The Beat of My Heart

I feel sometimes, as though there is a creature within, one that desires to break free, like something caged almost, but I can’t seem to identify what it is that is the bars on my window. An idea, or a thought, something of my perception of it, maybe. It is a mixture of genius and sadness, hurt, and the unquenchable joy of the feel of the light coming through from the other side, beckoning me, calling me, giving me hope, that there is a other side.

I began my journey a very long time ago, and here I find myself today, a human being, living a human life, a very human life. I know joys and sorrows, I’ve lived through births and deaths, I’ve watched the trees grow from seedlings to towering over me, I’ve felt the wind blowing, warm in the summer, bitter in the winter. I’ve stood atop waterfalls, climbed up trees, I’ve run through fields, felt the touch of dew on my hands, and upon the soles of my feet, stood beneath the stars, I’ve tasted berries, and have eaten apples just picked from a tree. I’ve been through wars, and the comings and goings of kings. I’ve seen revolutions, I’ve seen the horrors of darkness, I’ve walked beside people who this world is not worthy of, felt the touch of those whom within God himself has made his temple, I’ve heard the songs of the saints singing, and the laments of the mourning. I’ve felt the touch of the veterans of a world at war, I’ve spoken with men a century old. This is life. I’ve carried the flame, and held the sword. I’ve worn the garments of war, and of peace. I’ve walked between the bamboo paths, I’ve stood before buildings burning, I’ve seen love lost, and death take those beloved. I’ve grieved without tears, and have screamed without sound, I’ve laughed until I could not breathe, I’ve smiled until it hurt to do so. I’ve felt as though Heaven had given me wings, and if I wished, I could fly. I’ve drunk the droughts of despair, falling so far, to fall farther still. I’ve known the call of death crying, felt it. I’ve been surprised by joy, tried by fire, and overcome by beauty. I’ve danced with friends and foes alike, I’ve sang the songs of stars, I’ve written the words, and have named creation. I have lived, I’ve loved, I’ve laughed. I am a human being. This is what I face. This is what I am.

I was first given the name of Wild Man, then called the Grace of God. I came forth as I’ve ever walked, with vigor, with passion, though never fully with purpose. I feel like I’ve been wandering, for so long now. Never sure where it is I am to go. What I am to do. I am a lonely wanderer, a pilgrim passing through. But, I desire purpose, and a vision, I desire to hold to a dream, and dream a dream of which to hold.

Never have the bars looked less restraining, yet never have they been so noticed. I feel as though I’m a horse, born to run, wild and free, but tied up somewhere, half-forgotten. This is the tragedy of humanity, born to run, we remain bound. This is the tragedy of me. With every heartbeat, I feel the call, the call to run, with every heartbeat, I am alive, with every heartbeat, there is a call, a call to be something more. The call within my beating heart, it cannot be ignored.

To remain, would be to lose, to fall, to die, to remain is to stand still. I hear the call, calling, calling, I hear the beat of my heart, beating, beating. I feel it, I know it, I am driven by it. I am alive.

I feel as though I’m experiencing the lifting of an enchantment, or am enchanted by one greater still, as though having once walked in darkness, my eyes are learning to see light, and beauty, and truth.

But why? What is it that is bringing these things upon me, who is lifting the enchantments that so beset my soul? Why do I feel as though I am waking up after a very long slumber, and with tender whispers to my soul, not shouts, I awaken, I arise. But why? What is it that awakens me, gently? What is stirring within me, changing me? How is this to be?

This is the journey I am upon, this is how I am to be. This is the story, the story that’s told.

They named me Wild Man. I desire to forsake my first name, to be a man of peace, of purpose, and someone who is gracious, patient, and kind towards others, not a man who is wild, but a man who is calm. My names tell my story, first a man wild, then a man called the Grace of God. That is my story, and my name.

What other names will be added to me in the passing of time? What will be written upon the stone, the stone that bears my name, my story? Will I be known as someone gentle and kind, gracious, and loving? Or will it bear the name of a scoundrel, self-centered, and with a heart as hard as the stone upon which the name should lie?

My desire is that my name will not be that of the second, but of the first. To be born wild, but to die in peace. To be born with the name Wild Man, but to die bearing the name Man of Peace.

It is the story of a miracle, of life given, then given again. It is to know that though I die, I live, and that Heaven is my home.

With the beat of my beating heart, I live. I know that while I still yet dwell within this house, this flesh, I am held back, I have hope, and I will live free, to run as one who was born to run, to live as I was meant to live. Though with every beat, my beating heart, beats one beat closer to its last upon this earth, I have hope, and I find hope, even in the beating of my heart, reminding me, this is not my home.

But, I ask myself, what happened to the boy? Where is the one who would have liked nothing better than to pursue another adventure? I have to ask myself when did the unimportant little things that are not worth my time, and concern, become so important that I won’t pursue the greater things, I won’t chase dreams and seek adventures. I once was one to live, to love, to walk, and though it sometimes meant facing pain, when did I cease to take risk? How did I come here? I don’t exactly know, sometimes I feel as if I’ve forgotten something, or have missed years of my life, and who knows where it went and what happened then.

Admittedly, asking myself where I’ve missed it is a start, but it’s not nearly as important as asking myself the following question: Where do I go from here? The past, for good or ill, has already taken place, and there is nothing to be done to change that. The future, however, has not yet happened, and the path ahead is where all possibilities dwell.

My heart beats, it is a call, a drum, a drum that calls me, tells me, it ask me the question: What am I going to do? The single greatest thing I can do wrongly is to continue to believe the lie that there is safety in standing still. There is no safety in standing still, and to do so is to fail, even to fail at life itself. I have to move, to forsake the madness of stagnancy. To take risk, to leap, to walk forward, with both purpose, and with confidence.

If facts must be taken into consideration, consider this, I am a citizen of Heaven, a child of another realm, I dwell in this world, but this world is not my home. I have been given incredible gifts, and while my gifts and talents are a part of that, I’ve been given greater gifts still, I’ve been given freedom: From sin, from death’s power, and from condemnation. In a sense, you can say I’ve been given innocence. Furthermore, my pilgrimage through this world is not without purpose, I am here to help those around me who are in need. I am a messenger of a greater kingdom, and the child of a greater king. These are the facts, this is the truth of my standing. So, I must tell myself: If facts have any weight at all, then consider the mission you are on. Remember who it is that you are.

My heart beats. I am alive. I am alive. I live. Why do I live? It isn’t to stand, cowering, in fear. It isn’t to remain ineffective. It isn’t to do nothing. My heart beats. I live. Sometimes death must be faced, yes, but is not remaining stagenet something like a death in itself? The dead cannot have a great impact upon the world around them, but, must lie still. My heart beats, I am alive. I ought to live as one who lives, not as though I am one who is dead.

I need to run, to move, to say to the lifestyle of stagnancy enough, run! To say: Run to know you are alive. Run to live, and remember. Remember why it is that you need to run, keep running, and never stop. A race is not won by standing still.

As for the bars, they have been dealt with, my perception of the truth of my being free, may at times be off, but it is but a false perception, having nothing to do with what is true, or real.

My heart beats, I live. Remember that and run.

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