Roughly two years ago, on one of my social media pages I proposed, “Distance makes the heart grow __________.”  It was an outreach intended for any/all friends or family to respond with their answer.  Or answers.  Some were comical, some more serious.  Some reactions were wise and others rhetorical.  A few from the experiment:

“grateful.”

“more complicated.”

“into a dilated cardiomyopathy.”

“antsy.  heavy.”

“period.”

What I’ve enjoyed the most all this time, is to go back and look over the submissions; especially and particularly when I feel like I am at a distance with myself.  When I feel as though there is a disconnect between what my physical body is doing (driving, emailing, adulting) and how my heart would prefer, no, yearn to be serving.  This disparity is not all too frequent, as I have been fortunate and proactive enough to build over the last few years a life that I want among my personal, professional, and energetic capacities (ongoing efforts).  I am so thankful to be experiencing my life as envisioned, almost daily.  Nevertheless, like the true depth of the human experience, I also engage in my fair share of wonderment.  Of curiosity.  Of doubt.  Of questioning the “enoughness” within my life.

Perhaps, instead of “distance” at the beginning of the sentence, we replace it with “difficulty” or “barriers.”  Whatever resistant-like quality or property that you might face, can you complete the phrase?  Would you answer it differently depending on the circumstances?

I’ve also pondered over these last couple of years, whether or not the same participants would answer in the same way, at any given point.  On the one hand, I’d like to think so.  That maybe each person replied from a heartfelt, core value, derived out of their upbringing, which ultimately floats atop all waves of change.  I’d also like to consider that some might alter their answers.  Perhaps the ones who initially offered up a little heartache have found some relief in love or other such nourishment.  That maybe those who weren’t so sure in the first place, have encountered more stability and understanding in their lives.  And maybe I’m just a vulnerable optimist always looking for the good in people.  (What, can you tell??)

Really, the answers only need to matter to that one.  To the one that writes it wholeheartedly.  Or to the one who reads it and thinks, “Yes!  How did that person know exactly how I feel?!”  Through this connection.  Through this human resilience.  Through this deliberate authenticity might we continue to build the bridges that join us.  Honoring that individual experiences and perspectives can continue to strengthen the web of our earth.  And that these threads can essentially improve our awareness of one another, thus narrowing whatever distance was there beforehand.