What follows is an excerpt from some writing I did about 2 years ago. It rings true to me still.
A Facet of The Sacred Dive
~as told by The Heart~
The heart is forever split open
moving minutely and completely
with the Now,
as a slug's underside
intimately over everything
without pulling away.
I look out of the window over the top of the electric radiator at the first snow of November. From the warm stillness of the room I see the bare twiggy tops of poplars swaying in morning gusts of wind. My eye is drawn out through their form to the little field just beyond. It is low and scrubby brown, the tight branches of honeysuckle pocketed with fat white snow.
What does my heart see out there, out there when I settle down and let it draw up through my chest and gaze out through my eyes?
It sees stillness and glory. It sees trees flung wide in exhautant joy, the cast of the fling staggering in its intoxicating slowness. Two deer walk across the dirt road. The radiator buzzes a low hum that fades in and out. My body becomes still with utter wellbeing. An ancient sense of Christmas and peace wash over me, and oh I don’t even know how to express it.
There is a feeling there, a knowing there, but it is before words.
The heart speaks a language that is older than words. When you hear it, you know it, and you know exactly what it is. There is a gap between the heart and words that is made of something I don’t understand. The best I can say is that these two things, the heart’s language and words, do not touch. They are not the same. And yet language can be beautiful, and with care points closely to the heart’s message.
Birds flick though snow and
Low roars of wind
Tumble down the hillside through stiff brown goldenrod
Moving as a river does, an abandoned ravish of underwater rocks.