Opening the heart almost always requires a good eye. An eye toward the beauty that surrounds us in things large and small: an historical building with velvety moss on its ancient bricks, or a tiny spark of light on the sand. The things that hover on the edge of our personal world remind us that we inhabit a mysterious planet.
But the eye must also be able to see inside, able to see the large and small in that interior world, for that is where the heart lifts. The heart that pumps a regular rhythm, courses life through our body, the heart that generates those signs of vitality: pulse and blood pressure. The heart that seems to expand when we inhale, inspire, and become immersed in an engaging activity. It’s those times we have the definite sense that the heart grows larger, even though the eye would not register the change. It occurs most noticeably when we see what touches our hearts: a baby, an old friend, a lover.
I’ve wondered what it is that stirs the heart and causes this temporary expansion. Is there an invisible ray of energy that finds its way from one person to another? A ray that warms, enfolds the heart in a soft caress, then flutters like a small bird held softly in the hands? If there is such a thing, a ray that expands and enlivens the heart, wouldn’t we see it after a time so we could be careful with it?