Liz Wiltzen

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I See Your Heart and Raise You a Dinosaur

When physical things meet—circumstances, objects, people—we often perceive that to be the place of ‘connection’. But connection (or lack of it) isn’t in the coming together of physical things, it’s the result of the spirit in which those things come together.

About a year and a half ago, I carted a perfectly heart-shaped rock into the forest and placed it at the base of a tree stump near the trailhead of a path I walk everyday. It was a touchstone, a symbol of a recent spiritual reconnection with my Dad who had died 30 years ago.  

For the next 8 months a ritual developed—I’d call out ‘Hey Dad!’ each time I passed, and he’d greet me back. It became an intentional altar, a little sacred space in the forest that honoured our relationship.

And then one day, the rock vanished.

What happened next sparked an unexpected series of kind-hearted gestures along with a few surprise twists from the Universe.

If you want to read parts one and two of this story, they track the full arc of wonder but the bottom line is that replacement hearts—a whole lotta them—showed up to stand in for the one that was gone. The spot where the original rock lived took on a new life and energy of it’s own, and each time I thought the story has reached its natural conclusion, more magic showed up.

Rogue Arrival

The little sacred space went dormant through the winter, but as spring woke up, so did the magic—this time in the form of something decidedly un-heart shaped.

I'm not sure I would’ve seen it had I not been in a funk one day on my forest walk. As I passed the gathering of hearts I was drawn to commune with them and bent down in front of the stump to rest my hands on it. I glanced down and was celebrating that someone had left yet another new heart, when right in front of me at (crouched) eye-level, I spotted the tiniest little dinosaur, not 2 inches long nose to tail. 

Violet horns alert and steady eyes checking me out, he peered back at me with the presence and gravitas of a full size pre-historic creature. He might have been lost in the green moss and bark had I not gotten in close, but upon seeing him it was evident he’d taken up residence, claiming his belonging here amongst the heart-shaped rocks.

Just like a heart, only different.

Perceiving things as self-contained and separate creates the illusion that the physical offering itself—a heart shaped rock or a tiny dinosaur or any expression one might feel moved to contribute to life (a piece of writing or art or music, a service, a meal, a gift, a favour...) is what’s important. That leads to thinking your expression needs to be “right enough” or “good enough”, which is a set-up for comparing, judging, second-guessing, editing and holding back.

When you trust the spirit in which you’re offering what you’re offering, it becomes clear that how it moves once it’s released into the world is not your department.

I imagine that someone could have held their dinosaur back, thinking this place was meant for heart-shaped stones only, and while I’ve loved every heart-shaped rock that’s arrived on the scene, that dinosaur delighted me in a way that only it uniquely could have. Whoever left it and why ever they did—it was badass urge following.

It’s up to you to bring your dinosaur. It’s up to life to get it where it needs to be.

Pre-Dino Magic:

Part 1: Get Your Yes Lined Up With Magic
Part 2: Get Your Yes Lined Up With Magic - What Happened Next


Tracking Yes Podcast

My podcast has 11 episodes on the airwaves!

Been diving into great conversations around topics like:

Stay tuned for upcoming posts highlighting key insights, tips and tools from each episode.

You can can listen to all episodes directly on my website, or click the “Listen on your favourite player” button on the podcast page to listen in your preferred player.