Healing The Heart

Healing The Heart

I am really tired: tired of the way life has to be dragged on. I sometimes wonder whether it was a really bad day, a really bad hour, a really bad time I was born to feel like this. Maybe the planets, the constellations were misaligned exactly at the hour I was born. I really wonder at the mysterious forces that have not worked for me, ever, the way that would have made me feel otherwise.

What would I do to change? Hhhmmmmm....!

I ponder upon various outlets from this impasse. I don't really like to live here: I would love to quit. Let all things be as they choose to be: I would really love to hit the road!!!

I calculate. How much would it take for me get a bicycle and travel inland? To places? To people? Never staying at one place, always on the move... To feel the pulse of life, to feel the beat, the rhythm, the music that I have lost far behind... If I were to die on the road, it would just be fine. I would have to anyway, somewhere. And if I lived, and if my mind were to change somehow, return back to where I sprouted out from?

Hhhmmmmm.....!! It wouldn't be simple, it wouldn't be easy. A year's journey would mean six months going one way and six months getting back, if I survived the ordeal, the quest of life, that is. And I calculate, that one year's journey would, could, cost anywhere between 10 thousand to 12 thousand... The visa fees, the return expenses, the roadblocks, the detours... the breakdowns and the unexpected... A lot of discouragements along. Yet I aim for the lower figure, of course, and still...

Are there no encouragements?
Of course there are, sure. But it depends on humanity.
It is quite strange to know there are hundreds of different people but only two types of humanity. Those who have cannot offer much and those who don't are simply unable to. It is poverty deep inside the soul, not a physical one, that determines who is who. Yes, I need to go searching in the most unlikely of places to find a good one that really matters. Here is an analogy: if I go into a bank I cannot find any money, for that I need to go to the street. I need to go to the poorest hut to find the richest of people that really matter. And that is what I intend to do. But... 

But... That still would be an unimaginable sum of money; an awful lot... in US dollars.

Haven't counted even a quarter of that sum in my life, carried far far less, ever, seen only a fraction.

How old am I? Well, I have pretty much passed the mid point of my life, I guess.

But the wound needs to be healed, the broken pieces need to be glued back together... The tears need to be stitched and sewn, fixed in some way. The heart has to be brought back to look like a heart, to feel like one. 

Stupid fellow! It's the bike that needs to be bought first, and the gear...!!

Forget it. Not possible.

What then?

Why not share the pieces if I can't find the whole?

Why not feel the heart of humanity if I can't feel my own?

Why not be human?

Why not beat the drum if I can't play the music?

As long as I can. As far as I can afford to. What I have, if I have.  The basic is there: some rice, some lentils, a few spoonfuls of tea, about a cup of sugar, about the same amount of salt, pepper, turmeric, ginger, garlic... a bed, a room, a stove, about a quarter of a cylinder full of gas, a few pots and pans, some plates... a few books, even. The PET bottle that originally contained a familiar cold-drink is empty: sorry, no cooking oil. Most often, there is not enough water except for drinking and it isn't significant how often I take a bath: basically I can go days more, even a week or two, than usual. Does it matter if I smell a little? No...! We all do, and if I can find a spray or deodorant then it can do the trick and save the uneasy feeling.  Somedays I go hungry. But if you can adjust, you can probably find almost anything...

Interested? Come then, and be a part of me, my life. Give some (don't be ashamed, it's a choice, not a compulsion), take some (feel free), we can get along, I suppose. We laugh if we can, if we can't we cry. As long as you are human, as long as I am human...  

May be you know how to stitch broken pieces, how to glue them back together, how to sew... Probably I can fix my heart in your company, if you don't mind.

My couch is available on humanitarian grounds.

What do you say?

(This photo, by George Hodan and sourced from publicdomainpictures, reflects the difficult-to-understand yet universal human symbolism signifying submission, help and forgiveness... No religious bias intended except that of humanity. http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=54433&picture=praying-hands )