Welcome, travellers. How wonderful to find you here. You might be wondering where here is. Here is a place that will never appear on the map of any country, or of any solar system. Here is a place so obvious and common you will not remember it when you leave. Here is the invisible landing strip at the edge of that multidimensional point where all universes expand, contract and converge until the next step, where the path is forged as you walk it.
Here is also where my monkey mind doesn’t want to think or write and so I have run out of things to write about. And when I run out of thing to write about, I just breathe and listen to my heart. Or the heartbeat of others.
You know heart, don’t you? It’s that vital organ in your body, leftish side, protected by your ribcage. It’s the one that does the thump, thump, thump thing non-stop. It’s the beatbox, drum kit contraption in a body that pounds, pounds, pounds and pumps, skips, jumps, runs, stretches, opens, lets people and ideas and creatures in and throws them out, takes so many things and gives just as much away, aches with longing and love and other times bursts with joy. It’s that four-chambered muscle that moves in a rhythm for your entire life until the day that it doesn’t any more.
Now you might think that heart is the only thing involved in love and to a point you would be correct. However, the thing we call mind is equally involved. Not that we know what mind is. It’s a name for something we can’t see, don’t know where to find, or how it even comes into being. Like love.
It is the mind that makes the world, interprets all of the information from the 17 different senses and the 175,000 teeny tiny energy sensors in the body and from all of that input, decides what to pay attention to and what to ignore. Mind is also believing what we want to see and that can sometimes lead a heart astray.
The heart would not know love were it not for mind. Heart and mind need each other. The ultimate partnership, sometimes graceful and together as in a fluid pas-de-deux or sometimes disjointed and disconnected in an angst-ridden, edgy Dada-esque dance farce.
In lesbians, heart is bigger than most. You laugh, but I know this to be true. The evidence, you ask? If it were not bigger than most, no sane, reasonable woman would ever throw convention aside and risk so much to do what her heart compelled her to do: to find love and life with a woman, emotionally, sexually, whole heartedly. No woman would do that against all odds, giving up family, safety and in some cases, sanity. Granted sanity and in some cases, family, is highly overrated but even so: to follow your heart’s desire takes a bigger heart, a bigger mind than what’s required to conform to what’s expected. Were the lesbian heart not bigger than most, there would be no lesbians.
What does this bigger-than-most lesbian heart want? Everything. Anything. Something.
It is true that not all lesbians want relationships. And not all lesbians want love. Some just want sex; that heart-stopping, crazy-making, deep, dizzying, amazing and intense sex, with as many women as possible. Why not? As long as orgasms are not confused with love, all is well, all will be well.
It is also true that not all who are lesbians today will be lesbians for the rest of their life. The heart wants what the heart wants. And sometimes it takes us away from what we thought we knew about ourselves.
What does the lesbian heart want? Goddess only knows. Maybe it wants many things. Spectrums. Layers. Depths. Heights. Balance. Intensity. Love. Acceptance. Wonder. Arms to hold and lips to kiss and skin to touch and someone to listen and someone to share silence. A place to call home. Comfort, contentment. Belonging. Trust. Safety. Food. To matter. To be felt. To be heard. Connectedness. Passion. Life. Art. Music. More. To fully breathe. More; just more.
Today, here, now: I am trying to wander the high road and am taking a break, stopping to pull out my silent soapbox, placing it under a big old oak tree. As I step on it, I think of how the acorn is the tree and the tree is the acorn — that thou art. As I stand there, I place my hand over my lesbian heart and feel it pounding hard. I’m listening to it so deeply that my ears twitch. And I wonder about lesbian hearts and what they might want in this invisible here that can’t be found on any map of any country or any solar system.