Digestion

Digestion ~ By Jillian Locke

 

Digestion happens when my stomach is in accordance with my heart, and especially when my brain decides to jump on board with the two. When a positive thought or idea crosses my mind, it sends a direct lightening bolt to my stomach who, in return, grumbles in delight and satisfaction, as if to say, “YES!!!” All systems a go, guys!

 

My heart and my stomach are so intricately tied together, and then you have my brain, which I envision as a balloon, tied to the previous two by a thin string…but that string is strong and deceptive. That string has the power to break the connection between my heart and stomach through variable puffs of smoke called doubt, paranoia, betrayal, guilt, faithlessness, disbelief. That skinny string holds the fate of my digestive system in its fibrous tail.

 

And what would happen if I could detach the string from the rest of the equation, and let only my heart and stomach reign? Hasn’t the brain been the source of all our problems anyway, too much emphasis always being put on the head instead of the strongest muscle in our body, our driving force? It’s interesting that even if the brain is damaged, the rest of the body can go on, as long as the heart is strong; but take the heart out of the equation, and that’s it. It’s Splitsville for that tiny spark that resides in the bottom of our bellies, floating up and onward, seeking its next vessel to nestle into.

 

Wouldn’t it be amazing if there was some physical switch we could flip when we sought to only be guided by our heart…to follow the true stirrings and callings of our soul? And of course, to never experience the torture of insomnia again. I guess you could call this metaphorical switch “meditation,” but then again, who takes the time to just sit with the heart and the spark, making enough space and silence to listen to what they have to say?

 

It seems there needs to be more detachment of the mind, a rest for the organ that’s so overactive that it’s actually morphed more into a zombified muscle; flexed so frequently yet in all the wrong ways. Lost in its own corridors, wandering the damaged nerve endings of trauma and wrongly-laid connections and wirings…trying desperately to communicate to a heart that has been turned off to the deepest, most base, raw, genuine stirrings of the mind…

 

What of this vessel, then? What of our existence, our work, our connection to the earth, to each other? What of our presence, our mission? What of that spark that is slowly, wretchedly suffocated, day in and day out?

 

That spark is awakened with every rumble of my belly. That spark is giving me an audible high-five every time my mind, heart and belly synch up. Because when they do, the root and sacral chakras are doing their sacred dance of rejoicing, feeling the energy flowing smoothly and uninterrupted from the crown all the way down. When communication is pure and clear, the body and mind become activated, finally joining forces and working as the well-oiled energetic beam of light that we all are when the lights go out.

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