So often I find nothing more comforting than to lie in bed at night and listen to the steady beating of my heart. My heartbeat is the most audible of those lovely, uncontrollable functions of the body. It is a constant reminder to me, as I wind down for the night, that today was survivable, and I shall soon see a fresh tomorrow.
We are frequently told to rely on our minds, for the brain is seen as the facilitator of cold, rational thought. Actually, though, the mind is an easily shaken being. It creates ridiculous scenarios of implausible magnitude, and it whirrs and runs constantly on noisy, imaginative rampages. Minds deliver little of the level-headed reasoning we are misled to expect from them, and these unfounded expectations in turn breed new armies of restless emotions.
As our minds hurriedly tap dance around, our hearts, meanwhile, continue their steady rhythms. No matter how crazed our minds may be, with worry or with delight, our hearts are internally stable. No number of half-imagined monsters can tear through and divert them from their noble, pounding missions.
The heart is much more than the ever-popular symbol of romance. It is an organ, one set enough in its job to avoid most disturbances, and one faithful enough to carry us through the days regardless of what happens along the way.
The heart is a symbol, in its own way, but not of the heady love with which it is wrongly associated. Instead, our internal, unceasing heartbeats bring a message: we are capable enough to push through our lives without injury, for we are inwardly supported enough by a powerful heart that mere circumstances cannot interrupt.