The moving heart

On trying even when it feels pointless.

My heart started moving a long time ago. It left the safety of my rib cage and began its journey out of my body and into the world.

I could feel its travel as soon as a second beat began in my body. My emotions are on the surface always now.

When my heart went to live outside my body I no longer felt protected. I cried easily and often. My heart hurt from being battered by all the sadness in the world.

I felt bruised all the time.

We are conditioned to believe it’s wrong to show how we truly feel. The anger, the hurt, the raw ugly feelings....In a sanitised filtered world, nobody wants to see ugly.

We tell our children it’s OK to cry, but do we know it is OK to cry?

If we recognise hurt will it stop us hurting others? Maybe if we acknowledge the pain we feel, give it a place, give it a name, and stop feeling like we must apologise for it – we will protect our hearts that now live outside of us.

If we have parents who love us, we are taught that we matter. That we can make a difference in the world. From this we might have space to feel hurt and we might grow from that.

Maybe some of us have never had that. Maybe some of us have had it only occasionally.

Whatever our journey to adulthood, I think some of us lose something along the way. We put up walls and keep them up. It’s protection. We keep our heart locked tight behind a rib cage, beating. Some don’t of course…they have that ability to treat others as we would the children we love – gently, patiently, kindly.

But it’s hard isn’t it? To just live in the world and not feel cynical. Not just give up when you see all the heartache.

Since my children were born, I have felt like every hurt is closer. Every child is my child. And I want change. I want a nicer, safer, kinder world.

I think many of us have a realisation in life. A radicalisation. Something changes within us, whatever the catalyst, and we decide to reject capitalism’s beat of individualism.

We realise that actually we do want to do something to stop the hurt. We do want to be part of a community.

We want to care and we do care. We’re thrown by injustice. We feel thrown off kilter by oppression. That is a good thing. I worry too often we don’t recognise that this is what it is to be human.

When I hold events there are almost always many tears. We hug and we cry with each other - and we leave little wet patches on shoulders.

Stripped of all pretence and embarrassment or ridiculous notions of shame and expectations of decorum or social niceties we are present. Really present.

I love that state of being. Just reaching out. Hugging. Kissing cheeks. Saying I care about you! Tears. Public declarations of support and love.

This is where my heart sees that other hearts beat outside bodies too.

Beating together.

It’s as if we are saying: I am changed, and the change means I can’t (and won’t) hide my hurt at seeing others hurt.

When my kids were babies, my little one would snatch a toy from his big brother. I would see my big boy weighing up his options. He knew his baby brother was learning, but he was playing with that. He would lean over and grab the toy back It’s mine not yours! And just like that the baby would search the room for something to throw to express his outrage.

Each time I would try to calm the situation:

“I will not let you hurt him” I would say.

I would gently hold the baby’s tiny fists in my hands, trying to make eye contact. He was learning, but he also had to know, I would not let him hurt his brother.

We don’t hurt each other.

In the world outside my home, when I cry and rage and feel every hurt as my own sometimes my instinct is to hide my feelings. But I am changed. And when I cry I am saying – I will not let you hurt them.

I will not let you hurt my family, my friends, the people I care about.

I will not let you hurt children, because all children are our children.

I will not let you hurt mothers. Fathers. Kaumātua. Tuākana. Tēina.

I will not let you hurt anyone – stranger or not.

I will not let you hurt me.

My tears symbolise the move my heart made. I will keep it on the outside to remind me that I am not separate from the world. We are closer than we think. We matter to each other and we owe each other. All we have is each other.

I don’t want to lose that. I want to keep it as an example to my children. Radical, loud and tangible empathy for others…

Even when I’m tired, so very, very tired. Even when it feels pointless and I feel helpless - even if my heart is all I have….I will use it. And I will stand up and speak up. I will do anything I can.

I will try.