Visualize, create, or repurpose a container that's a suitable resting place for your heart. You can leave it empty until you need it or keep a representational heart in the container at all times as a visual reminder that hearts are only as secure and vibrant as their resting space.
I've been working with a tiny willow basket a friend made me years and years ago - ever since I had a really bad day in which it was clear I was not holding the right energy to post on my main blog. Since then the basket has been holding a moss agate heart. I've been keeping it on my chakra-related stonework altar in the corner of my studio coffee table workspace. It's incorrect to say this prompt is inspired by what sent me so far from center. It was inspired in a way that feels more accurate to say - it was woven - by a few people who read what I wrote and had a purely heart-based response. And in my own heart and intuitive sense of energetic wonderland, I felt that weaving happening inside of me as well as externally.
It was an incredible thing. There were other things connected to a few local people and people who emailed or otherwise contacted me privately. But that energetically woven basket created by simple words on a screen really knocked me out. So far, it's my biggest single takeaway from Heart Month.
At some point in the fairly recent past I came as close to having my heart hit the ground as I've come in - ever, quite frankly. It's a different kind of thing - losing Heart throughout your consciousness. It's nothing, for instance, like clinical depression- or any lesser kind of 'giving up' that I've experienced or observed. Losing heart is beyond terrible. It's, more or less, The End.
Sensing my heart dwindle with heaviness and shadows, I caught myself thinking of all the times I've rallied other women having a very hard time finding enough heart to hold all that hearts must. A lot of times it's been intensely personal, as was/is my situation. Even more frequently it's more collective. For instance, the day after the '06 elections, I called a group of a my female friends, one at a time, who are (a) established leaders of some kind (b) hypersensitive plant geeks and (c) close enough to the NYC area that they already had a rough idea of what was coming at us on a scale (i'm sorry but it has to be said since it's so freakin' true ...) the likes of which nobody had seen before.
During those calls, I shared a quote that's nearly always given Cheyenne attribution. I only shared the first sentence: a nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. I talked to seven friends that day and I left five quotes on voice mails along with the assertion that we were needed more than ever. I know this because I wrote about it in a journal entry I do not remember making.
Later, when the voice mail women began to unbend and recuperate enough to respond, I couldn't remember making any of the calls, either. The car accident that dinged my brain had happened. It took one particularly fiesty NYC-for-lifer INSISTING that i had in fact left her a voice mail before I began to remember doing so as if it all happened in shadows and underwater.
When I recently felt my heart cruising about six inches above the ground, I mentioned it on my main blog because I knew I'd need to step away in order to heal somehow. A couple of people were moved to leave a comment or they sent me an email. I conceived of this prompt at that time. My sense of the spontaneous heart-centered energy's pure love was enormously sustaining emotionally and also at a inner-screen visual level. I saw a nest structure very similar to the tiny basket featured in this post. But it was big and sturdy enough to hold me. Inside there were feathers and flowers and sumptuous sprigs of many protective and healing herbs.
I rested there, as need be, throughout my time of regeneration.
it can be done ...