continuation of an old metaphor

It's been over a year since I plunged into the gorge with her. It was the first time that another person had put their hand in mine. As best as we were able to discern through the early morning haze, we had tried our best to estimate the height of the cliff and the depth of the water. I had nothing to lose. It was a no brainer. But she was a genuine daredevil, putting her trust into a boy that had never yet learned to swim.

And though I cannot speak on her behalf, I seem to remember that when we leapt from our misty vantage, the gravity was like the moon, as soft as I had ever felt in my entire life. I think we were still suspended midair for at least a couple of days before we actually touched the water. For me, it finally happened inside of a noisy, crowded room, where we had disbanded from the greater assembly of people to enjoy each other's company. The water was warm and shallow. My feet were planted comfortably on the ground.

Since that beginning, there have been several unexpected bends. Although it is impossible to see exactly what lies beyond each narrow twist, there has not yet been sufficient evidence of danger that would call for abandoning our river. The increasing depth of water still does not give me reason to fear. Not only is my companion an expert swimmer, but I sense a greater presence of safety and security.

Across what borders and into what foreign territories will this river pass through? Will it be that we come to a giant waterfall and lose sight of each other in the cold white churning? Or will it be that we will reach the ocean together? And then will that be the end? Or is it merely another stage before something greater, when all of us will be delivered from the water and the ground beneath, pulled suddenly yet gently by our teeth and skin, completely stripped down to see each other in our eternal bodies?

It is easy to get lost in a metaphor. To be honest, as wonderful as this year of navigating the river has been, it--like all things--can become normal and routine. But I do not mean to play down this experience, by any means. I have realized that I am much better with a companion than on my own.

And yet this final metaphor of our life still escapes my understanding. I put this question to you. Where is the heart? Is it beating there in a designated space beneath our chests as something we can physically see and touch? The same goes with the mind. Is that too just another organ, similar to be found in a dog or a gorilla, something that sends electrical signals to the furthest nerves in our furthest limbs? I believe that this body of flesh and blood is merely a training suit. It parallels something else. We are animals, true. But to see one another as nothing more must be near blindness. Haven't we been given glimpses of something greater?

Above all, guard your heart. Be patient and wise when you give it to someone else. But do not be callous.