Heart (repost from 2005)


Noel Hart, Crimson Rosella


David Watts, Crimson Rosella


Crimson Bouquet

Imagine your heart as an opening lotus.
From its center comes a crimson child,
Pure, virginal, and innocent.

One meditation gives this instruction :

Imagine your heart opening into a red lotus.
From its center comes a crimson child.
Bring this child out of your body and imagine him or her floating above
your head. You, as a child, are holding a sun in each hand while each foot stands
on a moon.
Hold this image as long as you can.

It is hard to bring out this child. When you try, you realize how many defenses you have built around yourself. You also realize how the experiences of adolescence and adulthood have stained you. Sometimes, you may even doubt that you have a pure and innocent self to bring out anymore. But each of us does. Each of us must find that crimson child within us and bring him or her out. For this child represents the time when our energies were whole and our hearts were untroubled by the duplicity of the world and ourselves.

Deng Ming Tao, 365 Tao

Norah Jones
Seven Years

Spinning, laughing, dancing to
her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone

Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she’ll sing her song to anyone
that comes along

Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin’ to the ground
Without a sound

Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That’s all her own

Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
And she’s all alone

My child sees the sky
by Ganesh Visputay

My child sees the sky
She sees trees, vines, flowers and blossoms,
The arabesques adorned by leaves and flowers
Of various trees,
Stars shining through those designs,
She gazes steadfast
Cuddled in the cradle of my arms
And she smiles
After a while
I see that she sees all this

I too begin to see
Trees, vines, sprays of flowers

Where had the sky hidden all these years?

Why is it we hide our hearts from others? What is it we are afraid they will see? How much we love them? Alas, I’ve lost friends for that great crime. Or, perhaps, people would see how much we care only for ourselves, and not for them. I suppose people think that of me as well, even though it isn’t true. If only we were as unafraid to show our beautiful colors as a gorgeous crimson rosella.

Perhaps our hearts our not really hidden at all, at least, from the child in each of us. I tend to look at others with a child’s eye, and see them for who they truly are. And sometimes, this seems to be what other people fear most of all — that I will know them, know their secrets, know all the things they have hidden away and covered up in order to be accepted in the world, all the things they truly feel but are afraid to express. And, that I will still love them — anyway. or perhaps even because of those things. Why are we afraid to be who we are?