the shape of our heart's
Joy is not meant to be a crumb.
I’m not 100% sure where I first read this nugget of wisdom—somewhere in the scroll of Substack or Instagram, this gem appeared and has stayed with me ever since. Our joy is not meant to be a crumb. And yet, how much of our joy is…
Joy is not meant to be a crumb, and neither is our grief. In truth, the two feel like partners, two sides of our heart, holding joy, bliss, beauty, alongside grief, sorrow, and the many shapes that love takes.
Can we find a way to hold it all?
Without minimizing any part of it?
And can we find a way to let our hearts take shape, adapt, transform, stretch, and strengthen with the loaves of our experience—with all the learning and loss, with all the remembering and gain? Can we allow ourselves to be shaped by what is alive within our very center, and let that shape continue to change, allowing ourselves to continue to change?
I’m sitting with this—and moving through the world with it, too. This new vision of what I’ve allowed to become crumbs, and this curiosity about what it means to meet my heart in whatever shape it’s in.
What is the new shape of our hearts? Especially as we greet this here and now, these many moments we’re in. There’s crisis on overload—from climate to colonization, from planet to politics—so much uncertainty, not just in the air but woven into the very gravity of our lives. There’s a weight to the world and what it means to be part of it. I do not want that weight to crush and crumble us to pieces. Instead, I hope it wakes us up—to what it means to be whole and to recognize our contribution to that wholeness (and peace). The more we come home to our heart’s center, the more space we give to grieve, to breathe into all the emotions and energy alive in our chest and cells, the more we will be able to hold. And with that, perhaps we’ll finally be able to let go.
I’ve been meeting the new shape of my heart. It has changed so much this past year alone—from witnessing genocide, my cries and others’ for ceasefire going unanswered, to the dramatic changes in my work and the trust I’ve placed in that unknown path. And then there’s Anahata, our newly rescued pup, who’s been with us for the past seven weeks. Her presence has shifted our family dynamics, her heart intertwining with ours. And so many other moments, micro and subtle to macro and substantial—the world impacts me, and I also have to remember I impact it. Which is why staying connected to our heart’s wisdom is always, always, always essential. Yet I witness, time and time again, the distance, the avoidance, the neglect that can turn our wholeness into crumbs, limiting us from our truest and most compassionate potential.
So how can we come home to our hearts today?
And let them take up more space than a crumb?
The heart fascinates me. Fun fact: our Anahata girl is named after the energetic heart, the 4th chakra—Anahata. Ever since she entered our home and hearts, my heart has shifted in so many ways. The heart is the very center of who we are as divine beings having a human experience, and as humans trying to remember and return to our divinity. Right there, in the middle of it all, is our heart, our pulse, our breath, our life. Yet it’s all too common and normalized to ignore it, to forget it’s even there. Truly—when was the last time you paid attention to your heart space, more than just a crumb?
Everything that happens in our hearts happens elsewhere in the body—from head to heels, from sensations to symptoms. If the heart is unwell, un-wellness will emerge in other places, embodying the fundamental truth: all impacts all. There is absolutely no separation. Not a single part of who we are is isolated from another or static in its shape. We are constantly impacted by everything. And I’ve needed to remember over and over again how my heart impacts all too—like we each hold, within the very center of our chest, a sacred superpower. If harnessed correctly, it could be the elixir, the salve, for all the sorrow we face. It could be the empathy we need in moments of judgment and violence. It could be the very breadcrumb trail that leads us home—happy, healthy, and free.
But first, we have to meet the shape of our heart here and now. Allow it to breathe. Let it take up space. Let it rest in your awareness just a little longer.
And when you feel the pull to leave that portal of your heart’s guidance, remember—it is not meant to be a crumb. Enjoy the entire loaf. Don’t forget all the components, ingredients, and effort that went into making it what it is. I believe that the chaos we’re experiencing on such a grand scale could shift, dissolve, and fade if we all began to normalize, celebrate, and invite ourselves and each other into the shape of our hearts more and more often.
As I continue to meet and move through this day, I’m paying attention to what’s becoming crumbs and what is remaining whole. If it doesn’t nourish me on both a spiritual and human level, I will allow it to be crumbs. But if it does feed me, if it inspires me, if it holds value to me, I’ll give it more space. I wonder if you’d be open to joining me in this?
Paying attention to what captures our attention.
And honoring all that my heart, and your heart, needs, knows, and holds.
Sacred shape-shifters, I believe in us, and I believe in you.
We must let this change us—all that we are experiencing.
And we must let the heart change, too, so it can better serve and support the changes in you.
