Path of Her Heart

Life as a journey of self-discovery

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  • Idealism

    A blessing or a curse?

    I have a superpower. I think. It has been difficult to formulate it, even for myself, because it is, rather, a combination of strengths, which have felt like more like a deficit throughout my life.

    All I know is that I have always felt different and never felt belonging. I changed schools, countries, continents, but have only found short fragments in time and space where I felt understood, accepted, and thriving in groups. Otherwise, I have mostly felt shy, inadequate, and out of place. Things I found fascinating, such as math, astrology, esoterics, singing, odd indie movies, other off-beat interests, others found bizarre, confusing, or boring. And, likewise, what many of my peers valued was never interesting to me. Even though I value comfort, including financial, I never understood how pursuit of material wealth could be at the very top of someone’s values hierarchy . Neither did I ever understand obsessions with fashion, celebrities, mutually agreed upon attractiveness, or pronouncements of “experts” and “authorities”. For me, popularity has always been more of a turn-off and a sign to walk the other way. Did I just not get it?

    I always had this strong expectation of the world to be inherently good, poetic, beautiful, and fair. I valued ideas, mind, and spirit over matter and physical “reality”, tending to look slightly down on the latter. And I was criticized relentlessly for this — for being an Idealist. Was I detached from reality?

    I also remember criticism for being “pathologically honest” and encouragement to “maybe lie a little from time to time” to achieve my goals. Somehow feeling right in myself has always been more important than any goal. Was I just not smart?

    I first discovered this as a superpower in my young adult son, when I realized how pure, innocent, trusting, and naive he managed to stay well into his twenties, and how vulnerable this made him in the modern world. I wondered how he managed to grow up this way, without a cunning or dishonest gene in him. And then, reluctantly, I had to admit that he, likely, got at least some of this from me. I remember feeling so proud of him for this way of being and realizing that what I celebrated in him, I always considered a weakness in myself.

    I think I am finally ready to accept my Idealism as a superpower and explore its gifts.

  • What silence says…

    “Silencio por favor” — I hear the words of a Peruvian shaman, demanding silence from participants in the circle. In a shamanic ceremony, healing songs, instruments, and chants are used to guide the inner journey. But it is the silence between songs, that is most poignant, most pregnant with meaning. And most challenging to hold, as the safety blanket of sound is removed and you are left one on one with what is. The space between mantras in yogic kirtan and the solemn quiet of a well-practiced zendo feel similarly rich and full.

    For the introvert in me, silence is comfort. And of all the sounds in the world, it speaks loudest to me. It is the sound of yoga and meditation, of morning and the stars, of listening and heart-to-heart connection, of rest and stillness. It is the sound of something that has ended, and that which has not yet begun. It is the sound of unspeakable despair and indescribable joy.

    I find that experiences that touch my heart most pale and shrink when described in words. For words, silence is a tough act to follow…