My Bleeding Heart Is Aching

January 31, 2017

My thoughts have been churning around in my head for days. It’s hard to do or think about anything else. My bleeding heart is aching.

I physically feel my heart hurting. Hawthorn is my best friend these days.

And, I just don’t understand.

Shouldn’t we all care about our neighbors? Including those outside our borders and beyond?

Shouldn’t we all care about everyone in this country having healthcare?

Shouldn’t we just care?

Shouldn’t we all want a healthy clean planet? Don’t we all need clean water?

Mni Wiconi! Water is Life!

I’ve chanted this for the people at Standing Rock so many times it feels like my new mantra.

Shouldn’t we all be supporting Native Americans who have forever been taken advantage of in this country?

Shouldn’t we all care about the young black men languishing in prisons, not privy to the rights most of us have?

I know the grandmother of one of these young men.

And my bleeding heart weeps for them.

When I took the photo above I was standing on the subway platform on my way to the Women’s March in NYC. Those three words pretty much sum it up for me.

Compassion for ALL.

Not just for me. Not just for my family. Or my extended family. Or my friends and neighbors.

Compassion for ALL.

Lucky for me, the people I surround myself with on a daily basis share this belief. Many of them are fellow artists and healers. With open hearts and open minds.

Bleeding hearts.

The Urban Dictionary lists these three definitions for the term bleeding heart:

  1. A person who is excessively sympathetic to the plight of a person or group of people
  2. An emotionally concerned person
  3. A slang term for people involved in creative fields of work. Somewhat derogatory because it makes fun of the state of seemingly permanent melancholy artists reside in.

This is a bad thing?

My social media pages are filled with bleeding heart friends. Especially my private Facebook page where I interact the most. I’ve never had to unfriend anyone. That’s kind of a miracle nowadays.

Lots of these friends are needing to withdraw. They’re empaths, and the energy of this movement is just too much for them to bear. I know how this feels and have to be aware of my own limits.

And there are those who believe this new president was necessary to birth this movement.

Of bleeding hearts.

They didn’t vote for him, but they see the bigger picture in terms of needing the dark to bring in the light.

Couldn’t it have happened an easier way? Perhaps not.

But there are people in my life who did vote for the new president. Family.

I still haven’t been able to have the conversation.

It’s still too raw.

Because I  just don’t understand.

How a man who seems to be devoid of compassion ended up in the White House.

A man who mocked a disabled person, denigrates women, minorities, religious groups, and wants to build a wall around our diverse country.

How did your conscience vote for this man? I want to ask this question.

You wanted change? So did I. Our government is broken.


I wanted it in the form of Bernie Sanders (a fellow bleeding heart).

Compassion for ALL.

In under two weeks, I’ve attended four rallies in NYC. The first one was on the eve of the inauguration and drew a crowd of about 25,000 people. It was hastily put together. It was peaceful. If I were to sum up the message, it would be “We’ll have each other’s backs.” “I’ll be there for you and you’ll be there for me.”

One sign read “I’m not a sore loser. I’m a concerned citizen.”

Then came the Women’s March in NYC with the latest estimate I’ve heard of 400,000 women, men, and children. Again. Peaceful. A beautiful sight to behold.

Compassion for ALL.

And then an impromptu march against Trump’s executive order to bring the Keystone XL and Dakota Access pipelines back to life. It was at night. It was cold and raining. Again, it was peaceful.

“You can’t drink oil.”

And last night, a local rally in support of immigration.

I’m an introvert. I don’t like crowds. I revel in my solitude and my body is happiest when I honor that.

Evidently, I’m not alone.

So Bad Even Introverts Are Here, Women's March NYC

But, I just can’t sit at home and not add my voice to the multitudes of people around the WORLD who are saying “ENOUGH!”

Love one another.

We are one.

Stop living in fear.

Love Trumps Hate.

Hope Trumps Fear.

So, let your bleeding heart flag fly. Proud and true.

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope. – Maya Angelou

Much love,


  1. Beautifully put . . . Women like you will change the world!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *