There lived a princess who’s heart was as soft and malleable as candle wax held just long enough in your hand. This princess lived in a great forest, surrounded by woodland creatures, which she called her friends. Each friend was able to leave a small impression on her heart. A paw print here, a soft snuggle mark there, and soon the princess’s heart was a kaleidoscope of happiness.
The princess was very proud of her heart and wore it on her sleeve for anyone to see and read. She came up to the Mama Bear and said, “Mama Bear! Look! Isn’t my heart a thing of beauty?” But the Mama Bear only sniffed. She’d seen prettier hearts and was doubtful the princess was actually worth all the little markings evident in the wax.
“Others may leave a smile on your heart, little princess, but I see you for who you really are. You bask in other’s glory while hiding your own selfish needs from the world.”
Mama Bear’s words stung the princess and as the lumbering mammal turned to leave, her paw carelessly swiped out and cut a neat, sharp line right down the middle of the heart.
Unable to endure the shock and pain, the princess ran into the forest. Her feet trembled against the uneven moss and grass and soon she fell to her knees beside Papa River.
With tears enough to overflow the banks, Papa River soon took notice. The throbbing heart still aching, the princess found the only way she could cool the pain was by putting her softened heart in the cold, fresh, life-giving water of the river.
Papa River was very kind and helped sooth the burning hurt. The gash now making its way through the middle of the heart was smoothed over time, but Papa River knew the princess could not stay at his side forever. She had a whole forest to see. Carefully, he returned the softened heart to the princess. The cool of the river had hardened the heart just enough so that it couldn’t be so easily harmed again. Or so Papa River thought.
Now on her journey of exploration and once more full of optimism, the princess came upon a woodcutter. He was handsome and seemed kind in a broken sort of way, and the princess found herself showing him her heart.
“May I?” The woodcutter asked, holding out his work-hardened hands. The princess nodded and allowed the rough callouses to hold her precious item. It looked good in his hands and for awhile the woodcutter took care not to damage the soft material. Eventually, however, the roughness of his skin would leave trails of use in the waxen surface. Toward the end of their friendship, the woodcutter even forgot to take care of his axe and a long scar took its place beside the one made by the Mama Bear.
Not wanting to, but seeing the foolishness of staying, the princess left the woodcutter in his hut in the wood. She held her heart close in her arms as she wandered very far indeed. Her forest seemed to go on forever, but one day she opened her eyes to see the land had grown foreign. The people were also foreign and the princess greatly missed her woodland creature friends and their loving caresses on her malleable heart.
Thinking she had learned her lesson, our little princess now kept her heart very tightly protected. She shared it with no one in the new land and even built a box of iron to keep out anyone and anything. Some men tried to come and find her heart. One tried to use brute force to open the box, but when it remained firmly shut, he sulked away mumbling something about how women “always do this to him.”
Another man tried an overly gentle manner and whispered soft poetry into the princess’s ears. But our princess was not fooled. The poetry he sang was not of a selfless, beautiful kind, but rather begging for sympathy and stemmed from a place of deep lacking.
The final man was more sly than the others. He didn’t care for the heart; he only cared for what the princess could offer him. With a well-practiced hand, this latest potential picked the lock of the princess’s heart box. When it opened, he gave one look at the precious belonging and tossed it back without a second thought. As it fell, the heart, which had grown hard without sunlight and air, chipped and cracked.
Truly alone, our princess heard the crack as if it were lightening. She was startled. Her heart had never made such a noise before. Since her heart box was already opened, the princess thought she’d take a look at what was inside. What she felt when she reached in was cold. Taking it out, the calcified heart now sat like lead in her hands. Every scar was on full display, hiding the loving marks of previous friends. Instead, the heart was grey and heavy. Like a remnant of a time long ago, the heart was aged and held no hope for the future, only a dull resignation for the present.
The princess looked at her heart for a very long time. When the first tear came, it held a tornado of longing and fear. This might have been the time for another flood of tears, but the princess had locked all her emotions away with her heart and now, even sadness was unable to breach the surface of the pit she had dug. That heart, once so soft and open for the world to see, was a stone. It was ugly. It was harsh. It bore only the memory of pain.
“Is this who I am now?” The princess considered. Her fingers reached out and delicately stroked the image of her previous life. She saw the scar where Mama Bear had cut her. She touched the ache left by the woodcutter. The wrenches of the first man and the cracks from the third man had made their mark and she brushed them lightly with her fingertips. Then our princess did something that surprised even her. Cradling her heart, she held it up to her lips and kissed it. In a moment, a light opened in the room surrounding her and a voice, so full of compassion it ached her soul, spoke. The voice asked for her heart and without hesitation, she relaxed her grip, offering the broken to the asker.
The heart gave a soft pitch and seemed to break it half. Afraid her heart was dying, the princess tried to push the item back together, begging it to be strong just a little longer, but it was no use. Like the shedding of a seed husk, the heart shivered off the toughened layer. A seed indeed, her heart had been waiting for the opportunity to grow. With the water of the kiss and the light that came from the voice, the princess’s heart shed the life of the past. Lines still criss-crossed its surface, but the newly grown treasure now glowed with the feeding and care from the voice.
While this may seem like a lovely place to end our story, there’s still so much the princess has to do. The world is brighter, now, and the princess looks with new eyes on those that surround her. Did she return to her forest? She did, indeed, but with a level of wisdom earned from learning. Does she still make mistakes? Indeed she does, but this princess is no longer destroyed by the attacks. The voice is more than just a voice. It is a true friend that can sooth her more than Papa River. It is a guide that handles her more carefully than the woodcutter, and it is a love that offers her fulfillment that the men could never achieve.
In a new space of mind, the princess journeys through the world. True friends have been given to her by the voice, friends like the dragon that protects her fiercely and warms her with inner fire. They travel together and, even while apart, they are able to talk in a language only they understand. The things they’ve seen could fill volumes.
Does the princess still try to give her heart away? Indeed she does, but only to those that also glow with the light from the voice. She tried to give it to a minstrel, but her melody didn’t harmonize with his. She tried to give it to a knight, but his armor was too tightly drawn and his journey led him to the mountains beyond her forest. These moments are not of weakness, but rather speak of an inner longing. The princess, someday, will find someone to care for her heart and ask her to care for his in return, but until that day comes, there is still so much to see and do. Our princess doesn’t sit still and our princess isn’t afraid to go on any adventure the voice sends her way.
