“Open your heart,” he said, at the same time using both hands to pull from the center of his chest – as if pulling ribs to expose – to “open” his heart. I watch unmoved by the words and gesticulated reminder of Hanuman – mythological Hindu deity who rips his chest open to reveal Lord Krishna seated in the mystical heart.
Smiling now, he does it again while repeating his words. Hands posed as if gripping, pulling. Ribs parting, tearing flesh, bending bones. Intention without reservation. “Just open your heart!”
New York City, The intersection of Greenwich and Liberty. We’d just walked through the Twin Tower Memorial. The recessed fountains, rimmed as they are with brass – engraved with the names of the dead. Water ever flowing, down and down again. Now the new tower stands with all it’s shifting angularity. Like others, I stood in place looking up. It’s an out of town’er thing, but who cares, I couldn’t resist. It compels those standing at it’s base to stare up and farther up toward it’s spire’d top, obscured then visible again as clouds drift, directed by shifting currents, winds I couldn’t feel. Continue Reading