Your head is the last to know.

When you're sitting in the back of an old blue van, looking up at the stars. When your heart starts to beat faster and your body is completely still. In that moment you sense that life is meant to be big and it is meant to be connected.

Your head is the last to know.

When you're praying in a Buddhist temple and suddenly the world falls away. As you get up your body is shaking and deep down you know you are about to move across the world.

Your head is the last to know.

When tears start falling as you listen to a podcast. When you aren't even sure what it is that hit your heart. You have to rewind to find out that they're talking about a place for people who seek like you do.

Your head is the last to know.

When you're on hands and knees cleaning the tomb of a saint. Tears streaming down your face and laughter on your lips. Your heart beats slow and sure, and you know that you are called to clean your own sacred spaces.

Your head is the last to know.

When you're falling for her. When your heart starts racing every time she walks into the room. Your body keeps moving in closer, looking for any excuse to be near her and hear her stories.

Your head is the last to know.

In the moments when your incongruent pieces are sewn together into something bigger. When you become more than the sum of your parts. These moments don't make sense, they never could. This whole experience is far too big for the mind to comprehend.

So eventually you finally begin to let go. You let your heart lead the way and rely on your body to keep you fully present, and accept the fact that the head will always be the last to know when it really matters.