When The Heart Answers
I asked my heart what she wanted this morning. Truly. I said, “Heart, what do you want?”
A word to the wise: only ask your heart if you’re ready for an answer. Because she will. It may take time, but she will. Again and again and again.
As I sat in my “dreaming chair” (a weathered Adirondack overlooking the mountains) and sipped green tea, I was the perfect picture of crunchy happiness in the early morning. I waited.
It didn’t take long. The usual suspects came first. Love. A girlfriend. An easy flow. A rockin’ business.
While they were nice answers, I grew suspicious. This was starting to sound all too familiar. I knew that voice –my chatty Gemini mind. But I patiently listened until she was through, went inside, put on my bathing suit and read this. Then I drove down to the river.
As soon as my feet touched water, that’s when my heart opened up. And man, did she speak.
There’s usually a defined plan before any big moves, though I’m often seen as the daring risk-taker. The free spirit. Little do they know how long I plan with many mental escape routes. Any change both exhilarates and terrifies me. (Which, of course, makes me laugh: this spoken from a woman who has moved nearly 20 times over 20 years–all over America.)
When my heart answered, it was completely different from the plans I’d laid out for the fall. Those plans were good. Adult plans. In all fairness, they had me excited. Not mind-blowingly excited, but excited enough.
Not. Not yet. Not enough. Or maybe, after.
My heart isn’t timid. She’s more like a queen tapping her foot, waiting to be heard. She doesn’t waste time on half-assed attention.
So what did my queen say?
Travel. Travel. Drive. Travel. No rent. Less rent. Visit ashrams/retreat centers for a couple of weeks and move on. Sing kirtan to my heart’s content. Be open to meeting strangers and feel the magic of that fleeting or lasting connection. Keep using my gifts in different venues. Drive. Visit. Twitter. Crash with friends for a day or two. Drink really good coffee. Go south. Be warm. Go where the wind takes me. Stay in VT. Come back to VT. Or not.
I’ve learned over the years that peace comes from greeting my internal landscape with as much enthusiasm as I have for the road. Place really doesn’t matter. Following the cycles of the heart — well, there’s the clincher. Good thing it’s fall. Seasons fitting like hair color to names.
Of course, then my mind had to butt in with its overwrought largesse of wisdom. “Well, that’s all fine and good but who’s going to take care of the cats when you’re gone? Avery is on his last leg, you know. What about Zoey? She’s not young anymore, either. What about all of your local clients? What about staying in place –finally? Staying put in one fucking place? This is why you don’t have a girlfriend. What about money? Money? Cats? Money? Cats? Money?”
My heart sat this one out, biding her time. She knew that I was paying attention. She knew that something had sparked.
This is where I may begin.
