Heartbreak

Nick! Nick! It’s all gone south
That thing I used to call my luck, -
I took my own burning heart
And buried it in a cold grave;

The heart is the boss, and the mind is just its errand boy.
Whatever the heart craves, the mind makes it happen.
At its core, the heart is just one thing: this raw, driving hunger to take, to grab pleasure, to soak up enjoyment.
The only real difference is the "outfit" those pleasures wear and how big they feel, which is why we trick ourselves into thinking there are different kinds of hearts.
When a heart is focused on sucking up pleasure for itself, it’s corrupt, dark, and totally selfish—it just breeds misery and leaves you feeling stuck with some cheap, fleeting high.
But when the heart shifts toward giving that joy away to others, that’s when it becomes pure, bright, and powerful; it generates real love and taps into an endless, lasting bliss. That right there is what a true human heart is supposed to be.

The heart is basically a perfect radar system—it picks up on every single one of my moods without missing a beat. It’s the only thing that doesn't lie to me 😉 . You can try to ignore it, sure, but you can't actually shut it up.

mistybison said:Spiritual teachings frequently reference the heart, typically viewing it as something that transcends the mind—a source of consciousness, our true essence, and the engine behind everything we do.

Here is what one of our Harmony members shared regarding this topic in a discussion over on the "Religion" board:

How do you define the heart? 🙂

If we move past the literal idea of the heart as just a biological pump, I’d say that for me, the heart is a temporal fold—the absolute epicenter of emotion. It's an incredibly complex neurological space that operates in such a fascinating way, utilizing both parallel and serial processing.
But here’s the catch: God is found in the neocortex. If the heart isn't properly managed, it leads to massive trouble—selfishness, violence, irrational outbursts, and hurting others. So many people glorify "following their heart," but when you actually ask them how they use it, their answers reveal nothing but pure ego, arrogance, and vanity. That might be the raw heart, sure, but it certainly isn't wisdom.

Think of the heart as our window into the spiritual realm—it’s constantly shaped by the people around us, by God, and even by our own internal shifts. But really, the most vital part of this "window" is simply keeping it open and making sure the glass stays clear, so our vision remains sharp and unobstructed.

The heart isn't found in Yoga meditation, nor in Yiva or Shiva
It isn't found in magic, nor in Kabbalah or the Upper world
It isn't Bhakti, and it certainly isn't Shakti
The heart isn't what Carlos Castaneda meant when he spoke of the "path with heart"
Nor is it that idea of "the whole world conspiring to make our deepest desires come true"
The heart isn't the heart being synthesis of 4 great systems, nor an occult revolution, nor the Age of Aquarius
The heart isn't some self-sufficient hermit brooding over bitak or the meaning of existence
It isn't that sudden rush of excitement when we feel we finally "get" someone
It isn't Baba mi Kevalam, it isn't Omkara, and it isn't IstaMantra
The heart isn't located in the East
And it doesn't undergo some mystical rebirth in the West
It isn't Cosmic Consciousness, and it isn't Eckhart's all-pervading love
The heart was my Mother, who always looked out for me
And my sweet grandmother, who told me stories at bedtime whenever I was afraid of the dark
The heart is my hardworking Father, who spent his entire life providing for me
The heart is mine, and I will pass it on to my son
Because...
You cannot truly possess the heart if you don't give it away to someone else
Tadija discovered the truth of the heart when he wrote:

When in the crimson dawns
Or in the clear mornings
I wander
Through verdant fields
Where a youthful breeze sways the heavy heads
Of high yellow grain,
Suddenly I stop;
And lo!
My heart, overflowing with joy, beats loudly
Like a golden watch.

Charles White11 said:If we didn't have hearts beating in our chests, how on earth would we express any emotion at all?
For those with a truly resilient heart, even the most overwhelming passions can be mastered;
they won't be allowed to consume them from within like some bitter, wasting disease.
Those with weaker hearts tend to get swept away by poetry—writing verses and reciting rhymes just to cope...
But the heart remains our only true sanctuary.
Without it, we wouldn't even exist.

