When Mr Death comes knocking

Sometimes my heart doesn't feel like the human organ indicating life - more like the organ at a human funeral. Sometimes my heart doesn't feel like the carefree child with a jump in her step - more like a bleak graveyard pregnant with dead bodies. Pregnant with frozen memories. Pregnant with buried emotions. Sometimes my heart doesn't feel like the vehicle for an identity to grow - more like an unfound unidentified pregnant corpse. Pregnant with life giving sacrifices. Pregnant with unrequited love. Sometimes my heart drowns me, murders me with too much passion, too much compassion, too much life.

I am weighed down and down and down, much deeper than six feet. I am weighed down and down and down until i cant breath anymore. I am weighed down and down and down until i am woken by a knock on the door. The knocking gets louder. I get up. The knocking gets louder, but its never impatient and its only louder because i am at the door now. I open up. It is Mr Death. And as i stand there blinded by light coming from behind Mr Death, i realise, Mr Death has just brought me out of my own darkness.

I don't feel heavy, down and grave anymore. I thank Mr Death from the bottom of my now feather light heart. He doesn't say anything back. He only hands me an envelope. It is a picture of the Tarot's Hanged Man - a card talking about surrender - to surrender to all that which weighs you down. And not fight it. To surrender to dark rivers drowning your understanding. And just go with the flow. To surrender to solitary landscapes of not feeling understood. And let life throw whatever it wants to throw at you. It doesn't matter. You are not phased. To surrender to hear Mr Death knocking again. And see the blinding light shining again coming from behind him. To surrender. And feel nothing. To surrender. And finally become empty of yourself. Because only when you feel nothing, and only when you are empty of all these heart matters, can you see and feel the wonder, magic and ecstasy of everything.