The Heart’s Pleasure

A Meditation on Intimacy

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My voice quivers when I speak my truth.

I can’t raise my eyes. My breath quickens. My palms sweat. Time stands still and passes instantly. It’s not that I am afraid. It’s that I am vulnerable. Vulnerability requires courage. It takes a second. I can’t hear though I know what I am saying. Perhaps, “I love you.” Perhaps, “I am sorry.” Perhaps, “This is what I need.” Perhaps, “You have hurt me.” Perhaps, “I know I have hurt you.” Perhaps, “No.” Perhaps, “Yes.”

My heart is outside my body as I invite another in.

That is the only place for it as it grows with breath and life. Years of walls, excuses, speed, turns, half truths, and dodges fall away. Moments of lived and imagined pleasure take hold. There is no knot. There is only silk. There is no fist. There is only embrace. There is no block. There is only flow. There are no walls. There are windows. That is the way we invite another in. That is the sweetness of intimacy.

The fearless know the heart’s pleasure.

I stand with the fearless. Those who know pleasure deeply. Those who drink from the cup. Those who celebrate desire. Those maintain hope during crisis. Those who hold and cherish. Those who bleed and heal. Those who aspire and fail. Those who know ecstasy and reverence. Those who know center and still bend. Those who climb and hold. Those who care for living things knowing all life ends.

A promise to my heart’s pleasure.

I promise to love with my entire heart. I promise to seek with my entire self. I promise to listen with the rhythm that knows all the words. I promise to taste with a bee’s joy in a flower’s bloom. I promise to create and grow. I promise to be generous and kind. I promise to see shapes in clouds and beauty in strangers. I promise to leap and dance. I promise to purr and shine.

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