Honestly, you're just talking nonsense. What is wrong with beautiful poems (or even ugly ones😬) born from deep thought, suffering, joy... everything else that gets stirred up through the process of searching with the heart? You're just talking crap.😬

slydriver17 said:Honestly, you're just talking nonsense. What is wrong with beautiful poems (or even ugly ones😬) born from deep thought, suffering, joy... everything else that gets stirred up through the process of searching with the heart? You're just talking crap.😬

They aren't lacking anything under God, provided they are truly heartfelt and sincere. And hey, I'll give you credit—the way you defend your stance so "heartily" proves you actually have one!
But a word of caution:
I think we very often mistake cheap emotionalism for actual "heartfeltness." For example: "I love you so much that I’ll eventually kill you just so no one else can have you," or "I'm so preoccupied with the mysticism of love that I don't have time for my own family," or "I've become my own guru and forgotten my parents," and so on.
That has absolutely nothing to do with the heart.

It always seems to come down to this: "A heart belongs to no one if there is no one to give it to."

Whether you agree with me or not, my friend.

PS. Poetry is something without which my life would be gray and unbearable; there are moments when I am overcome by an indescribable emotion, and tears start flowing for no reason at all. If that's the stance you were defending, then we're on the same wavelength. Personally, I identify that profound emotion with the Heart—it hits me so hard sometimes that I'd practically drop my pants in front of a stranger on the street for no reason. So, whenever I feel someone lamenting about "sublime feelings" without giving me any hint that they actually understand what I'm talking about, I tend to write a few angry words...

trnde rnde bla bla

When a person decides to engage life with their heart—meaning they actually step into it wide open—it most often results in what I’ve previously described as a collision. It’s a high-stakes gamble: you either emerge transformed or you get crushed by the weight of it all.😬
If you manage to remain open through the impact, you gain an experience that you can finally begin to process intellectually. When things begin from the heart, the intellect is activated. This is the natural, logical progression. You could say you are thinking with your heart while utilizing your intelligence to facilitate a "new cycle." How successfully this cooperation is established determines whether a person can move toward a meaningful direction. Yet, even that direction is essentially introspection. Everything is already present within us; we simply have to arrive at it. So, everything is exactly as it should be—even those tedious emotional outbursts disguised as sweet poetry or whining....
The second issue is that this collision often triggers a defensive closing mechanism. It's the classic "they're out to get me" or "I'll just get burned" mentality. People frequently become terrified of the consequences of being vulnerable, simply because their limited perception tells them that openness only brings hardship. But that isn't the reality. The problem is that the intellect takes total control over the system, and then we wonder why we hit such a wall. And so it goes, for an entire lifetime... trndelamrna... bla bla nonsense.😬

slydriver17 said:trnde rnde bla bla

When a person decides to engage life with their heart—meaning they actually step into it wide open—it most often results in what I’ve previously described as a collision. It’s a high-stakes gamble: you either emerge transformed or you get crushed by the weight of it all.😬
If you manage to remain open through the impact, you gain an experience that you can finally begin to process intellectually. When things begin from the heart, the intellect is activated. This is the natural, logical progression. You could say you are thinking with your heart while utilizing your intelligence to facilitate a "new cycle." How successfully this cooperation is established determines whether a person can move toward a meaningful direction. Yet, even that direction is essentially introspection. Everything is already present within us; we simply have to arrive at it. So, everything is exactly as it should be—even those tedious emotional outbursts disguised as sweet poetry or whining....
The second issue is that this collision often triggers a defensive closing mechanism. It's the classic "they're out to get me" or "I'll just get burned" mentality. People frequently become terrified of the consequences of being vulnerable, simply because their limited perception tells them that openness only brings hardship. But that isn't the reality. The problem is that the intellect takes total control over the system, and then we wonder why we hit such a wall. And so it goes, for an entire lifetime... trndelamrna... bla bla nonsense.😬

Look, everything you said stands. Life is brutal; there's no debating that. You step out with the raw honesty of a child, and you get smacked upside the head for it. You end up feeling like a lamb surrounded by "predators." If you don't learn how to swim, you're almost certainly going to sink. I'll sign my name to that.
But, strangely enough—despite all that logic and the realization that I'm bound to take a hit—I’ve come to realize that the heart isn't "awakened" by making compromises with the relentless world around us. Instead, it’s awakened by a persistent, selfless naivety that refuses to do any math. This kind of sincerity I'm talking about doesn't come cheap. You don't trade it away, my friend. I'd go as far as to say: "If it weren't for that quality, we wouldn't even exist."

