Here I am, again, my heart all bound up in some petty dispute. For the millionth time, I see, and feel, tightness, closed-up-ness: this old heart trying to protect itself. It takes so much effort. It feels like I’m shoving an old bureau in front of its door. 

But seeing is understanding. Only when I summon the courage to see that the door is closed, the mouth is set, the eyes are no longer soft or loving – only then can I let go. So, in a way, seeing is not only understanding. Seeing is also healing.