Wounds of the heart
expanding our potential to feel the richness of life and emotion
Wounds of the heart, body, mind, and soul are not places actively sought or preyed upon, yet they are vital scars of our survival and sovereignty. They are the ingredients for a luscious love story and insights into an abundant and meaningful life.
Wounds are battle burns and signposts pointing to the rich and extraordinary: a brave heart who dared to live and love and risk losing it all.
Wounds are a snapshot of what matters most to us. A portrait of personality, a reminder of who we once were and how far we have come: a moment or more marked in time.
In a culture obsessed with distraction, power, and success, one might be conditioned to relate to pain and upsets as something to entertain, weakness, failure, and a problem to solve. When closely examined, wounds of the willing offer strength, wisdom, and opportunity to heal.
Wounds do not discriminate, get carried away, or take it personally. They shy away from perfection and what others think.
They ask for our attention and mercy. When tended to, our wounds and hidden punctures of pain create the capacity for connection, to lean into discomfort, and create stability in the unknown.
At first pierce of devastation, disappointment, and loss, the heart is cracked in two and left exposed, aching, and inflamed oozing blood thick with sustenance and devotion.
Depending on our conditioning and habitual relating, we may stuff our hurt or release it onto another. When left unattended, wounds of emotion fester, become toxic and tighten in the body, ridged in mind, and numb in the heart. Like long-forgotten ex-lovers, they lie dormant, and when the perfect pieces fall into place, they trigger, influence, and poke, reclaiming their rightful ways, ready to reveal themselves.
Yet wounds only ask us to feel, reminding us that the simple yet not-so-easy way is only through the pain not around.
In those first days, weeks, and months, fresh from the flesh of the open wound, we find ourselves in unfamiliar territory, disoriented, and unsure of what to do with our pain. In those tender, raw, vulnerable moments, wounds invite us to become conscious and compassionate with ourselves. They desire a soft landing and safe place to rest, be still, held, soothed, and nurtured with no urgency to fix.
Knowing when to administer distraction, turn away from hard, overwhelming sharp edges, and lean into the easy, meaningful, welcoming edge is key to understanding. Wounds tempt us into the shadow of our soul, bid us to be with the truth of the moment and lean into the mysterious and uncomfortable. They invite us to be skillful, conscious of our pain, and adapt as needed.
When ready and rested, and with a good dose of openness, curiosity, and willingness, we examine our wounds, looking upon them through a kind, calm, and clear lens. We pour love and care towards ourselves. We water and feed our ache. We grow, heal, and strengthen our ability to meet the moment in all its true truth and be with the full range of life and human experience.
We gather our strength, will, and resilience from wounds. When we learn to hold wholehearted attention to ourselves and practice returning in a relaxed manner, holding our attention to what matters most and to what is real and right in front of us, we expand our potential to feel free and to feel more joy and peace and the richness of emotion.
That is power. That is grace. That is presence and the greatest gift we can give to ourselves.
And then one day, like the many days we have sat with ourselves, we can sit with a dear family member or friend whose heart is cracked open and bleeding tears of sweet love and despair onto our kitchen floor. We, too, can sit in tender silence saying nothing but witness with great kindness and understanding and offer that gift of compassion and wholehearted presence.
Written on a Sunday in Intuitive Writing for Women.
Writing Prompt
How do you make power from your wounds?
Or
Begin with these lines:
“gather our strength, will, and resilience from wounds.”
“the greatest gift we can give to ourselves.”
Grab a pen and paper or your favorite journal. Set your timer. Write for 15 minutes, pen never leaving the page. See what words flow.
Comment if you try. I would love to hear about your journey and experience with intuitive flow writing!
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