Prompt: What if guarding your heart is unequal to not getting hurt?
There is a command. It resonates deep between her ears like the nervous ends of a tuning fork hit on the knee. It sounds right. It’s in perfect harmony. Buzzing, ringing, fading away but smoothly, evenly, music to any ear, fresh air. Lovely. So she spends her desperate days reaching for it.
Denying, in this impossible (possible?) reach, what feels like every urge inside of her to be uniquely her. Wired up to be the way she should be. What is the way she should be? Instead, this reaching reaches her to be a garden locked up, a rock garden locked, a spring sealed up [songs 4:12]. She seasons her interactions with resistance. She locks up. Seals shut that which she longs to share. Sometimes, in despair (misunderstanding?) she shakes her head and walks away.
This is not unconditionally fun (easy?). Should it be? It feels intentionally outcast to her. She keeps shooing folks out of wandering around in the garden or wherever, but then there she is walking around an empty and barren place that was beautiful, waiting for walkers and wanderers and anyone. But she wouldn’t let them in. And yet, there she is left in the garden only for her, meant to believe that this guarding is good for her.
If she, the child, does this one thing well, she will be whole and free from hurting. She will heal, but it will take time. And she will never understand time, but she will hurt in this hope for healing.
Read also: Anne’s words on Hearts and Wisdom