After a couple of weeks I notice a difference. The first modest walk I embarked on made my wimpy heart pound, but the friend I was with was content to pause a few times. Plus she did most of the talking, seeing as I had no excess breath for multi tasking. 

 

Initially my circulatory system had an emergency meeting.

 

 

But I stepped out the next day, and the next, and my valves were commandeered to open wider, push harder. When I slogged up the ridiculously steep incline of Alden Road and slumped into a soft chair, my chest heaved. But not from giving up. From strength. 

 

The curious part is, I don't precisely understand where the newfound stamina comes from. Clearly not from me. Doesn't any increase necessitate a decrease somewhere else? That is how it happens with inventory. 

 

A year ago I started a virtual journey. Turmoil in the country tugged me to buy books, and watch movies about social justice. I can recall conversations in which my tenacity was lacking. Can't we stop now? Opening myself to the realities of both historical travesties and current inequity required more of me than I wanted to give.

 

Then other forms of prejudice found purchase in my limited attention. I timidly stepped into conversations and books that pressed my too small heart into service. After sixty odd years of sitting in my own vantage point it was time to get moving. 

 

Recently I was listening to a friend who is grappling with these conflicts too. It was painful, and confusing. In her face I saw my struggle from barely a month ago. It is all still a skirmish for me, but a tiny bit less so than it was. We could pause, while she caught her breath. To give her a moment to expand. Dilate. 

 

The miracle is that when I ask my Heart for more compassion, it appears. It does not also deplete any kindness I might have for other persons. There is simply more to go around. The only thing that decreases is my ego.