Take this poison and give me love. On asking the Ganges River to heal my heart in Rishikesh, India.

The river Ganga felt cold as it swirled around my feet. The chanting and singing surrounding me filled me with vibrations. The brown water roared underneath Lord Shiva where he sat on a throne of gray stone. The sun outlined dark clouds with a rim of brilliant orange as it lowered itself into the horizon. The mountains to the north reared their heads above the river, enormous and impressive with their presence. I sat on an outcropping of stone, fashioned into a hexagon ten feet out in the river, connected to the rest of the temple by a narrow path. All around me people, mostly Indian but with a few Westerners, their pale white skin standing out amongst the various browns of the local people, chanted and sang, some clapping along to the music at whatever rhythm they preferred. Teenage boys dressed in yellow robes and red scarves played various instruments while one sang into a microphone. I closed my eyes and everyone vanished. I felt the water lap against the soles of my feet and I asked the river to help me achieve the goal that had brought me back here, to the Aarti ceremony, to Rishikesh, to India. I asked the river Ganga, among the holiest bodies of water in the world, to open my heart. I asked the river to take away the poisons which were eating away at my most vulnerable organ. I asked the cold water licking at my feet, and the cold water to which I offered blessed flowers, to heal me.

            I pictured my heart, filled with the toxins of fear, pain, and anger, and prayed for the vast, timeless river to take them. I began with fear, for it is fear of pain which dominates so many of us and prevents us from living the life we want. I scraped the black paste of fear from the caverns in my heart. I shook each scoop into one of the delicate leaf bowls which all offerings are made in. I dug deeper into the space and tried to remove every spot of fetid, sticky, gooey fear, filling the bowl with the black mess. This fear had been oozing from my heart as soon as I got what I wanted back, for only then did I have something again to lose. This fear had seeped into my heart with every moment of anxiety and worry, with the helplessness and terror that came with relinquishing control. Each time I thought about the pain I might experience in the future, the black paste thickened within my heart. Each time I considered the worst that could happen, the fear further blocked the pathways. I tried to imagine the most scary events which could happen to me, in love, and as each drop appeared I scraped it up and tapped it against the side of the bowl.

            Next, I knew I had to remove the pain which had drowned my heart this year. I squeezed my heart in my whole hand, and like a sponge it released a thin, brilliant red liquid. The liquid poured into the bowl and sat on top of the black fear. I tried to feel all of the pain, considering each bout of hysterical crying, every moment from each morning when I woke up and remembered what had happened, and each minute sleep evaded me at night when the pain would burn me so I couldn't sleep. I squished my heart and the ruby poison appeared all over my heart. I wrung my heart out like a towel, ripping it opposite ways with both my arms, and the blood red pain filled the bowl beneath it. I remembered the first days of the pain, when it sat in my body and prevented it from eating, or sleeping and all it did was trigger endless tears with its acidity. The toxic pain kept me weak, and appeared unasked for at any moment of the day or night. Sometimes it filled my heart so thoroughly I was afraid it would stop beating altogether, for how could it continue when it was steeped in so much agony. I let my heart refill itself over and over and kept squishing all of it out until I couldn't force out another drop.

            Finally, there was anger. Green crystals of it had formed around and inside my heart. They flared up often these days, anytime the pain or fear flowed over them, burning with a toxic heat which singed the soft inside of my heart. The crystals grew like stalactites and stalagmites, getting longer and longer until they created bars across the canals within me. They broke off into pieces sometimes, and sharp fragments of the dangerous material stabbed the flesh of my heart as they careened chaotically throughout it. The anger formed arrowheads which were poised, eager to assail anyone or anything which tried to enter. Upon piercing a victim, they grew inside them, poisoning the courageous soul which braved their wrath. Anger was the weapon, the arsenal stocked and fueled by pain and fear. I turned my heart upside down and pieces of the green poison fell into the bowl. I poked and prodded the crystals, breaking them off the walls of my heart, splintering the bars which extended throughout the pathways. They plopped into the black and red substance with a menacing hiss. I gave a final shake and slivers of anger, drops of pain and blobs of fear dropped into the bowl, green, red and black simmering in a lethal mixture.

            The concoction emanated heat, and the stinking odor made me wince. The substance turned a grotesque shade of brown, brewing and stewing with its own toxicity. I flung the bowl into the Ganges. It floated for a moment on the surface of the water, taunting me and threatening to survive. But the holy river kept its promise, to answer whatever wish was asked of it in prayer. The bowl was pulled under by the current, and I watched as the bits of angry green began to sink, as the sinister red pain was dispersed by the water, and as the thick black gunk of fear dissolved into this holiest of natures temples. The substances which had caused me so much negatvity and nearly consumed my faith, were no match for the mighty Ganga. They were but a sip for the eons of spiritual goodness which flowed in that water. The river flowed, my fear, pain and anger dispersed into powerlessness and were carried endlessly away from me by the current. The river hiccuped an orange marigold flower at my feet, a token from some devotee further upstream, a gift of reassurance from the spirits.

            I dipped my heart into the river and the cold water cleansed it, scrubbing and rinsing any remaining bits of poison. I asked the river to open my heart and the water refreshed it, renewed it, removing the crust of toxins which had accumulated inside it. The pathways were open and clean, the flesh soft and fresh. The holy water which had cleansed thousands of souls over thousands of years extended its power to me, to help me, to heal me. My heart was open again, saved from being deformed by the poisons of fear, pain and anger. All was forgiven, the past whisked away by the current, the future filling it with each new drop which passed through. I bowed my head and held my hands together in prayer as hot salty tears erupted in my eyes and streamed down my face. My own tears of gratefullness did the final soaking of my heart, dissolving any last particles of dangerous emotions. "But they will come back" a voice argued in my head, "then I will cleanse myself again" my hearts voice responded, stronger and more present than I had heard it in months. I would never again let them build up to be such a powerful force, I would be sure to rinse them out regularly.

            And now there was one final act remaining. To fill my newly opened heart with love. I dipped my heart again in the holy water of the Ganges, and asked it to fill me with love. Being simply open was not enough, for open but empty was nearly as bad as filled with poison. The cold water revealed its warmth, its depth, its endless supply of the most sought after energy in the world. The love which filled my heart, seeking out each opening and filling in each crack, was the same love which inhabited all the energy of this universe. It is eternal, boundless, all encompassing love which connects every object in this and every realm. And I filled my heart with it, thanks to the love poured into the river by devoted believers all around this planet. I let that love in until my heart couldn't hold even one more drop. And I scooped it up, and placed it back inside me, where it felt heavy but comforting, new but familiar, chilly at first, but soon acclimating to my body until I could no longer tell it apart from my own blood. I thanked the river with another offering of marigold and purple flowers, a leaf bowl this time filled with positivity, and watched as the Ganga accepted this as well, spilling the petals onto its surface and carrying them along in its ceaseless flow.