Days 275-277 – What Opens the Heart?

Early autumn in the south. Tired trees exhaust their first leaves. The browning corpses lie collapsed on the ground from which they grew. Their scent disturbs mine.

"My heart is closed," the acquaintance of a friend of mine said recently. Her relationship with a longtime partner had shattered. What other way to heal the heart than to close its doors for awhile – to nurse it within some kind of shelter?

"My patient died on me," I heard a nurse say one morning. "That's the last time I'm going to let myself get that close."

What closes the heart? What causes us to throw open her windows once again?

So many love the fall. Since 1955, when my father moved us from southern California's sun to northern Ohio's clouds, I have dreaded it.

How foolish of me to let my heart be chilled by the arrival of this gorgeous chapter in the year. The south taught me this. It's kinder change of seasons eased my heart back open, nudging me with the wisdom that I could tell myself a new story about autumn.

It is important to grieve. Like Jews during Yom Kippur, it is healing to honor what (and who) has died and crucial to forgive what must expire in order to passionately embrace the current moment.

To allow grief and bitterness to close our hearts is to dishonor our soul's power to meet loss with Love.

What is the source of the energy that shuts the heart's door, locks it, and casts away the key? Part of the answer lies in the stories we tell ourselves about what has been done to us.

A nurse says bitterly to herself, "My patient died on me – after all I did for him and how much I loved him." If she keeps repeating this story to herself each day, her ability to heal others will diminish.

After a Catholic system bought Nashville's Baptist Hospital the leadership promised to keep me on as CEO for five years. Nine months later, they broke that promise.

Quickly, I created the story that the new leader fired me because he was jealous of my influence and popularity. For two more years, I continued telling myself that story as my heart turned cold toward the new owners.

One day, my story changed. My termination had little to do with me and more to do with what the new leadership wanted. I am more than my oft-wounded ego.

The moment my story changed, so did my life.

Why do we let painful stories dominate our days? Why not let our spirit, not our ego tell a new story?

Grieving must come. After that, it is time to build a new story in the moment. It is time to fling open the windows so Love may shine.

-Erie Chapman

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Categories: Reflections, Holidays, Spirituality

Tags: caregivers, Erie Chapman, Forgiveness, loss, Love

5 responses to “Days 275-277 – What Opens the Heart?”

Leeann

October 1, 2012 at 8:24 am

I am reminded of John O’Donohue’s quote from his book, Beauty, “some Loves leave us and we turn quickly to the kiss of gratitude, grateful for loving at all; others vanish and we mourn for the rest of our lives.” For me, it has something to do with how deeply Love pierced.
This photograph, with such a small trace of hand on the hill, is a short story in itself. Thank you.

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Deacon Dan

October 1, 2012 at 9:11 am

The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves determine the quality of the selves we imagine we are. The stories we tell about others determine the quality of our relationships with them.
— Rami Shapiro in Hasidic Tales: Annotated and Explained
To Practice This Thought: Notice what kinds of stories you tend to tell about yourself and others — are they tales of woe or hope? — remembering that they are acts of “world-making.” From Spirituality and Practice Website.

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candace nagle

October 1, 2012 at 9:21 am

To be able to discern the difference between a story that we are telling ourselves and the actual self truth; the wisdom of the experience which may be the gift of grief (the healing)…that is the challenge. Maybe living the half truth of a story has to happen because the pain of reality is too intense…or maybe the story is part of the journey to the truth. It is wise to ask ourselves what stories we are living/believing about ourselves and others. It is wise in many ways. But we forget and need to be reminded. We forget that the door to our cage is open…It opens from the inside.

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Erie Chapman Foundation

October 1, 2012 at 9:44 am

Leeann, Deacon Dan & Candace,
Thanks so much for these marvelous insights. Each of you has added so much wisdom with your comments. Also, Leeann, thanks for noticing the hand. Dan, thank you for framing “what kinds of stories” we tell about ourselves and others. Candace, I appreciate you honing the question of differentiating between the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves as compared to the actual self truth. Have you found the key to your cage?

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~liz Wessel

October 3, 2012 at 9:05 am

“To allow grief and bitterness to close our hearts is to dishonor our soul’s power to meet loss with Love” what a powerful statement, Erie. Although grief is painful, it is as necessary as the air we breathe. We need to go through it in order to come into the Light again. Facing loss and the inevitable loss of our own lives (and those we love)…is something we may never come to fully accept but perhaps we can learn to let go of the suffering (Buddhist concept). I don’t wish bitterness on anyone.
Candace’s comment reminds me of my favorite image of Jesus standing outside knocking on a door but interestingly, the door has no handle. We must open the door of our heart from within.
Perhaps, what we all share is that deep longing.

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