We wrap our hearts with cloth, folding the fabric twice over, cautious and scared. Always scared. We were told that the heart is a fragile thing; something to be carried with both hands cupped. We lock it, carry it in our pockets, build cities and fortresses around it, safe. Always safe.

But safe also means hidden, kept from, concealed. Safe means buried in a place that the sunlight cannot reach. And these hearts of ours — these precious, beating things — were meant, more than anything, to be given away to the world.

There is a reason why the heart is flesh and raw and tender. There is a reason why it is soft and easily bruised. There is a reason why the poets ardently ask that you wear it on your sleeve.

I am learning that only the vulnerable heart can love rightly.

The vulnerable heart lays its crown aside, removes all defenses and absorbs the impact. And it is only until you are willing to get crushed and rejected, until you are willing to play the part of the fool, until you are willing to be humiliated and broken and scarred, that you will understand the virtue of love.

Because love is not the feeling that they told us about.

Love is fierce and love is fearless. Love is not afraid to take risks. It does not count the cost, holds no measuring stick against the finite. It does not compromise. It is relentless and passionate and big. Love does not hesitate because love is not self-entitled. It does not stop to think about what it deserves because love lays down all its rights. It will concede to the possibility of getting trampled on but, even then, it will persist. Love refuses to be tied down by fear.

And I guess, at some point, we must all begin the impossible task of taking our hearts out of the secret places we’ve kept them hidden. Out of jars and vaults and basements and closets; out of coffins and treasure chests and citadels made of indestructible steel.

And when the unhedged heart is free to dance and love, when it is unencumbered by the shadows we’ve clothed it in — yes, even after it has been sucker-punched in the gut by heartbreak — we will find that the true danger of the world is staying safe in the first place.

#things that come out when i am alone at night

(Source)

We wrap our hearts with cloth, folding the fabric twice over, cautious and scared. Always scared. We were told that the heart is a fragile thing; something to be carried with both hands cupped. We lock it, carry it in our pockets, build cities and fortresses around it, safe. Always safe.

But safe also means hidden, kept from, concealed. Safe means buried in a place that the sunlight cannot reach. And these hearts of ours — these precious, beating things — were meant, more than anything, to be given away to the world.

There is a reason why the heart is flesh and raw and tender. There is a reason why it is soft and easily bruised. There is a reason why the poets ardently ask that you wear it on your sleeve.

I am learning that only the vulnerable heart can love rightly.

The vulnerable heart lays its crown aside, removes all defenses and absorbs the impact. And it is only until you are willing to get crushed and rejected, until you are willing to play the part of the fool, until you are willing to be humiliated and broken and scarred, that you will understand the virtue of love.

Because love is not the feeling that they told us about.

Love is fierce and love is fearless. Love is not afraid to take risks. It does not count the cost, holds no measuring stick against the finite. It does not compromise. It is relentless and passionate and big. Love does not hesitate because love is not self-entitled. It does not stop to think about what it deserves because love lays down all its rights. It will concede to the possibility of getting trampled on but, even then, it will persist. Love refuses to be tied down by fear.

And I guess, at some point, we must all begin the impossible task of taking our hearts out of the secret places we’ve kept them hidden. Out of jars and vaults and basements and closets; out of coffins and treasure chests and citadels made of indestructible steel.

And when the unhedged heart is free to dance and love, when it is unencumbered by the shadows we’ve clothed it in — yes, even after it has been sucker-punched in the gut by heartbreak — we will find that the true danger of the world is staying safe in the first place.

#things that come out when i am alone at night

(Source)