My heart has been poked at a lot lately, some a sweet "wake up," some more like prodding, others...stabbing. Yesterday, however, was a very direct poke...with a needle....or 14...in the back, shoulders, and wrists. Aimed at the heart. Yesterday was my first ever acupuncture appointment.
I don't even know where to begin in describing the magic that was yesterday--right now I am as clear as I have never been about how messy I am. I don't mean my home, my wild hair, or my car (those of you who know wish you didn't....) I mean the messiness of my poked at heart.
This heart of mine gets poked because it is the only way into it--the four doors are shut and I am pretending that I am not home to open them. Or downright refusing too. Or using fake voices so that those poking think they have the wrong heart address--that its chica from Brooklyn (the only accent I can do consistently). This doesn't mean that I am not all for love and generous with giving it--its just the doors only swing out and then slam back shut before I can receive love myself. In fact, any sort of poke--soft, forceful, searching--is met with defensiveness, misinterpretation of the pokers intentions, and often confusion at my own response. What a mess.
A fiery mess--turns out my fire element is blazing. Pitta. This information was entirely unexpected and entirely understandable. I always thought I was more Vappa, windy, an all over the place, disconnected gypsy soul. Turns out fire and wind are connected, and those of you living in 40 degree dry BC with me right now know what wind does to wild fire. More than messy--downright destructive.
Which is why I am so grateful for the magic of yesterday. For the awareness that was created around my tendency to feel unheard, my difficulties in communicating, and how the two render me incapable of listening to my inner truth, and thus feeling like an all over the place disconnected gypsy soul when all I want to do is find the balance between joy and sorrow and let as much love in as I give out Wow what a sentence. Just wow.
You see, receiving love is the greatest from of getting it; letting people in is how you love them. Allowing yourself to be loved is opening your heart to be more pure in love. And a closed heart results in a closed mind, or at least a closed circuit of communication between the two which only stokes the fire and deprives it of water. These are not metaphors I am creating. This is Chinese Medicine--ancient wisdom. And I am truly fascinated.
Fire. Small intestine. A twenty minute reading of my pulse that provoked very intuitive questions about my past. Magic. And for my present, what does that mean? It means a dry blend of herbs with the cutest little spoon three times a day, more pokes to realign my chi, and an awareness of my defensive responses and (not)listening tendencies; for now learning to respond to love with trust and gratitude rather than through a locked door in the Bronx. For my future? Hopefully a heart with four open doors each with their own clever welcome mat; a heart that gives and receives feedback from the mind, and gives and receives love fluidly. A little more water like.