instrument that we had come to believe was only for love.

The pain of grief is love. It is the holding on we do when letting go of everything is not as simple as dropping a shoe or tipping the last sour sips of wine out on the earth. It is the drinking of the sour bitter dregs, and forcing oneself to hold it in the mouth and savour it, because it is the only thing left that will remind us of the grapes and of summer.

But the wine must sour, so the cup can be emptied. Our grief must be felt so we can really know what love means. So we can choose how we want to fill our cup next round, or sit here nursing the bitter dregs forever.

We came here to feel. God is not a bearded Zeus sitting on high watching beyond the clouds, as we love and lose and suffer. We are god, inching our way to awakening, one cup of the wine of life at time. We wake up and the divine awakens in us in when we stop lamenting, when we stop looking away, when we realise we are not abandoned, that the grief is also love.

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