What do you do with a broken heart...

Libra 2 // you hold it tenderly.

I had an entirely different post planned for this week’s card, but after the utter heartbreak and devastation in the world it seems like the only thing I can write about. Go gently, and take care of yourself.

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The second decan¹ of Libra corresponds to the 3 of Swords. One of the less desirable cards in the tarot deck for its’ associations with heartbreak and break-ups. But as the news rolls in this week, I think this card holds so much truth for our collective grief.

I’m not going to really speak at all on a geopolitical-religious conflict that is older than I am. I’m simply going to acknowledge the heartache. I’m going to name the grief and helplessness of watching war play out in real time. And like this beautiful song says, I’m going to talk about it “so it doesn’t sit all alone in my heart.”

stormy skies & bleeding hearts // 3 Swords

What do we do with a broken heart? I, for one, was not given many tools for how to process (or even feel) my feelings. So for the majority of my life I stuffed them down, absorbed their energy into my bones, and overthought my way into a quiet sense of woe and hyper-vigilance. This was a helpful, hidden way for my body to deal at the time, and it kept me safe in a world that said all negative emotions were bad and that my body was a source of sin and lies. But it doesn’t help me anymore. I’m out of that environment and I can care for myself in more healing ways.

This morning I joined my online meditation class for the first time in weeks. They meet in the middle of my kids’ morning exit so I don’t always have time to login, but I knew I needed it today. So after getting the big kids out the door I explained to my 7 year old that she would be joining me for some “quiet” time. She grabbed some dolls and her mini yoga mat and sat with me as I joined the zoom call.

I lit a candle and rang a bell to clear the air and I told myself I would sit with whatever feelings showed up. I read a litany for the Holy Land, because I needed to feel the solid foundation of an ancient tradition that calls for Mercy. I promised myself that I would not get up or distract myself, and that I could handle whatever came.

As soon as I took a few slow breaths, deep into the core of me, the sadness rolled in and I let the tears fall. My little one played on the floor next to me, talking to her dolls or stroking my knee sweetly and I channeled all my Mother Love for her and held my own shattered heart. I also sent it out across the sea. I sent my broken heart with it’s boundless love out to any mother who is terrified or alone or holding their own little one while hiding from bombs today.

My meditation teacher² read a quote this morning by Rev. Angel³ Kyoto Williams: “We sit with our bodies until the injustice of the world becomes unbearable.” What do we do with a broken heart? We let our hearts be tenderized and softened so that we remain awake to the suffering of the world. We hold it, even when it feels unbearable. We let it break wide open to make more room for compassion, for mercy, for justice⁴.

I don’t know anything about the conflict in Gaza⁵. My distant, biased opinion doesn’t serve anyone. I was raised by evangelicals⁶ with a mythic view of sacred texts and American history. My Bible teacher in high school had us read The Chosen and the book of Revelation, and I was obsessed with the fiction of Brock and Bodie Thoene (iykyk). So I have literally nothing to say - except this one very important truth.

No one will make me dehumanize another person ever again.

Not a parent, or a pastor, or a politician.

I left fundamentalism and I will not be forced into black-and-white thinking, I will not reduce an entire group of people into one category of “other,” I will not center myself and my country in the context of human history; no matter how comforting it feels.

I am my own keeper, and my heart belongs to me. My heart is holding everyone that is suffering right now. It feels like swords plunging straight into my beating heart, but I’m holding every single one.

Holy Mother of Justice, inspire us.

What do you do with a broken heart? I can tell you what you don’t do: binge social media takes, get a stack of geopolitical books⁷ out from the library, or try to get into a discussion about systemic violence with your mom over coffee. Nope, that’s not my job. My job right now is to acknowledge my grief, continue healing healing healing, and to treasure my precious humanity⁸.

The pain is also the medicine. No one gets out of this existence with an intact heart. It’s how we humanize each other. We can meet each other in our tenderness, find each other in our wounded places. I think it’s the only way we get through this.

“We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.” Tennessee Williams

1. I’m halfway through my decan walk! Time flies!

2. I have been learning from & practicing with Carl & Erin for several years now and feel abundant gratitude for the online space they hold - you can find one of their online classes (many are free!) HERE, and you can sign up for their Patreon HERE and join me for morning meditation every weekday at 6am MT, 8am EST.

3. The World is our Field of Practice

4. Libra season corresponds to the Justice card in tarot.

5. I’m listening to the voices of people directly connected to this unfolding crisis and

Rebecca Woolf

wrote a beautiful and heart-breaking reflection this week that I’ve read and reread and I hope you do too.

6.

Crystal Britt

wrote a bit about the evangelical lens this week and how this conflict has been a lot to process for those of us who have left - mostly because of the whole “end of the world” thing.

7. I don’t have any books to recommend today because one way I prioritize healing is to not compulsively read all there is to read about fascism, the holy land, or how democracies crumble. INSTEAD! I’m listening to meditations on my insight timer app, and funny podcasts like Conan Needs a Friend.

8. This job description is a direct quote from an interview

D.L. Mayfield

did a few weeks back with Carolyn Baker. This was Baker’s beautiful advice right at the end of the conversation and I immediately wrote it down and have been reminding myself of it ever since. Grieve. Heal. Treasure your humanity.