In her book, Tiny Beautiful Things, Cheryl Strayed writes that “withholding distorts reality, it makes people who do the withholding ugly and small hearted. It makes the people from whom things are withheld crazy and desperate, and incapable of knowing what they actually feel”.
If the world is becoming increasingly desperate and crazy, perhaps it is because many of us are withholding the truth of our big-hearted realness from the people and places we are intended to attend to. Due to our own doubts about the legitimacy of what we feel and the validity of what we have to say, most of us keep our voices from being heard. We hide-away the holiest parts of ourselves, until it succumbs to anemia and atrophy. We fear the vulnerability of being seen and we bury the brightness of our being in the density of the dark, until even our own hearts begin to shrivel and constrict.
We become a forest of gnarled branches twisting towards even the faintest shards of light. We ache and we pine in the neglect and deprivation of our quiet yearning and silent lament. But what if we saw the mutual reciprocity that resides between the heavens and our hearts? What if we recognized that the energy igniting the truth that burns in the depths of who we are, is the same force and fire that lights the stars? What if we pulled our heart-strings taunt across the sanctity of the safe place at our center and sang out long and hard?
What if when we stop withholding, the universe stops withholding too? What if we, ourselves, are that part of the cosmos that expresses it’s deepest truths?