more thoughts on bread...
Hulling My Heart...Making Room for a Dream
Today in an early morning dream I was addressed by a voice. It asked, "What are you doing?" and I answered, "I am hulling my heart."
The voice asked, "Why?" and I answered, "I have need of a hulled heart."
I awoke, as I have so often this year, knowing that in my sleep I was at work on my life, convinced that if I dug in its soil long enough, deep enough, it would yield me a liberating truth. Is that truth in the metaphor 'hulled heart'?
I think only of pulling off the green leaves of strawberries that the fruit may be eaten. But hulling means more than that. We strip corn and peas of husks and pods to reach the inner fruit. What are the hard, protective casings around my heart that must be stripped away to reach the hidden grain? What must I give up to lie all bare and exposed like peas in a pod or corn on a cob? What are the wrappings that keep the essence of my life from becoming bread for the world?