on the last saturday at squam i had some time in jen lee's class to get out and connect with my heart and with nature.  i wrote a little about it here.  as i stood by the shore i felt this pull to release a wish into the ocean. yearning for an open heart, i began to write OPEN in the sand but before i was done the waves swallowed it up.  i stepped up the shore a little bit and tried again; again it swept my word away before i could even finish writing (and i wanted a picture dangit!)  so i watched the waves tumble in for a moment and decided to write it on the very edge of where the highest swell had danced. 

i scrawled OPEN quickly, thinking that surely the next wave would be washing it away.  then i stood back and began clicking my shutter. again, SURELY the NEXT wave would wash it away.  well, it never did.  my OPEN stayed dry, the sand beneath it immoveable, as wave after wave after wave wandered near it, but never took it away.  the beach and i, we remained open.

i cut myself this last tuesday. reaching into the car to get groceries out with my right hand i placed my left hand on the back head-rest and sliced my finger on a piece of glass left from when my husband's back window was smashed open. i quickly reacted to see what had happened and saw the cut before it began to bleed.  the cut was small but deep, and being located on a joint it kept reopening as i tried to bandage it with a little lavender oil.  with a good amount of pressure the bleeding stopped and i could see the places it was already beginning to heal.

the next morning i re-bandaged and went on with the day, my finger still hurt but i babied it, until i had all but forgotten.  and then when it had totally left my mind i stretched a little further than i had previously and it popped back open.  and while the pain wasn't as significant as the first time the skin was opened, it still hurt, it still bled, and it still hampered my progress.  and so the dance of healing and opening continued with my little cut.

i have a tendency to want to be as open as possible with my heart, my memories, my time.  but it's a balance because i often over-extend myself by so doing.  sometimes i put too much of myself out there and it ends up hurting, striking something deeper than expected.  i'm learning the art of the onion: peeling away layers instead of immediately slicing to the core.

i'm learning what it takes to be open and immoveable.