people who care

Working on Shambhala, he talks a lot about tenderness of the heart, the broken heart.  I've found this confusing, and unspecific.  I haven't been sure how to work with it.  Sometimes I think, "Oh, I wish this were in English!"

But it is in English, and there's nothing wrong with the English.  It's the concept that's foreign.

Yesterday, I had a thought.  "People who care don't let go."  I was very pleased with myself.  It was all nice and tidy.

"People who care don't let go."  Oh, I thought it explained so much!

As I kept thinking about it though, I realized - it's too easy.  I'm right at Chapter Seven, the part about the cocoon.  Is this something I have pinned to the wall of my cocoon?  Right there next to the Peter Frampton poster?

"People who care don't let go."

There's something trite about it.  Something self-righteous.  Something controlling.  It allows me to vilify, and to stick everyone who has left into a category.  It's judgmental.  It's a good line in a bad movie - the kind of line they would put in the trailer to make you think, "Oh, this movie is going to be good, it's clever!"  Then you watch the movie and you realize.... no, it isn't.

Then I changed it.

"People who care do let go."

Wow, that's painful.

But it explains a lot too.  It feels more open.  Anger and fear drops away, and all that's left is truth and space.

"People who care do let go."

There is space, but there's no room left for vilification or judgment.  Or ego.  It is only space.

It just is.  It isn't "about" and it isn't "because".  It just is.

It makes much more sense.

It's a real good poke with a stick, that.

The heart does feel more tender, and more full.

It's why we need to be brave.

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