I wouldn't call what you wrote "nonsense"—even if you try to mask it. I have a feeling that what you're writing here is deeply sincere.

I can see it clearly in your reaction to that cheesy bit of fluff: "The weak-hearted drift away on poetry, writing verses and reciting rhymes..."
If it makes you feel any better—it hurt me to write it, too!

The heart is just another word for thought—a synonym for that love which is actually just a synonym for what truly exists, which is us... and so on and so forth, all the way down into those deep, heavy dreams!

ambereagle642 said:The heart is just another word for thought—a synonym for that love which is actually just a synonym for what truly exists, which is us... and so on and so forth, all the way down into those deep, heavy dreams!

Fine! We’ve established that—so where does that leave us?!
Is that really all there is to say about the Heart?
I have a feeling there’s a bit more depth to uncover here....

Talking about it this way feels a lot like trying to describe my own mother using dictionary definitions; saying things like, "A mother is a female-synonym for a being that gives birth, who is a partner-synonym for a spouse..." To me, my mother is so much more than a collection of labels. When I think of her, I don't think of definitions; I remember the warmth in her eyes and the gentle tone of her voice, which held nothing but pure love. And you know what the hardest part of telling you this is? The realization that I never managed to give even a tiny fraction of that love back to her. When that thought hits me, I feel a tightness in my chest and my eyes well up with tears.

PS. I actually quite like that phrase... "down to the deepest sleep."

Charles White11 said:Look, everything you said stands. Life is brutal; there's no debating that. You step out with the raw honesty of a child, and you get smacked upside the head for it. You end up feeling like a lamb surrounded by "predators." If you don't learn how to swim, you're almost certainly going to sink. I'll sign my name to that.
But, strangely enough—despite all that logic and the realization that I'm bound to take a hit—I’ve come to realize that the heart isn't "awakened" by making compromises with the relentless world around us. Instead, it’s awakened by a persistent, selfless naivety that refuses to do any math. This kind of sincerity I'm talking about doesn't come cheap. You don't trade it away, my friend. I'd go as far as to say: "If it weren't for that quality, we wouldn't even exist."

I wouldn't call what you wrote "nonsense"—even if you try to mask it. I have a feeling that what you're writing here is deeply sincere.

I can see it clearly in your reaction to that cheesy bit of fluff: "The weak-hearted drift away on poetry, writing verses and reciting rhymes..."
If it makes you feel any better—it hurt me to write it, too!

Ampak, you're being inconsistent now... one minute this, then that.

You think there's any truth to the idea that a poet is just someone whose heart is tired, even if it never actually beat?

There’s one specific organ in the body that dictates everything. When it’s functioning right, you’re good to go. When it fails, everything else follows suit. That organ is the Heart.

neonowl93 said:There’s one specific organ in the body that dictates everything. When it’s functioning right, you’re good to go. When it fails, everything else follows suit. That organ is the Heart.

Man... maybe some... poetry? About it? 😍 😉

Charles White11 said:Fine! We’ve established that—so where does that leave us?!
Is that really all there is to say about the Heart?
I have a feeling there’s a bit more depth to uncover here....

Talking about it this way feels a lot like trying to describe my own mother using dictionary definitions; saying things like, "A mother is a female-synonym for a being that gives birth, who is a partner-synonym for a spouse..." To me, my mother is so much more than a collection of labels. When I think of her, I don't think of definitions; I remember the warmth in her eyes and the gentle tone of her voice, which held nothing but pure love. And you know what the hardest part of telling you this is? The realization that I never managed to give even a tiny fraction of that love back to her. When that thought hits me, I feel a tightness in my chest and my eyes well up with tears.

