" ‘I’ve been through all this before,’ he says to his heart.
“ ‘Yes, you have been through all this before,’
replies his heart.
‘But you have never been beyond it.’ ”
— Paulo Coelho, Warrior of the Light
“ ‘Yes, you have been through all this before,’
replies his heart.
‘But you have never been beyond it.’ ”
— Paulo Coelho, Warrior of the Light
I learned of a word recently that I had yet to ever encounter: willowwacks. It means "a wooded, uninhabited area". It's an awfully silly sounding word, but I do love what it implies: portions of space yet to be "habitated". Of course, I have no use for this word in the literal sense; I immediately thought of it metaphorically- as in, "the uninhabited regions of my soul" or, "the uncharted corners of my heart". With all the immeasurable fibers that make up our beings, surely there are portions of ourselves yet undiscovered? Absolutely, there must be fragments of our hearts yet unearthed?
Quite the admirer of all things romantic, I have always appreciated the notion that the love we emote is physiologically connected to the heart. Did you know that our hearts are enclosed in a double-walled protective sac called the pericardium? ...Neither did I. The pericardium services our heart by protecting it, anchoring it's surrounding structures, and preventing overfilling of the heart with blood. (You have no idea how difficult all this is for me to type. Squeamish McGee, that's me. Anyway...)Passed the pericardium lies the outer wall of the heart, which is composed of three layers, and just passed those three layers are the four chambers of the heart. Two of those chambers are "receiving chambers" (they receive the blood) and two are "discharging chambers" (release the blood). I know you're probably bored out of your mind right now, but I swear I have a point...
So the heart, in essence, does it's best to keep the bad out. It sustains the body. And it does all it can to prevent itself from becoming full to the point of danger. Now, dare to venture with me to my much favored and oft-visited land, Metaphoria, where I ask:
{Q} Do our metaphorical hearts do the same? Do our metaphorical pericardia protect us from heartache?
{A} I think my metaphorial pericardium must only have one layer instead of two, and that that layer must be very thin or take lots of holidays, or is just completely defunct, because many an entity has penetrated it's walls.
{Q} Does the love we harbor- in essence, our hearts- anchor our livability?
{A} Yes, love anchors me.
{Q} Is there a danger in letting our hearts be too filled?
{A} I can attest to having my heart [seemingly] so filled that it has inflicted upon my well-being.
I think of all this in relation to willowwacks- uninhabited areas. I've talked frequently and fondly of my own heartstrings; I consider those to be "habitated" portions of my heart. Those people, or places, or things, have made their way passed all protective guards and into one chamber or another and found a welcoming home there. It is those heartstrings which anchor me. But I know that as full as my heart may feel from time to time, that there are still uninhabited portions of those chambers. There are still willowwacks waiting to become habitated.
So the heart, in essence, does it's best to keep the bad out. It sustains the body. And it does all it can to prevent itself from becoming full to the point of danger. Now, dare to venture with me to my much favored and oft-visited land, Metaphoria, where I ask:
{Q} Do our metaphorical hearts do the same? Do our metaphorical pericardia protect us from heartache?
{A} I think my metaphorial pericardium must only have one layer instead of two, and that that layer must be very thin or take lots of holidays, or is just completely defunct, because many an entity has penetrated it's walls.
{Q} Does the love we harbor- in essence, our hearts- anchor our livability?
{A} Yes, love anchors me.
{Q} Is there a danger in letting our hearts be too filled?
{A} I can attest to having my heart [seemingly] so filled that it has inflicted upon my well-being.
I think of all this in relation to willowwacks- uninhabited areas. I've talked frequently and fondly of my own heartstrings; I consider those to be "habitated" portions of my heart. Those people, or places, or things, have made their way passed all protective guards and into one chamber or another and found a welcoming home there. It is those heartstrings which anchor me. But I know that as full as my heart may feel from time to time, that there are still uninhabited portions of those chambers. There are still willowwacks waiting to become habitated.
Those uninhabited areas- why are they so? Has a metaphorical pericardium made them inaccessible? Or, if the P-Word is out of commission (as in Exhibit Me), are there areas so deeply and secretly and quietly tucked away such that no one has ventured far enough to discover them? Or, is at is simple and as complex as they are uninhabited merely because no one and no thing has been able to make a home there? Yet?
Those chambers or portions of chambers, corners, taverns, and pockets of my heart that are willowwack'd- (please allow me to take liberties with the word, for 'twouldn't be the first time) they must remain uninhabited for one or all of the aforementioned theories. But to me that is not a completely desperate thought- it's an exciting one. Knowing that there are still unfulfilled, unharvested, un-tilled, undiscovered areas of love that I have yet to experience is inspiring.
I know that the habitation some of those inner willowwacks lies within me: in the paths that I pursue. As I seek for enrichment, enlightenment, joy, and passion, little by little the uninhabited regions of my heart will become home to the offspring of those endeavors. And I know that as I slowly but surely fill my heart with the things that are compelling enough to reside there, that I will become more Me.
And then, I know that maybe certain parts of my heart are uninhabited because no one has been able to penetrate it earnestly enough to take root there. Maybe no one has had the right tools and the right formula to till the fertile ground that waits there. However, if I'm unsure of when, I'm absolutely convinced of the notion that once tilled, the ground there will be floriferous beyond imagining.
I know that the habitation some of those inner willowwacks lies within me: in the paths that I pursue. As I seek for enrichment, enlightenment, joy, and passion, little by little the uninhabited regions of my heart will become home to the offspring of those endeavors. And I know that as I slowly but surely fill my heart with the things that are compelling enough to reside there, that I will become more Me.
And then, I know that maybe certain parts of my heart are uninhabited because no one has been able to penetrate it earnestly enough to take root there. Maybe no one has had the right tools and the right formula to till the fertile ground that waits there. However, if I'm unsure of when, I'm absolutely convinced of the notion that once tilled, the ground there will be floriferous beyond imagining.
My heart has been impacted, without a doubt, and it has been filled with affection to a debilitating degree at times. The metaphorical "protective sac" surrounding my heart has given entrance to many a wanderer. But feeble and perhaps relenting as that protective layer may be, I am grateful for it's open-mindedness. For no matter how it may end, inviting Love in, no matter how long it stays, will always do a soul more good than harm, if only for the small glimpses of rapture that it brings.
As silly a word as I've ever heard, yet it has inspired me to think beyond the peripheral. Love is true when it can make It's way through the pericardium, over and under and through the many cardiac walls, and make lasting home in the receiving chamber. And as this chamber and that chamber cease to be willowwacks, but become alive and full and habitated with the things that anchor us, we become more alive and full in the process.
Peace and LOVE.
Photo source: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=heart+shaped+garden&hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&biw=1680&bih=809&tbm=isch&tbnid=U7Jk_IOaABC1xM:&imgrefurl=http://blog.groorganic.com/2011/02/11/you-dont-bring-me-flowers-anymore/&docid=IoefhRNK9Jdb3M&w=567&h=567&ei=ymNJTqCHOajmiALi-eHbAQ&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=303&page=3&tbnh=152&tbnw=164&start=63&ndsp=32&ved=1t:429,r:28,s:63&tx=83&ty=59
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