what makes me sad is sharing half-truths.
no matter what we say it seems we can’t wrap the whole truth of life into 1,000 words, let alone a half sentence.
no matter what we say we can’t express the mystery.
sometimes that makes me very happy. inexpressibly happy, even! to not be able to express the mystery of life’s constant inexpressibility. it’s a gift, really, a hidden gift, but a gift nonetheless.
sometimes we weep in frustration attempting to share what can’t be shared.
every time i type the word “i” it’s misunderstood, at least by myself.
i want to type: this is true, and this is true, and this is also true, and everything not typed is also true.
yet the mind dictates we limit our truths in this world brimming with opposites.
i want to be everything in the world–for everyone and myself. to hold up a cornucopia filled with every known harvest in the Universe and sing, “truth, truth, truth…”
limits make me sad. judgments make me sad. jail bars of perception make me cry endless rivers of tears.
writing this post may make me sad because i haven’t said everything in the universe on this most heart-ful of days, because we’ve ignored the suffering of smeared ashes and starving babies and the next moment’s tragedy.
what holds our sadness always, valentine?
a bigger heart than we can imagine holds us in its red beating embrace, always. a bigger heart than we can dream holds us as we weep over sadnesses that others attempt to croon away whispering it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter…
when we simply want to welcome our sadness into the heart of life and say, yes, you too, you belong here, no one shall be turned away in grief, in regrets, in what sometimes seems like endless sorrow.
you may stay sadness, and we’ll feed you cupcakes with heart-shaped candies and baby you with sweet steaming lattes and listen to every last glass-sharp inner pain and cry with you, yes, we’ll cry with you, we’ll never stop crying until you’re truly seen, you’re understood once again, you’re steady enough to stand on two feet and walk back into the jeweled world to learn again…
we’re loved so fully by this valentine heart that it won’t reject a single part of who we really are. it knows we’re everything said and unsaid. it knows we’re what can never be spoken–
–except in the endless song of its inclusive love–singing us back together in each new moment of possibility, allowing us to exist in the totality of our unfathomable mystery.