When I was in 9th grade I was in this melodrama at my high school. I don’t remember what it was called, and I was only in the chorus. (I was an Old West showgirl. I did a dance.) The catch phrase of the play, which was repeated ad nauseum was “Our strength will be the strength of ten, if but our hearts are pure.” I spent most of my time at rehearsal flirting with the “sailors” and gossiping with the other showgirls, generally zoning out everything that was happening on the stage. But that line, repeated so constantly, must have worn a canyon into my brain and somehow co-mingled with my presonal ethics. Because it was around that time that I began to be consumed with the idea of the pure heart (or what I now refer to as Perfect Heart). I began to define and aspire to Perfect Heart. Here is my general definition:
To have a Perfect Heart you must first have a clear conscience. Guilt erodes all good intentions, so you must conduct yourself in a way that is virtuous (whatever that means to you) and confess your transgressions to those who are affected. A Perfect Heart contains an infinite quantity of forgiveness and apology. Jealousy is discarded as soon as it is discovered, and Trust is distributed perhaps too liberally, but knowingly so. Now the tricky part: a Perfect Heart remains light, even when burdened. It is not a harbour for self-pity or ill-will. It embraces and releases hurt, refusing to scar or shrink. All of the old adages fit in:
Pure Heart
Open Heart
Warm Heart
Stout Heart
Big Heart
Soft Heart
Giving Heart
Brave Heart
Strong Heart
Good Heart
Good Heart
Perfect Heart.
I think in trying hard to live up to this model I forgot that others might not be as concerned. My lover built a barricade around his heart, and let my love slide down off of it. Maybe my pursuit of Perfect Heart is futile, since I cannot influence the hearts of others. Maybe I should have stuck with softball, and avoided melodrama altogether. The fate of the ingenue is always in the hands of villians and heros.
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