Heartaches
Heartaches are like aches of the body. They come and go. Sometimes you wrap the wound, or you apply liniment, or your mother kisses your boo-boo. Or you wake up the next morning, and the wound still exists, and yet you are not wounded. You are no longer in that state of woundedness. You got past it. Ache is no longer paramount. The depth of the ache has spent itself, or you spent it, or you walked on without the pebble in your shoe. Whatever the scars, they are just there. You can poke scars, and yet they hurt no longer.
Scars are like memories, and memories are like scars.
There comes a time when you let sleeping dogs lie, and you step over them, or you tiptoe around them.
It is possible for you to come to a state where your body is so resilient that no scars are formed. If a blade does penetrate your body, it is pulled out in a flash, and the stab heals itself right away, or your invulnerability heals the stab before it enters. In any case, the blade never reached the vital organs. It is not exactly that you are untouched. You feel, and yet you are invulnerable. Water rolls off your back.
And so with wounds of the heart. It is wounds of the heart that We are really talking about. Your heart is open and warm and resilient, and wounds can no longer go deep. Or, if they do, the healing of them is instantaneous. A wounds dips in, and it dips out like a pen in an ink well.
This is not a philosophy I am speaking of. This is not theory. This is actuality.
You will admit that something that hurt you once no longer holds a place of such eminence. The unkind word no longer slashes you. Not at all. You shrug your shoulders now more than you wince or weep.
You stroll along life, and what lies on the curb simply is there, and you pass it by. Once upon a time, if your hair were not curled, you would have been beside yourself. Once upon a time, if someone had snubbed you or no longer attested to his love for you, you would have clutched your heart in pain. By the same token, once upon a time, if you had been the one to leave another's heart crushed, you would have been soaked in remorse.
Now you know that all the passersby on the path of world life are there only for a specious distance called time. Now you know that all the momentary in life is momentary, and you do not carry the yoke of it.
Now you also know that life is not a whirlwind you ride out. You know there is a steadiness and constancy of life that never leaves. You know you are more than mortal. You know that your body and events in life are nothing more than your body and events in life.
Now you know the wondrousness of life. Instead of being beside yourself in upset, you know you are beside yourself in Immortality. You know that the only thing that ends is the body and any of its accompanying pain, unendurable or durable, that seemed to jog beside you and now passes you by as a stranger might. If the stranger might continue to try to encroach on you, then you simply pass by it.
What was all the fuss in life, you ask yourself. What was all the fuss about?
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