A loudly honest heart
“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.”
My college roommate was a bit weird. And I mean that in the best possible way.
I still remember the first time I met Jackie outside of our freshman dorm.
“Howdy!” she exclaimed, while wrestling a spare mattress through the doorway.
And then, in the blink of an eye, we were suddenly sitting knee to knee like a pair of old friends. One of her hands was holding a cuticle pen that she either summoned out of thin air or was inexplicably carrying in her pocket. Her other hand was holding my hand, so that she could apply the cuticle oil to my ragged nails.
As she went on and on about her former nail-biting habit and how this very cuticle oil had saved her life, I was left silently wondering, “Who is this person?”
We were roommates and then we were friends, but admittedly the friend part took a little bit more time for me.
I was so taken aback by the unguarded unabashedness of her loving. And to be truthful, I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust her. How could I have when I had never before encountered such a loudly honest heart?
Eventually, I warmed up to the idea that a person could be so pure in how they shared themselves with the world. And thank god I did, or I wouldn’t have met my best friend.
Time and time again I watched the same pattern unfold.
Those cynical souls with their suspicious minds were bound to be annoyed by her brazen displays of effusive care. Who would tell them that this was the inevitable storm before the calm? Their insecurity-induced irritation was no match for the persistent nudges of her unconditional loving. Inevitably, they would fold and lay down their armor.
And just like that, Jackie had made another life-long friend.
The truth of course is that people didn’t find Jackie off-putting at first because of some horrible list of personality flaws. There wasn’t anything inherently ugly or unloveable about her.
To put it simply, people reacted negatively because they were scared and she wasn’t. She wasn’t scared of standing out. She wasn’t scared of being herself. She wasn’t even scared of allowing the world to see every ounce of love her heart contained.
And because she lived her truth with a level of consistency that only comes from integrity, most people would inevitably come around to loving her.
It can feel so scary to be ourselves in a world full of judgement.
Everyone I know has had the experience of being laughed at, mocked, or rejected for exposing their most innocent, tender, or honest parts.
So we cover ourselves up with judgements of our own. Best to be critical before you yourself are criticized. Best to leave before you yourself are abandoned. Best to lie before you yourself are deceived.
Wanting to belong, but scared of seeking belonging out, we retreat. We hide. And we lock the most valuable parts of ourselves firmly away.
Sure, the feeling of connectedness never comes, but at least it’s safer this way, right?
One of the very best things about what I do for a living is that I get to experience a lot more of people’s inner weird than most. The parts of ourselves we think are too odd or too shameful or too much tend to be the same parts with which I converse all day long.
And my god, is it spectacular.
I often suspect that if we were all a bit more brave with our loving, we could save the world.
Or at the very least, we would all feel more connected. Same thing, really, if you think about it.
Today would have been Jackie’s 37th birthday. And unfortunately, since she is no longer on this earth, she’s unable to be a walking example for brave-hearted living.
She can’t, but you can be.
Today, if you want, you can put your fears aside and be a little bit more open. Tomorrow, if you’d like, you can let your guard down and be a little bit more loving.
Sure, it might feel a bit weird.
But in my opinion, all the best things in life are.