PS. I actually quite like that phrase... "down to the deepest sleep."

to me.. my ...that's exactly what the poet was getting at, haha😁

boldgull19 said:Man... maybe some... poetry? About it? 😍 😉

The heart holds two burning fires:
joy and strife.
When one boils over,
the other simply vanishes.

More?😕

Charles White11 said:The heart isn't found in Yoga meditation, nor in Yiva or Shiva
It isn't found in magic, nor in Kabbalah or the Upper world
It isn't Bhakti, and it certainly isn't Shakti
The heart isn't what Carlos Castaneda meant when he spoke of the "path with heart"
Nor is it that idea of "the whole world conspiring to make our deepest desires come true"
The heart isn't the heart being synthesis of 4 great systems, nor an occult revolution, nor the Age of Aquarius
The heart isn't some self-sufficient hermit brooding over bitak or the meaning of existence
It isn't that sudden rush of excitement when we feel we finally "get" someone
It isn't Baba mi Kevalam, it isn't Omkara, and it isn't IstaMantra
The heart isn't located in the East
And it doesn't undergo some mystical rebirth in the West
It isn't Cosmic Consciousness, and it isn't Eckhart's all-pervading love
The heart was my Mother, who always looked out for me
And my sweet grandmother, who told me stories at bedtime whenever I was afraid of the dark
The heart is my hardworking Father, who spent his entire life providing for me
The heart is mine, and I will pass it on to my son
Because...
You cannot truly possess the heart if you don't give it away to someone else
Tadija discovered the truth of the heart when he wrote:

When in the crimson dawns
Or in the clear mornings
I wander
Through verdant fields
Where a youthful breeze sways the heavy heads
Of high yellow grain,
Suddenly I stop;
And lo!
My heart, overflowing with joy, beats loudly
Like a golden watch.

Exactly! Look, kabbalah isn't the heart itself—it’s the actual tool you use to build a massive, all-encompassing heart, you know? It's about developing this deep love for the entire Creation, that feeling you only catch in those tiny, fleeting moments when everything just seems to click.

You can't claim to have a heart if you're just waiting for someone else to hand it to you.

That is the absolute truth right there.
And once you actually have that massive heart, you give it all away to Everything.
But honestly, who actually possesses that kind of heart?

boldgull19 said:Ampak, you're being inconsistent now... one minute this, then that.

You think there's any truth to the idea that a poet is just someone whose heart is tired, even if it never actually beat?

You’ve certainly given me something to chew on... I suspect that genuine poetry flows from just such a heart. A poet is defined by longing—for what are poems if they aren't an expression of a profound yearning for something lying just beyond the far shore? A heart cannot truly find its voice if it hasn't known exhaustion. We have to experience true longing first; only then will the heart shyly reveal itself. There is no alternative, and there are no shortcuts. A heart won't flutter in someone who simply settles for making compromises with the harsh realities surrounding them. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You know the old saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit..." To feel even a faint breeze drifting from that distant shore is life's greatest achievement.
This is more or less how it feels when it strikes you out of nowhere, without warning or reason;

When in the crimson dawns
Or in the clear mornings
I wander
Through lush fields
Where a young wind sways the heavy heads
Of tall, golden wheat,
Suddenly I stop;
And behold!
My heart, overflowing with joy, beats loudly
Like a golden watch.

Dragutin Tadijanović

P.S. Whenever I read this, it knocks the wind right out of me. In the old man who penned these lines, I see the outlines of a boy playing and dreaming, listening to the breeze drifting from "the other side." Oh, how I envy him—not for any fame he might have found, but for that pure heart capable of always beating as loud as a golden watch.

ambereagle642 said:to me.. my ...that's exactly what the poet was getting at, haha😁

It's mine, but whose is it really!
Someone once cried out in their final moments: "Father, Father—why have you forsaken me..."
Him, but who else could it be?
What kind of heart is it that has no one left to love?