I am always sending things out: ideas, emotions, hope, and it sometimes seems that I am sending these things out into a shapeless void. I place pieces of my heart in sealed envelopes, put them in my outgoing mail, and never hear anything ever again. This is a false view, of course, and self-centered and hysterically negative and all of the things that a person should avoid when it comes to perspective, but it sometimes feels true.
Last night felt different. I had spent the afternoon sending random heart pieces out into the world: offers, ideas, efforts, submissions, prayers, and three of them came back to me powerfully in the span of one hour. And I couldn’t help but notice and be thankful for this physical feeling in my chest that felt like a door cracking open. I had been banging on this door for some time. Truthfully, I’d been alternately ramming my body into it with a running head start and hiding in the room’s opposite corner, but last night, I felt a glow and peace that comes from light making its way into darkness.
It felt like an open door.
And in that moment, I knew that every small thing I send out to the world does make its way somewhere, even if I’m not sure where, and even if I never hear about it again. It exists and so do I, and that seems like an obvious statement but honestly I question it from time to time. I question my value and the things I make and do and how my raw feelings for people are received. We all feel this way sometimes, don’t we? Unrequited, unreciprocated, void. I try hard to make sure others’ heart pieces don’t fall on that ground when they are addressed to me, but I am certain I sometimes fail. We all do, I guess.
Anyway, last night for a good long beat, I felt the plan of God for me and it was good. I felt loved, protected, guided and encouraged to continue sending pieces of my heart out in precious pre-paid envelopes, sprayed with fragrance and with my return address clearly printed in the corner. After all, who knows what will come through that open door?