Dearest,
\nI know how hard it is has been. I know how you\u2019ve been stumbling in the darkness, feeling the weight of that missing spark, that essential aliveness. Unable to hear the voice of truth – so long drowned out by responsibilities and obligations and fear and trauma and grief.<\/p>\n
Or perhaps it hasn\u2019t been that hard and really, you know that life is good and you are grateful and it\u2019s not entirely heavy. But there is an undeniable feeling of disconnect. Of distance. Of separation from self and purpose. Close enough you should be able to touch it, and yet – for some reason you cannot. And the frustration of this dips and loops and causes confusion and fatigue.<\/p>\n
I see you, and I know these spaces. Intimately.<\/p>\n
I have come to refer to my essential self, my innate center, the pulse and spark and beat that is wholly me – as my wild heart. It beats steady and true. It is untamable, unbound by expectation, unconstricted by rules and regulations. This is my way of naming and knowing that piece of myself that is unchanging and true. My compass and guide. The space I return again and again.<\/p>\n
And it is true that, in the course of living this life, I have lost my wild heart – my connection to self – again and again. Perhaps this is also true of you.<\/p>\n
It may also be true that you believe that you\u2019ll never find your way back.<\/p>\n
But what if your wild heart is not truly lost or gone or missing?<\/p>\n
What if it is simply that in order to survive you closed the door, locking it tight or ramming it shut or hiding the whole thing behind a brick wall so you wouldn\u2019t be reminded of it or tempted to go looking when it was not safe or wise to enter. And over time that door became obscured by debris and covered in tangled vines and perhaps you even forgot it had ever been open.<\/p>\n
But what if making your way back to your wild is not a complicated affair – not as complicated as we would make it, at least. Sometimes it is simply a matter of finding the portal that clears the path, the one that lets the door swing wide open – intentionally and yet without force.<\/p>\n
So all that is needed then is to walk through, into the light that pulses with remembrance, and reunite with that which has been denied.<\/p>\n
It is true that most of the time your wild heart – which is to say your truest essence – is closer than you think.<\/p>\n
The words that shape the stories you once thought untellable. The words that are received and held and known and lifted by people you once called stranger. The words that stack one on the next on the next until they begin to form themselves into the story that changes the course of all things. The words that don\u2019t just unlock the door, or swing it wide open – the words that blast off the hinges and knock down the walls until your wild heart floods your entire being with light and energy and freedom.<\/p>\n
In the end, it is always the words that bring me home. The words that unwind the chains and break open the locks. The words that return me to myself, to my wild heart, to the truth of my being.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tell me, is this also true for you?<\/p>\n
If it is, grab paper and pen. Find a quiet sliver of space. Sit down and get ready to write yourself free.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dearest, I know how hard it is has been. I know how you\u2019ve been stumbling in the darkness, feeling the weight of that missing spark, that essential aliveness. Unable to hear the voice of truth – so long drowned out by responsibilities and obligations and fear and trauma and grief. … <\/p>\n