The Imagining Heart

"The images that we carry about in our reverie, in our dreams, in our deepest waking hearts become vividly real to the aware, awake heart."   --J. Hillman, author of the Force of Character

Reading the book, The Force of Character by James Hillman carefully, one stumbles upon many great and grand insights. It may take a few reads to grasp its themes. "Character used to be spoken of in terms of 'the heart of courage,' or the 'heart of generosity and loyalty.' " It is this heart which Hillman wants to address. He says this is also the heart that consoles the weary, that cooks a meal and shares its comforts with others, and delights in laughter.
But there is a second heart, he says, that is even more familiar. It is the romantic heart of flowers and sweets; we 'give our heart away,'  'we are broken-hearted.'

And  Hillman writes of still another, a third heart. This heart is the one observed and practiced by early "great Christian writers, especially  Saint Augustine." This third heart is the one of inmost feeling, of true character. It is the me-mine, the closet of intimacy, an inward dwelling place." Because this heart is so deep and so private, "Augustine often refers to it as an abyss." Writers over time have elaborated upon this heart, calling it also 'the sacred heart.'
Many practice devotions to realize and awaken this deepest heart. "The Sacred Heart is the heart of compassionate mysticism; it sets out a discipline of love parallel with the path" of Bhakti yoga, a part of Hindu tradition; it sets its path likewise with Jewish mystic tradition, the Kabbalah, Binah a mothering, discriminating intelligence-heart, leading one into an expanding character with regard to charity, compassion and mercy.

The "oldest heart of all, is the Egyptian Ptah, who created the world from the imagination of his heart! While the more recent Christian bible dares to state that the world was created by the Logos, the word which was with God, Ptah states "the same idea, except that for ancient Egypt, the words start out from the heart and express its imaginative power. The world was first imagined, then declared."
Imagination, the 'ability to see things as images, is an ability of the heart, according to Arabic philosopher, Ibn Arabi."
The images that we carry about in our reverie, in our dreams, in our deepest waking hearts become vividly real to the aware, awake heart. "Otherwise we assume them to be inventions, projections, and fantasies," Hillman writes.

This "imagining heart converts such indefinables as soul, depth, dignity, love and beauty-- as well as character and the idea of 'heart' itself into felt actualities, the very essence of life." Without it we only have a bio-mechanical pump to keep us going. And many of us do, when the occasion warrants, write to others, "I love you with all my heart."

Mature Innocence in Love*

"Innocence is a mystery greater than evil." James Hillman

Innocence in the soul suggests a state in which one exists unwounded by the everyday challenges and trials of the world. Recovering innocence is to refrain from self-cruelty, or the equally prevalent cruelty inflicted upon others, to work and live in such a way as to gain in the strength needed to live a creative life. Spirit moves in innocence.

Innocence in adult life amounts to a renewal, a return to the essential elements necessary to the life of a Creator. It is more than unknowing; in this sense, innocence is not the least opposed to sophistication, to its opposite, a childlike state of openness that finds itself needed in a maturity which is an agile, and graceful continuity. If this is not in evidence, then the perceived maturity is not. Rather, it is simply a form of avoidance  without inherent value. Innocence is the vital element of all forms of play. Experience is key as the buddha taught. Children learn largely by experience.

Innocence is an often overlooked element of deep forgiveness as part of the restorative quality in the soul. Lifes' injuries are nearly unavoidable. However in deep forgiveness, over time, the wounds may be exchanged for the delights and joys of innocence discovered in shared experiences. Maturity need not mark or weigh us down with its cares or disappointments.

Another fertile area of life in which innocence makes its appearance is in love. In mythic terms, love and marriage are markedly different experiences for men and women. The god Eros gains in stature, in strength upon his marriage;  in doing so writes Robert Johnson in his book, She "each woman in marriage must terminate her innocence and childlike naivety," a difficult, but essential experience for the mature feminine psyche. In the evolving process of maturity, a woman while not directly corresponding to her mate, influences and spurs his own development.

At different points in their parallel lives** together, woman who most often bears the light in a man's life, finds that she has nothing to give to him--he simply just isn't looking, or able to look into the light she presents to him. While tangled with him, she may fear as a consequence, what she has then to lose. "There is something in the unconscious of a man that wishes to make an agreement" that she will not look too closely or too carefully at him; yet in maturity she does look, and she must. Like the biblical garden of Eden, the pair in love find one another in innocence; their love experience is powerful. And it must be so to propel them into the experiences that comprise their shared lives. Yet as time unfolds, disappointment and disillusionment inevitably arise.

Paradoxically it is only in forgiveness, in innocence, that the otherwise harsh judgements of one towards the other may be set aside for a return to the Beloved, to the innocence of the earlier garden of Eden, a paradise she may have feared lost.

* A reprint of a reader favorite article that appeared here on July 6, 2009

**a figure of speech.

Found in Innocence

This article appeared here previously on July 2, 2009

"Innocence is a mystery greater than evil." James Hillman

Innocence in the soul suggests a state in which one exists unwounded by the every day challenges and trials of the world. Recovering innocence is to refrain from self cruelty or the equally prevalent cruelty inflicted upon others, to work and live in such a way as to gain in the strength needed to live a creative life. Spirit moves in innocence.

Innocence in adult life amounts to a renewal, a return to the essential elements necessary to the life of a Creator. It is more than unknowing; in this sense, innocence is not the least opposed to sophistication, or to its opposite, a childlike state of openness that finds itself needed in a maturity which is agile, and graceful continuity. If this is not in evidence, then the perceived maturity is not. Rather, it is simply a form of avoidance of without inherent value. Innocence is the vital element of all forms of play. Experience is key as the buddha taught. Children learn largely by experience.

Innocence is an often overlooked element of deep forgiveness as part of the restorative quality in the soul. Life's injuries are nearly unavoidable. However in deep forgiveness, over time, the wounds may be exchanged for the delights and joys of innocence discovered in shared experiences. Maturity need not mark or weigh us down with its cares or disappointments.

Another fertile area of life in which innocence makes its appearance is in love. In mythic terms, love and marriage are markedly different experiences for men and women. The god Eros gains in stature, in strength upon his marriage; yet in doing so writes Robert Johnson in his book She, "each woman in marriage must terminate her innocence and childlike naivety," a difficult, but essential experience for the mature feminine psyche. In the evolving process of maturity, a woman while not directly corresponding to her mate, influences and spurs his own development.

At different points in their parallel lives together, woman who most often bears the light in a man's life, finds that she has nothing to give to him--he simply just isn't looking, or able to look into the light she presents to him. While tangled with him, she may fear as a consequence, what she has then to lose. "There is something in the unconscious of a man that wishes to make an agreement" that she will not look too closely or too carefully at him; yet in maturity she does, and she must. Like the biblical garden of Eden, the pair in love find one another in innocence; their love experience is powerful. And it must be so to propel them into the experiences that comprise their shared lives. Yet as time unfolds, disappointment and disillusionment inevitably arise.

Ultimately it is only in forgiveness, in innocence, that the otherwise harsh judgements of one towards the other may be set aside for a return to the Beloved, to the innocence of the earlier garden of Eden, a paradise she may have feared lost.