The Heart and Mind: To Open or Not to Open? : Meditations on Love Part (4/n)

Disclaimer: I am going to write about two of the very central philosophies and principles of my life which I have crafted for myself due to various experiences that I have had. No, I won't be giving the anecdotes of those experiences.

It has been long since I last posted on here. I had been caught up with a plethora of work- best summed up by Sidhi's question whenever we meet "Oh, is there already a new tab open in your brain now?".

Sorry, my dear 4 readers hahahaha. Here goes another blog which I wrote just today while a dozen half-written ones wait in my drafts.

This one (as mentioned previously) is extremely personal. Why am I posting it?

Well, the answer is here if you want to read up on that. If not-

Let's beginnnnnn!

Me, being the person that I am, I keep speaking about these principles and philosophies of mine, for I like to think of them as if they were superpowers- and I don't want to hoard it for myself, the more people that know about this, the better. Why, you ask? Well, they shall have one more option which they can consider and choose if there's ever a need for it.

Let's get into the naïve one first. Yes, we shall be talking about the heart first. The metaphorical heart, not the physical one (let's leave that for the doctors). Also, I have started exercising regularly to take care of my heart.

Part 1: The Metaphorical Heart

I'd like to think of heart as an ocean of love. Do you ever see boundaries on an ocean? It’s boundless. It can’t be contained, yet it contains all. You can take as much water as you want from the ocean, but it remains unchanged—vast, full, and steady.

That’s how I feel about love. Every person who comes into my life, who becomes close to me, I leave my heart open for them. I don’t decide how much to give or how much to hold back. It’s up to them—how much they want to take, how much they need. Some people come into your life for just a season, or maybe a reason, and then they leave. I don’t hold anything against them (well, I try not to and have been successful a lot of times yet I’m human, after all). Instead, I look at it this way: they came into my life for however long, and during that time, they gave me something, even if it’s just a lesson.

I see myself as someone who has only one thing to offer—love. I might not be able to give much else, but love? That, I can give freely. So, I don’t shy away from it. I keep my heart open, unguarded. Some people come and take just a cup of water from my ocean and they’re happy with that. Others might come and take more, maybe a pool, maybe even a river’s worth. And when their vessel is full, they leave. Do I resent them for leaving? No. The ocean doesn’t lash out when water is taken from it, because it knows that someday, it will rain, and all the water will be replenished. I try to see myself the same way. Just because someone took love from me and left doesn’t mean I’ve lost anything. It will rain again. Love will come back. And I don’t need to lash out or feel angry when someone leaves, because, like the ocean, I’m still full.

Sure, there are times when it’s harder to let go, when it stings more than I’d like to admit. But for the most part, I try to remind myself that love is meant to flow. People come, they take what they need, and they move on. And that’s okay. I just need to keep being who I am and trust that love will always find its way back to me.

Part 2: The Very Real Mind

As lenient as I am with my heart, I am just as strict when it comes to my mind and mental health. I guard it fiercely. There are two principles I follow when it comes to protecting my mental space, and they’ve become almost non-negotiable in my life.

[Part 2.1:] The first is this: I don’t let things get to me easily. I like to describe it as having 100 walls around my mind. When someone starts getting close to me, I don’t just throw the gates open. No, I break down those walls gradually, one by one, as trust is built. Every level someone gets through is earned. I let people in at my own pace, and it’s not something that happens quickly or without reason. This process allows me to assess, to understand who I’m dealing with, and whether they’re worth that deeper access.

Here’s the thing—my heart is guarded by my mind. If you want to reach my heart, you’ve got to get past my mind first. And if I don’t trust you completely, you’ll never get close enough to see my heart, to know the love I have to offer. I’m compassionate, yes, but love is not something I give freely to everyone. I’m like a mirror to society in that way. If you come at me with good intentions and respect, I will treat you the same. But the moment you try to manipulate or disrespect me, I’m not afraid to show you the door and walk away.

I’m selfish in this, and I admit it unapologetically. I preserve my heart for those who’ve earned my trust. I don’t waste my energy on people who haven’t. I’m very aware of who deserves a part of me and who doesn’t. And once you’ve crossed a line, it’s difficult to find your way back into my good graces. Trust, for me, is sacred. And so, while I may be open to letting love flow freely once someone has proven themselves, I don’t leave my heart unguarded (as opposed to what i said earlier). I protect it, and I make no apologies for doing so. It’s not about being cold or distant—it’s about being selective. About preserving what matters most to me, for the ones who truly deserve it.

Is this a foolproof method? No, of course it’s not. No method is ever completely foolproof when it comes to human relationships. People are unpredictable, and even after gaining my trust, there have been times when individuals have done things that were simply wrong, things I couldn’t tolerate. That’s where my second rule comes into play.

[Part 2.2:] This second rule is simple: I don’t give anyone more than two chances. You break my trust once, fine. You’re human, and I get that people make mistakes. But if you break my trust twice, that’s where it ends. It’s not about holding a grudge; it’s about protecting my peace. I fiercely block out people from my life who’ve hurt me twice, and I’m proud of how firm I am in this. What I love about myself is that when I cut someone off, it doesn’t involve dramatic gestures like blocking their number or removing them from social media. No, I just stop caring. I freeze communication entirely, and no matter how much they bicker or try to find their way back into my life, that door remains closed.

But here’s the thing—cutting someone off doesn’t mean I erase the memories we shared. I don’t kid myself into thinking that every moment spent with them was awful or wrong. No, I acknowledge the good times, the times when trust still existed. I respect those memories for what they were at the time. However, that doesn’t mean I let them back in. Once the trust is broken beyond repair, the dynamic between us changes permanently.

Maybe, in the future, they could remain in my life as acquaintances, someone on the periphery, but never close again. That door, the one that led to true friendship or intimacy, is closed for good. Trust is the foundation of every meaningful relationship for me, and once that’s been shattered twice, there’s no rebuilding it. People may come and go, but the lessons they leave behind stay with me, and I use those lessons to make better choices about who I let in going forward.

Conclusion: Well, that's it. What more were you expecting? Me dancing? Okay. I'll share a video.