This post is about dimsum. And more than the little bamboo cases of dumplings and buns, it is about what “dim sum” really means – dim (touch) sum (heart): to touch the heart.
I sat around a round table this afternoon with three friends who have known my pains and my joys, and everything that has made my heart sing and bleed. One of them had made it possible for me to leave a painful place; another gave me new ways of looking, feeling and loving; and the last who has only ever believed in the spark within me, no matter how dark things became.
And so, after a long, slow, fragmented year, we are learning to laugh again, to talk about our shared histories and create new stories. We are daring to open our hearts again and do things to make them sing—to question, daydream, wonder, create, feel, love and love and love again. We are reaching down into the forgotten spaces of our hearts and reigniting the sparks that had brought us altogether in the first place. Remember the good times, put aside the bad—or perhaps just learn from them, from each other, move from the space in my heart to the space in yours as we talk about the things we’ve seen, lived and understood.
You have truths to tell and so do I. So as we pour warm tea into each other’s little mugs, we also pour our hearts into each other’s open hands. We talk about the things that have made us cry, kept us awake, frightened us and made us small. We also talk about the things that are making our hearts soar, lighting up our passions, radiating strength and making us big again.
Dim sum. Touching the heart.
From my heart to yours, and yours to mine, we will live, love, dance, sing and whoop all over again.