In bringing the heaven that is held within our heart to earth, to give it life and colour, we fulfill the promise we made for this lifetime.

When we wish to know what we really care about, what it is that we wish deeply to be in this life, it is always the heart that we seek.

But what is this place called ‘Heart’, this source of so much of the world’s greatness? From where come so many defining qualities of love and the human adventure of life?

It can pull star dreams to earth, for the heart has created all the wonders of the world, all the gifts of humanity and all the songs of love.

This heart, this place of life’s embodiment, is more than just another part of us, it is a door to something far greater than our bland education can cope with. Perhaps it should be called the deep heart, for it certainly is not the heart of shallow emotions or vain morality that can masquerade as life’s purpose.
It holds no imitation of truth, no charade of meaning. It has something far more within it. It is the home of a benevolent will; of courage, of a relentless compassion, an infinite hope, and it is the source of our love.

It is the place of an innocence that dispels the cynicism we hold in ourselves and of our self. It is a wise innocence that gives the trust that life means us harm, that all is OK.

It is the place of truth, not the truth of yesterday or tomorrow that the mind struggles to know, but the truth of the moment, the living truth. And when allowed, it is a cathedral of light, a library of illumined text that describes the union of heaven and earth. Its call has the power to move mountains or create the gentlest touch of love. it is the artist within, the writer of meanings and the manifester of dreams.

When we to let go of the memories of life that keep us bound unto our self, and abandon our meaning of the moment of the now, we enter the moments of the now and become singular in our adoration of life.

This deep heart lives in a different world, a timeless world that has within it images that makes the brash brushstrokes of the mind seem childish by comparison

It is a chamber of the miraculous and the source of a well-being that fits like a glove to who we are. It has within its aura a cognisance of why we are here, the remembering of some lost forgotten vow we made for this life.

Although we live in a world of this and that, there is within the heart the dreams of forever and memories of the infinite.

When we open this door to the deep heart, we befriend ourself again. The mind becomes settled and the silly things that seemed so important melt away, replaced with a wish not to leave this place of deep nourishment. It carries a sense of easement and simplicity; there are no disturbing sounds, no struggles with errant memories and no complex battles for there are no foes to fight. It feels like home. We become ourselves, whole and unrestricted in what is possible. There is a sense of some kind of communion with a lost part of ourself, a part of us that does love us dearly, as we do it.

A story: In times past it was not possible for the human to perceive our direct connection to God, so the great temples and churches with all their beautiful images and architecture were created as houses of God and offered a mirror to the place within ourselves where this was possible, our own heart.

The priests and holy people became the stewards of God until such a time as humans were able to know their own hearts. Their houses of God became the place for guidance and succour or relief from the apparent absence of God. Although this was useful it did compound the illusion that the divine aspect was outside of us and that it was them not the people that could know God.
That atmospheric glory and peaceful beauty that the great temples and cathedrals have held within their walls, is but a mild reflection of what can be found within the chamber of our own heart. The door is now open, and it only asks that we cherish our life above all else, for when that cherishing is true it will be given to all that we see.

By Toby
http://www.tobynegus.com