When the Heart Is Buried

I seem to have reached a point where I don’t believe in much these days. It seems to me that belief itself is too compromised by the words that embody and limit it. What I experience is much more vast than words or belief can seem to grasp. So what is there to provide meaning if we are not so attached to those concepts and images that humans have created out of language and that have come to  serve as meaning. Upon careful contemplation, I find it all to be ultimately empty. As well, from that reflection and that experience that is derived from it I arrive at a sense of being utterly alone, with nothing left to live by of what once served as a grounding; however superficial and illusive it might have actually been. Learning to accept the reality of nothingness and to be with it has, however; allowed for a revelation of another kind of truth. That is the discovery of what it is that emanates from the heart as it is released from habitual ways. What that is, is our feeling for one another as human beings. Turning to the heart promotes a resistance to the dehumanization, or the devaluation of life that has become the norm.

As the self is laid bare, this humanization is illuminated and allowed to be what it is. There is nothing left to do but to trust in this as much as I can bare the intense awareness of pain and suffering;  that humankind perpetuates on one self, on each other and on other beings in the disconnection. That suffering results as a result of being stuck in the veneer of our habitual conditioning. There is as well an awareness of my own limitation and imperfection that is realized in all of this. I realize that it is not that I have achieved or become something in this contemplation  of the heart but that I have let go of the striving to be something other that blocks  awareness of it.

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