Writing my gratitude calms me; brings me back to the present moment.
And here I notice three physical distinctions. Heart, brain and belly: metaphors for the three most powerful emotions: love, fear and desire.
I notice that while my brain falls victim to fearful thoughts that scramble round my head like a screeching macaque, and while desire is a visitor to my belly, my heart is the constant. Even though I can lose sight and sense of it under the influence of the marauding imposters, it doesn’t stop beating.
I envisage my glowing heart as the source of love that doesn’t need to be projected anywhere, onto anything or anyone. I breathe into it; feel it expand, quietly pulsing, alive, giving, bright, soft, safe. It is entirely me. There is a contented settling within myself, beautiful and serene.
When I remember this my brain quietens, and there is tremendous comfort in knowing that my heart is neither undone nor broken once desire leaves my belly.
As I write I am grateful for the nascent understanding that I am neither brain nor belly – but most definitely heart.