When I visualize my heart I see it battered and bruised. The evidence of old wounds. There would be signs, also, of my attempt to protect it; an old broken stone wall forgotten, and a battered shield lying to waste.
Friend, our existence is full of rules – all the shoulds – that never ending list of things that we’re supposed to do, or be, or have.
Gradually it begins to make us feel inadequate and lost. As though we’re wading into a pool teaming with razor sharp claws hell-bent on ripping us apart, pulling off all the hopes and dreams, the things seen as insubstantial, thus leaving us feeling small.