When the heart finally begins to speak
“When you teach a child the word ‘bird’, the child will never see a bird again.” Increasingly she will see a concept, based on thought and memory. Until eventually we as adults are unlikely to see the feathered miracle before our eyes at all.
Eliza is almost two. Every day she comes up with new words that she uses freshly. Her ability to express herself is widening her world daily and it is a joy to play with her in this field, as she mints new words in a twinkle.
And yet over time language closes us in mental constructs that separate, which is what Krishnamurti was pointing to with the bird. We begin to live in thoughts, not in reality.
For days I have not felt moved to write this post (I had committed to writing one each month and March is almost over). When I woke this morning I lay wondering about it, about writing freed from the mind. The notion brought the softness of relief. ‘When the heart finally begins to speak, it organises the words without you having to think about their meaning. The frequency of the heart is what conveys the true meaning.’ [Richard Rudd]
I feel as though I am in a land between these ways: still confined by the mind, and yet attuned to the effortless intimate poetic honest speech of the heart.
I’ve given up on my brain.
I’ve torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.
If you’re not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words around you,