Every morning before work, I walked past the concrete bridge, hurrying off to greet the day, wrapped up in my own sort of relentless busy.
There was a point in time where I wasn’t finding as many hearts and I wondered what would happen if I stopped finding them one day and the thought made me nervous to say the least, because I love how the Universe uses them to play with me.
One morning while making my way to work, I nearly fell flat on my butt and I stopped and took a deep breath while watching the cold air make steamy work of my warm breath. Sighing in and out slowly, I thought to myself, “This rushing stuff HAS to stop,” because I had been waiting until the very last minute to drag myself out into the world when the Toronto area was in the grips of one of its many extreme cold alerts this Winter.
Once I regained solid footing and stood a little taller, breathing deeper, I took in the landscape around me. It wasn’t the first time I was “seeing” the street I always walked down, but it was among the small handful that I’d arrived at it with deliberate intentions in the morning before work.
While slowing down and taking in the graffiti on the concrete walls of the bridge, I noticed this heart:
It was the perfect highlight and remembrance that the hearts would always be there.
The difference is whether or not I’m aware and awake enough to receive their presence.
There’s no need for fear and there’s no room for anxiety, either because the difference is entirely within me.
Maybe that’s what the hearts are there to remind me and others of in the end, anyway.